The Shadow of Vader
by Darth Vastor
Summary: A ROTS AU. Darth Sidious, desiring to have both Anakin and ObiWan as his servants, sets in motion a plan to bring them both under his sway. Alone, betrayed, and misguided, ObiWan falls. Now Anakin must find a way to save him, before he succumbs himself.
1. The Hero Without Fear

**The Shadow of Vader**

Disclaimer: Star Wars, and all its characters are the sole property of George Lucas.

I have been posting this story on under the same username,and it is much further along there. It has not been altered during the process of posting it here as well.

Title: The Shadow of Vader

Author: Darth Vastor

Timeframe: AU

Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance

Characters: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Palpatine, Padmé, Yoda, Mace, Sabé, etc.

Summary: This story is a an Alternate Universe in which Obi-Wan Kenobi takes a dark path and becomes the Sith Lord and Anakin Skywalker resists the temptation and stays true to the Light Side of the Force. The story will follow the plot of ROTS in the beginning before diverging later into the story.

**Chapter 1**

"Lock onto him, Artoo."

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker's eyes followed the droid starfighter that R2-D2 had designated. He guided his ship up and to the right, firing his lasers as he did so. The shot streaked into space toward the droid, coming from an angle that the droid had no hope on anticipating, let alone avoiding. By the time its sensors alerted it to the threat, it had approximately four-tenths of a second to react. Not even droids are that fast.

Anakin grinned as he flew through the cloud of expanding debris and Artoo chattered in exictment. This was what he was most comfortable doing: flying. Something he had been doing since before he could walk. Encased in his modified starfighter, he was invincible, and he was at peace. _Unlike someone I know_, he smiled.

The voice of said person startled him out of his reverie.

"Look out, four droids inbound!" the voice warned in clipped Coruscanti, a voice that Anakin knew as well as his own: his best friend, and former Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Not a problem, Master," Anakin said, grinning. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Oh no," Obi-Wan shot back. "I recall you saying the same thing on Cato Nemodia before the … incident."

"Master, will you ever let that go?"

"Never. It allows me to reign you in whenever I need it."

Anakin gunned his engine, soaring right into the middle of the droids. "Trust me."

"I do," Obi-Wan said resignedly. "But that doesn't stop me from worrying."

Anakin's maneuver startled the droids so badly that they swiveled their laser cannons and began firing at him blindly. Anakin pulled his starfighter out with a quick turn and thrust of his engines, and the droids cut themselves to pieces with their own fire.

Anakin turned his head toward Obi-Wan's starfighter. "See?"

"Good job," Obi-Wan admitted. "Is Grievous's command ship anywhere near here?"

"It's dead ahead, Master," Anakin checked his display. "The one crawling with Vulture Droids."

Obi-Wan's voice was filled with sarcasm. "I see it. Oh, this is going to be easy!"

He turned his communicator to Red Squadron's frequency. "Odd Ball, do you copy?"

"Copy, Red Leader." Odd Ball, the clone leader of the squadron assigned to assist Obi-Wan and Anakin on their mission, had served with the two Jedi on several missions. Anakin had never understood why the clone had picked Odd Ball as his call signal, as he didn't seem to different from any other clone, other than his formidable piloting skills. Maybe it was because Odd Ball was easier to say than Clone Pilot AD-4587. If they both survived this battle, he would ask him. "Locking S-foils in attack position."

A swarm of droid starfighters and trifighters took off from the command ship and closed in on the small, determined group. The fighters outnumbered the Jedi and their clone allies by at least ten to one. Odds most sane beings in the galaxy would consider impossible. But the word impossible was not a part of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi's vocabulary.

Anakin smiled. "This is where the fun begins."

There weren't many things in the galaxy that could rattle Obi-Wan Kenobi. When he was only 18 years old he had defeated a Sith Lord. He had battled the most deadly man in the galaxy in Jango Fett and emerged unscathed. He had pulled himself out of too many death-defying situations to count. But he still felt uneasy in the cockpit of a starfighter. Having over a hundred droids trying to reduce him to his elemental atoms beyond the reach of his lightsaber wasn't helping either.

_If we survive this, I'm requesting a permanent ground assignment_, he thought to himself as he jinked and juked to avoid the killing beams of red light. A quick reverse thrust and a barrel roll had him behind the offending droids, and with a few laser blasts, three droids disappeared in a flash of light.

_Only about a thousand more to go._

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin's starfighter. His former padawan was having no problem dealing with his attackers, a trail of destroyed droids marked his path. But now four more fighters were closing in on him, in addition to the four already on his tail. Obi-Wan shouted out a warning. "You have four more incoming! Break high and right."

"I'm going low and left," came Anakin's reply.

_Great._ Low and left meant skimming the surface of a gigantic Trade Federation battle cruiser and entering a narrow trench, drawing the fire of its massive turbolaser batteries. _Already a difficult mission, and now my former padawan is exhibiting suicidal tendencies. He still has much to learn._ Obi-Wan followed, taking potshots at Anakin's pursuers.

Amazingly, Anakin got through cleanly, losing all his pursuit in the process. The duo sped away from the cruiser just as it was caught on both sides by fire from Republic gunships and broke apart.

"Don't scare me like that again," Obi-Wan instructed his brash friend.

"Come on Master," Anakin laughed, "You wouldn't want this rescue to be boring, would you?"

"Absolutely not," Obi-Wan returned the laugh, his anger with Anakin having lasted all of two seconds. "But there's plenty more excitement up ahead."

They continued their frantic flight toward Grievous's ship. Weapon bursts increased fivefold, taking out several of the clones covering them. Skilled as they wer, the remaining pilots wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm going back to help them," Anakin declared.

"No," Obi-Wan instructed firmly. "They're doing their job so that we can do ours. Head for the command ship." He felt a wave of pride at Anakin's unwillingness to abandon his comrades, and for a moment a surge of anger as another clone fighter broke apart and its pilot spun off into space. He quickly dispelled the feeling. It was war, and people would die. By completing this mission, they would take another step toward ending the war and bringing a halt to the pointless death.

_There is no emotion, there is peace…_

A Vulture Droid launched its payload of four missiles at the two Jedi. Anakin effortlessly spun his ship into a tight roll, causing the two missiles pursuing him to collide and detonate. Obi-Wan was having trouble shaking his until they collided with what appeared to be debris and blew up. This proved to be a mixed blessing, as the containers burst open to reveal a swarm of buzz droids, which landed on Obi-Wan's ship and began to tear it apart.

"Arfour, be careful!" Obi-Wan instructed his astromech. " You've got one on your…" The little droid's head went flying off into space. "Oh dear."

"Move to the right so that I can get a clear shot at them," Anakin instructed his master. Obi-Wan complied, and Anakin fired a salvo that took off a few droids but also the wing of Obi-Wan's starfighter.

"Stop it! You're not helping!" Obi-Wan's voice carried a hint of annoyance.

"I agree. Bad idea." Anakin swooped in and began to scrape the buzz droids off Obi-Wan's ship using the wing of his fighter. Obi-Wan's ship jolted from the impact. He called out to Anakin.

"Get out of here! There's nothing more you can do."

"I'm not leaving without you, Master," Anakin relied, leaving no room for argument. His best friend, beloved master, and father figure was not going to die at the claws of a few oversized can openers.

Another collision rocked Obi-Wan ship, dislodging all but one of the buzz droids, which scurried onto Anakin's ship and was quickly disposed of by Artoo. "The General's command ship is dead ahead, Master. Head for the hanger," Anakin announced when he assured himself that Obi-Wan was out of danger.

"Well, have you noticed that the shields are still up?" Obi-Wan exclaimed incredulously. So much for assurance.

"Sorry, Master," Anakin took aim at the shield generator and fired. The resulting explosion caused the purple field to wink out of existence, sucking battle droids out into space. Almost immediately, a blast shield began to close over the open hanger. Anakin aimed his ship at the rapidly disappearing gap and gunned his engine for all it was worth. Obi-Wan followed, trying to hold on to his stomach.

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this!"

The two Jedi craft skidded along the floor of the hanger, throwing up a colossal shower of sparks. Obi-Wan wasted no time in ditching his disintegrating vessel, leaping out, igniting his lightsaber, and cutting down two droids all in one smooth motion. Anakin quickly followed. The pair made very short work of all the droids in the hanger.

"Artoo," Obi-Wan instructed, "Locate the Chancellor."

While the little droid made his way over to the computer terminal, Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin and grinned. His former padawan returned the gesture with a cocky smirk of his own. Obi-Wan immediately felt at ease, the trials of their recent flight washed away. No task was too much for the two of them, bonded by brotherly affection, countless hours of training, and perilous missions. Bring on the Confederacy, bring on the Sith, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi would emerge victorious; wearing the same confident smiles as before.

The moment was broken by R2-D2's excited beeping. He had pinpointed the Chancellor's tracking signal. Artoo projected a 3-D image of the The Invisible Hand, with dots representing the Chancellor's location and their current position in the hanger. A solid line marked the best route.

Obi-Wan pointed to Palpatine's dot. "The Chancellor's signal is coming from the observation platform at the top of that spire."

Anakin frowned and stretched out with the Force. He touched the Chancellor's mind and gathered that the estimable leader of the Republic was confused and defiant, but unhurt. He also felt another presence, a dark, roiling power that he knew all too well.

Anakin's frown quickly became a grim look of resolve. "I sense Count Dooku."

Obi-Wan reached out briefly and then pulled back. "I sense a trap."

Anakin shifted his grip on his lightsaber. "Next move?"

Obi-Wan grinned. "Spring the trap."

Obi-Wan and Anakin stepped off of the elevator on the highest level of the Invisible Hand's observation spire. They moved warily, checking around corners and covering each other, alert for a possible ambush. They were taking no chances, having already had to endure a few surprises including an ambush by Greivous's MagnaGuard droids, a swim through the ship's fuel line that had resulted in a huge explosion, and the ups and downs of the ship's turbolifts. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Anakin could not resist making a comment.

"Excellent choice of escape route, Master. If I had known we would have to swim through starship fuel, I would have brought an extra set of robes."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and returned the jibe. "And if I had known that your droid have given us such trouble in the elevators, I would have taken the stairs."

Anakin nodded in agreement. "Touché."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan replied, "Now focus."

They reached the door to the observation platform and opened it easily. Three walls of windows gave a spectacular view of the raging battle outside, but Anakin was focused on the erect figure of the Chancellor, shackled in a throne-like chair. The two Jedi quickly made their way down the stairs and over to him.

Obi-Wan, ever formal, bowed respectfully. "Chancellor."

Anakin spoke in a much more familiar way, concern for his old friend slipping into his tone. "Are you alright?"

Palpatine's face remained motionless, watching the raised entry platform.

"Chancellor?" Anakin inquired.

Chancellor Palpatine turned his face to Anakin, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Count Dooku."

Anakin and Obi-Wan turned to face the door in time to see the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems march through it, flanked by a pair of super battle droids. He flipped effortlessly over the railing and made straight for them. One hand rested lightly on his lightsaber.

Seeing the Sith Lord stride confidently toward them, Anakin felt a burst of hot anger rush through him, a hungry flame from the dragon in his chest that he had enticed into slumber. This man had betrayed the Jedi and the Republic, taken his hand, and plunged the galaxy into a war that had caused the deaths of millions. Anakin flexed his artificial right hand, a reminder of his last encounter with Dooku. He forcibly restrained himself from charging forward and hacking the man's head off; that angry impulse was what had cost him his arm in the first place.

Obi-Wan felt the conflict in his friend. Dooku was powerful; they would need to work together to defeat him. If they allowed themselves to be separated, then the Count would wipe the floor with them like on Geonosis, and the stakes were much higher this time.

"This time, we will do it together," he muttered to his former padawan.

Anakin looked at him knowingly, "I was just about to say that."

Palpatine looked shocked that they were not running for the nearest exits at full speed. "Go and get help. You're no match for him, he's a Sith Lord!"

Obi-Wan turned to him with a smile that was both reassuring and admonishing. "Chancellor Palpatine, Sith Lords are our specialty."

He and Anakin threw off their cloaks as Dooku approached confidently. Dooku extended his hand.

"Your swords, please. We don't want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor."

Obi-Wan stepped forward and ignited his lightsaber. "You won't get away this time, Dooku," he snapped, surprised by the acid in his own voice. Beside him, Anakin ignited his own blue blade.

Dooku lit his own blood-red saber and engaged them.

Anakin and Obi-Wan moved in with a series of quick slashes, testing the Count. Dooku did not attack, but focused on parrying their strikes, quick movements of his saber turning every attack aside.

Obi-Wan continued with his short slashes as Anakin increased the strength of his attacks, sliding from Form III Soresu into his preferred Form V Shien, a much more aggressive style that used powerful strikes to keep an opponent of balance. He had already been close to the master proficiency level of this form when he faced Dooku on Geonosis, and after his defeat, had tripled his work ethic. He was now beyond any definable level of skill; in a way, he had molded the form to suit him.

Dooku stepped up his defense, his effort visibly increasing as he tried to counter Anakin's ferocious attack. Once or twice he tried to slip in a counter attack, but Anakin continued to force him back until he slipped out of range and brought his weapon up to guard position. Obi-Wan and Anakin moved to either side of him, blades ready.

Dooku smiled, "I've been looking forward to this."

Anakin stared at his enemy as though trying to burn a hole in him with his gaze. "My powers have doubled since the last time we met, Count!"

"Good," said Dooku, that infernal smile still on his face. "Twice the pride, double the fall."

He came at the two Jedi with a series of blindingly fast stabs, aiming high. They countered, only to find he had retracted and was now sweeping low. They dodged and came at him again, only to be met with another series of stabs and short cuts that kept them on the defensive.

Dooku was a master of Form II, or Makashi. Though old and much less effective against blaster weapons, it was arguably the deadliest form to use against a Jedi. The short stabs and cuts, combined with a good sense of balance, meant that the user expended very little energy and could be very precise in his attacks. Equally favorable for offense and defense, Dooku could keep the Jedi here all day, wearing them down and drawing on the force to sustain himself.

Of course, that would not win him the duel, so he pushed his advantage trying to drive the Jedi apart. Anakin and Obi-Wan were too clever for such a tactic, and they formed a wall, stopping Dooku short. Obi-Wan led the offensive this time, his lightsaber whirling in an impenetrable shield, driving Dooku back up the stairs.

Obi-Wan had once been a practitioner of the Form IV Ataro, but after the death of his master Qui-Gon Jinn, he had switched to Form III Soresu, the most defensive of all the lightsaber forms. By keeping the lightsaber close to his body, he exposed almost no target area, and expended little energy in turning back all of his opponent's attacks. The wall of defense could infuriate opponents into making a mistake, which Kenobi would take advantage of with remarkable precision.

To gain space, Dooku kicked out and sent Anakin tumbling down the stairs. Obi-Wan lunged forward and renewed his attack with extra vigor. Dooku was surprised by the surge of aggression that he felt in Kenobi's thrusts. It was most unlike him. Could it have something to do with Dooku's attack on his padawan, or was this the old Kenobi surfacing?

Obi-Wan kept coming, literally using his defense as his offense. His lightsaber shielded his body, allowing no attacks through and forcing Dooku to give ground. The Count was only a few meters from the wall now, if he could corner him, then some of Dooku's advantages would be nullified.

Dooku sensed this. He would be finished once he was pinned against the wall, but there was a way to use Obi-Wan's sudden aggression to his advantage. In a swift move, he flipped over Obi-Wan's head and thrust violently, channeling his anger into physical power. Now, Obi-Wan was the one who was pinned. He stopped his aggressive swinging and began to refocus his defense, only to find himself running out of room to maneuver. Dooku moved in for the kill, swinging his lightsaber at Obi-Wan's neck.

A sizzling blue blade intercepted his swing. Dooku turned his head to look into a pair of blue eyes burning with a fire greater than the lightsaber, the owner standing over the smoking remains of Dooku's battle droid escort.

Anakin Skywalker had rejoined the fight.

A series of furious slashes from the younger Jedi forced Dooku to back up and release Obi-Wan, who circled to the Count's other side, trapping him between them.

As Dooku worked to defend himself from both assaults, he felt a brief nudge in the force. It might easily have been mistaken for an adrenaline rush, but Dooku knew. It was the signal.

The signal to kill Kenobi.

For a brief instant, Dooku felt a pang of regret. Not only was the man the padawan of his former padawan, but also he was a worthy fighter and did not deserve to be cut down like an animal. Plus, young Skywalker had given him all he could handle earlier, and goading him into rage now could very well cost Dooku his life. The signal came again, warning Dooku to obey. Very well.

Dooku picked up both Jedi with the Force, then hurled Kenobi against a far railing with enough force to shatter all his bones. Somehow, the Jedi managed to use the force to cushion himself from the worst of the impact, but the force of impact was still great enough to knock him unconscious. Dooku quickly pulled down a support beam on top of him to ensure he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Anakin watched in shock as his friend was brought down by his archenemy. Charging forward, he brought his lightsaber down in a vicious chop at Dooku's neck that was blocked by the red saber. Barely.

Using all his strength, the Count pushed back Anakin's blade and countered. The two fought their way across the floor, trading slashes and parries for a minute, when Dooku sensed something. Skywalker was holding back. He could feel the pulsing power in the younger Jedi, screaming for an outlet. Somehow, the boy was holding it in. Confusion, fear and anger swirled about him like a maelstrom. Against his better instincts, Dooku goaded his opponent.

"I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate, you have anger, … but you don't use them."

Anakin struggled against the spark that the Count's words ignited in him, the dragon threatening to awake. Don't. He's a Sith, he's trying to bait you, so that you make a mistake. There is no emotion …

Obi-Wan's battered, prostrate form rose in his mind. His brother, his master, part of himself injured by the Sith, possibly seriously. There _was_ emotion.

The dragon broke free.

Anakin lunged at the Count, power coursing through his veins, spreading throughout his system. Every attack was deadly, every slash a killing blow. He drove Dooku back as though the Dark Lord of the Sith was a mere padawan, picking up a lightsaber for the first time. Dooku tried to interrupt Anakin's chain of attack with an assault of his own, to no avail. The combatants' dance took them right in front of the Chancellor's chair. Palpatine leaned forward in it, a spark of joy in his eyes.

Anakin made an attack at Dooku's torso. When Dooku moved to counter, he reversed his grip, and in an impossibly fast move, severed both of the Count's hands. Dooku fell to his knees in anguish. His lightsaber fell into Anakin's outstretched hand and joined the blue blade at Dooku's neck.

Anakin stood over the defeated Sith, his face hard. He was victorious. This was the moment he had dreamed of for three years, to have the monster that had taken his arm and started the war at his feet, and at his mercy. With one quick motion, he could avenge the suffering of billions. He would be recognized as the savior of the Republic. He could see Obi-Wan's proud gaze, his wife's beautiful smile, Yoda and Mace Windu's nods of acceptance and admiration. The voice of Palpatine broke through his thoughts.

"Good, Anakin, good." The Chancellor chuckled from his chair. Anakin turned his head to face him. Palpatine's face became hard and set. "Kill him."

Those two word's registered in Anakin's brain clearly. Every nerve in his body was telling him to do exactly that. Dooku did not deserve his mercy, and certainly not his compassion. Not after all he had taken from Anakin. "Kill him now."

Yet … Dooku was defenseless and broken. He was no longer a threat. To strike him down now would not be honorable: it would be murder. This thought should not bother him, he had killed thousands during the three year war. But they had all been able to fight back, they all had a chance. Even the Tuskens he had slaughtered to punish them for his mother's death. He closed his eyes, remembering their eerie howls, the surging power, Padmé's shocked face … Padmé.

His angel would not want him to strike down an unarmed man. Even after all the Count had taken from her, she would get on her knees before the Chancellor and beg him for clemency. It was one of the countless things he loved about her. She was capable of infinite mercy and compassion, and he was about to ignore those ideals and his … for what? Revenge?

Dooku was staring at the Chancellor in shock. "You promised me amnesty!"

"I did," Palpatine replied coldly, "But my conditions did not include taking me prisoner or trying to harm my friends." He turned to Anakin. "Do it."

The kind and compassionate ruler of the Republic was ordering him to become a murderer. Anakin could not believe what Palpatine was saying. What had happened to his friend? Maybe he had never understood him at all …

Obi-Wan's words flashed into his mind. The Jedi do not kill their prisoners. No one deserves execution, no matter what their crimes. We do not have the power to judge, only the Force can do that …

With a titanic effort of will, Anakin shut down his lightsabers and turned to face the Chancellor.

"No."

Shock was written all over Palpatine's face. "What?"

"You heard me," Anakin replied calmly. "I will not kill this man."

"Anakin," the Chancellor's voice was cajoling, "You _must_. Think of all this man has done. He took your arm; he made war on the Republic. He's a traitor! He cannot be allowed to live!"

Anakin shook his head. "We will take him prisoner and bring him before the courts for judgment. I cannot forget what he has done, and I am not sure I can forgive him." He took a deep breath and let it out. "But I will not be his executioner."

Dooku stared up in awe at his conqueror. He had never put much faith into the prophecy of The Chosen One, but looking at Skywalker now, it was impossible not to believe. Dooku had lost the fight before it had even began, yet Skywalker was showing him mercy. He was defying the will of a politician to do what was right. These were the ideals that he had looked for in a Jedi, and left the order because he had believed them dead. He had been wrong.

_He will do it, he will destroy the Sith, destroy us_, Dooku thought. It was too late for him; the Dark Side already had sway over his soul, and Skywalker was still his enemy. But there was hope for the Jedi, and for the Republic.

Rage welled up in him as he looked at Palpatine, the man with no honor who would sacrifice his servants for a ploy to gain power. He had betrayed Dooku, he had betrayed his ideals, and he would die for it.

Summoning all his anger, Dooku channeled it into power. Lightning blasted from beyond the stumps of his hands, striking the Chancellor.

Anakin watched as Dooku, who he had thought to be defenseless, suddenly attacked the Chancellor. He was a threat now, the helplessness that he had displayed had been an act. Anakin ignited his lightsaber and with a quick swing, severed the Count's head. The lightning ceased as Dooku's body fell to the deck.

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and turned toward Palpatine who, surprisingly, appeared to be unhurt, though shaken. Anakin quickly released his energy binders.

"Are you alright, Chancellor?" he asked.

"Yes," Palpatine replied, standing up unsteadily. "Are you?"

"Yes, I'm unhurt." Anakin indicated the exit. "We should go."

"Wait," Palpatine instructed, "Anakin, why didn't you kill Dooku when I ordered you to?"

"He was an unarmed prisoner," Anakin replied. "I couldn't cut him down in cold blood. It's not the Jedi way."

"The Jedi way is not always the best way, Anakin. In the end, you had to kill him anyway. You should have acted." Palpatine was studying Anakin, watching his face as if searching for the answer there.

Anakin said nothing.

"Well, I suppose what's done is done," Palpatine sighed, "Now, we must leave before more security droids arrive."

He walked briskly toward the exit. Anakin rushed over to Obi-Wan's body, lying still beneath the beam. He reached into the Force and found his former master's signature. He was still alive.

Palpatine looked over at him, a strange expression on his face. "Anakin, there's no time."

Anakin ignored the Chancellor, quickly assessing Obi-Wan's condition. "He seems to be all right. No broken bones, breathing's all right."

"Leave him, or we'll never make it."

Anakin looked at Palpatine. First, he had told him to murder an unarmed captive, now he was telling him to leave his best friend behind on a dying ship. Dooku must have done something to him. He shouldn't be acting like this. Slinging Obi-Wan over his shoulder, he addressed the Chancellor in a tone that left no room for argument. "His fate will be the same as ours."


	2. The Negotiator

Disclaimer: _Star Wars_ and all its characters are the sole property of George Lucas.

Thank you for reviewing, **Ija Ijevna**! Chapters will get progressively longer.**

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**Chapter 3**

A huge explosion rocked the _Invisible Hand_ as it took another blast from the many Republic crusiers coordinating their fire. Part of the starboard deck broke away from the ship, the void it left sucking droids and Nemodians out into space.

In the hallway leading to the turbolifts, the lights flickered, and then came back on. Anakin tried the button again and got no response. He turned to Palpatine. "Elevator's not working."

Another explosion ripped through the ship. It sounded worse than the first one. Anakin grabbed the comlick, "Artoo, activate Elevator 3224."

An affirmative beep came over the channel. Anakin turned to the Chancellor and gave him a reassuring smile. Then the ship tilted.

Anything that was not anchored down collided full-force with the wall. Anakin used the Force to keep his balance, then pulled Obi-Wan and the Chancellor into the elevator shaft, which had become a hallway with the ship's new orientation.

Anakin found a control box next to a door and began to pull wires out, trying to hotwire the door open. He gave a shout of triumph when he succeeded. But just before he could pull himself and his friends through the open door, the ship tilted again.

Anakin grabbed the loose wires and hung on for dear life as the shaft returned to nearly vertical. He was now dangling in a bottomless shaft with his unconscious friend over his back and the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic hanging onto his boots. _Obi-Wan_, he thought as he tried to secure a better grip with his mechanical hand, _now would be a really good time for you wake up._

Obi-Wan must have heard him because he gave a shout of surprise and scrambled for a better grip on Anakin's back. "Easy," Anakin told him, "We're in a bit of a situation here."

"Did I miss something?" Obi-Wan looked down and saw Palpatine's precarious position. "Hello, Chancellor. Are you well?"

Palpatine mouthed an affirmative. Apparently, he was a little tongue-tied at the moment.

Obi-Wan looked up and immediately wished that he hadn't. The elevator was rocketing down at them. Anakin called frantically into the comlick, "Artoo, Artoo, shut down the elevator!"

"Too late!" Obi-Wan told him. "Jump!"

They plummeted into the shaft. The ship was tilting again, so their fall became an impossibly fast slide. The two Jedi grabbed grappling hooks from their belts and threw them at an open doorway. The hooks caught, and the duo swung out into the hallway, dragging the Chancellor behind them.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. The younger Jedi grinned. "Well, that was close."

The two friends laughed. Palpatine, leaning against the wall, did not partake. He didn't appear to be enjoying himself nearly as much as the Jedi.

Obi-Wan's mind quickly returned to the present. "Let's see if we can find something in the hanger bay that's still flyable."

Anakin nodded his agreement and spoke into the comlick. "Artoo, get down here." A faint beeping came over the channel.

The two Jedi set off down the hallway at a brisk pace, Palpatine trying to keep up behind them.

There was nothing in the hanger bay that was remotely flyable. Indeed, there was nothing in the hanger bay but a huge pile of droid parts and the wreckage of what had once been Obi-Wan and Anakin's starfighters.

Not letting his disappointment show, Obi-Wan turned back the way they had come. "Let's head to the bridge and see if we can find an escape pod."

The trio began to make their way toward the front of the ship, taking the most direct route they could find. This lead them into several droid patrols, but the stealth part of the mission had been blown after Dooku's death, and the droids put up about as much resistance to the Team as a fence of toothpicks.

Just when they were only a few corridors away, walls of purple energy sprang up on all sides, enclosing the would-be escapees in a box in the middle of the hallway.

"Ray shields!" Anakin exclaimed.

Obi-Wan groaned. "Wait a second. How did this happen? We're smarter than this!"

"Apparently not." Anakin let out a frustrated sigh. "This is the oldest trap in the book. I was … distracted."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "So it's my fault?"

Anakin gave him an innocent look. "You're the Jedi. I'm just a hero."

"Too true," Obi-Wan looked around, "I'm open to suggestions here."

Palpatine spoke up for the first time since leaving the elevator. "Why don't we let them take us to General Grievous? Perhaps with Count Dooku's demise, we can negotiate our release."

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged doubtful looks. Considering the hatred that Grievous had for all Jedi, it was highly unlikely that he would let two of the most famous Jedi in the galaxy off his ship unscathed.

Anakin let out a deep breath. "I say, patience."

"Patience?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised. Anakin was one of the most impatient people that he knew, he got bored waiting for elevators.

Anakin looked at him, equally surprised. "Yes. Artoo, will be along in a few minutes, and he'll release the ray shields."

At that moment a nearby door opened and R2-D2 came whizzing out to crash into the far wall. He whirled his dome for a moment, salvaging what remained of his droid dignity, then moved to the nearest control port.

Anakin gave Obi-Wan a look that said _I told you so_. "See?"

The look disappeared when sixteen super battle droids and two destroyer droids emerged from other doorways and surrounded Artoo. The little droid managed to zap one of the battle droids before he was kicked over on his side.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. "Do you have a plan B?"

* * *

General Grievous, commander of the droid armies of the Confederacy, stared out of the viewport, watching the battle. What had once been so promising was quickly becoming an unqualified disaster. The flaming hulks of a dozen Separatist cruisers littered the space around Coruscant, and dozens more were about to join them, including Grievous's own ship. The Nemoidians who sat at the various command consoles appeared to be aware of this fact, because they were beginning to jibber about abandoning ship and cutting their losses. Only fear of their leader was keeping them at their stations. 

Grievous sighed inwardly. Disgusting creatures, Nemoidians. Considering their collective lack of spine, it was a wonder that they didn't spend all their time curled on the floor like oversized grubs. He would dearly love to crush all of their skulls right now. It would be easy; his powerful mechanical digits could puncture durasteel, they could easily pulverize a thin Nemoidian skull.

It was the Nemodians' fault that he had these limbs in the first place. The Trade Federation and the Techno Union had recovered him after the shuttle crash that left him, a once-proud Kaleesh warrior, unable to move, breathe, talk, or sustain himself in any way. They had encased what remained of him in this mechanical prison and condemned him to a life of mindless servitude. But they had not counted on his resolve, and he had quickly turned the tables on them. Now they were his pawns; they would do his bidding and die on his command. He use them and their droids as an expendable army to wage his personal war against those he perceived to be responsible for his fall, the Jedi.

Grievous turned to face the door. Speaking of which …

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi were lead onto the bridge, along with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and a short blue and white astromech droid. They stared fearlessly at the General, apparently convinced that the Scourge of the Jedi was nothing they couldn't handle. Grievous spoke.

"Ah, The Negotiator. General Kenobi. That wasn't much of a rescue."

Obi-Wan smiled. "That depends on you point of view."

Grievous turned to the younger Jedi, ignoring Obi-Wan's philosophical jibe. "And Anakin Skywalker, The Hero Without Fear. I was expecting someone with your reputation to be a little …" he paused, a mocking edge in his voice, "_older_."

Anakin looked at the General, completely un-intimidated. "General Grievous. You're shorter than I expected."

Grievous, who stood over two meters tall, glared at Anakin and turned away. "Jedi Scum!"

Obi-Wan sighed, amused by exasperated. "We have a job to do, Anakin. Try not to upset him."

This statement was slightly hypocritical because Obi-Wan wanted nothing more at that particular moment than to have his hands free so that he could punch the blustering cybrog in the mouth to shut him up. Never mind the fact that Grievous didn't _have_ a mouth …

Grievous placed the Jedi's weapons in his cloak. "Your lightsabers will make a fine addition to my collection."

Obi-Wan stared hard at the droid general, deadly seriousness hanging on each word. "Not this time. And this time, you won't escape."

"Now Artoo!" Anakin ordered.

The little droid extended all his weaponry and fired in every direction, cutting down the droids that stood guard behind Obi-Wan and Anakin. Obi-Wan used the distraction to pull his and Anakin's lightsabers to him using the Force. He cut the bonds that held his wrists, then did the same for Anakin, tossing him his lightsaber as he did so.

"Crush them! Make them suffer!" Grievous howled.

Two of the General's personal bodyguard droids rushed forward. Each of them carried an electrified staff about a meter and a half long. A lightsaber blade could not cut the staff.

Obi-Wan dueled one of the droids as Grievous retreated, ordering his subordinates to stay at their stations. With an impossibly fast move, Obi-Wan cut off the bodyguard's head and turned to face the next threat.

The whirring continued behind him, and Obi-Wan turned to see the headless droid still on its feet, spinning its staff. He resumed his attack with a maniac fury, and the droid crumpled to the deck in pieces.

Anakin had already dealt with his bodyguard droid, and was now freeing the Chancellor from two battle droids who were trying to drag him down a hallway. Obi-Wan began too cut down the droids and Nemodians who came at him with ruthless precision.

Anakin joined him and the last of Grievous's subordinates fell to the deck. The two Jedi began to back the droid general into a corner. Obi-Wan stood on one side his eyes alight with the fire of battle. Anakin stood opposite, power crackling around him. There was no escape for Grievous, unless …

Grievous picked up an electrified staff and threw it at the window. "You lose, General Kenobi!" he cackled. Then the window shattered.

Anything that was not nailed down was sucked out into space. This included the remains of the droids, the Nemoidians, and Grievous himself. The General launched a cable at the ship and began to claw his way toward an open hatch.

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Palpatine grabbed onto the nearest console and held on for dear life while R2 clamped himself to the deck. The ships internal safety measures kicked in, and a blast shield closed over the viewport. The howling wind stopped.

They scarcely had time to feel relieved, however. Alarms began to wail. The Invisible Hand, which had been under constant fire for hours, had finally had enough. The hull had buckled, and the massive craft began to plunge down toward Coruscant.

Anakin checked the display. "All escape pods have been jettisoned."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Grievous. Can you fly a ship like this?"

"You mean, do I know how to land what's left of this thing?"

"Well?"

Anakin sat down at the pilot's station and began throwing switches. "Well, under the circumstances, I'd say the ability to pilot this thing is irrelevant. Strap yourselves in."

All flaps and drag-fins were extended. Obi-Wan gave temperature readings as the ship entered the atmosphere. The entire rear section of the ship collapsed and broke away under the stress.

Obi-Wan made quick calculations. At the speed they were traveling, they could smash a crater in Coruscant's surface kilometers wide, resulting in thousands of deaths. They had to level out. However, by doing that, they risked burning themselves up.

He looked at Anakin, who was calm and completely in control. He knew the dangers and he knew what to do. He would do everything in his power to make sure that both the city and the ship survived the landing. No one else was going to die today.

Anakin pulled the burning ship out of its steep dive. Fireships appeared on all sides, dousing the flames with foam. The landing area was visible now, but they were coming in too fast. Anakin compensated, doing everything he could to slow the craft down before it crashed.

He turned to Obi-Wan. "Hold on."

The ship hit the landing strip and its descent became a mind-numbingly fast skid. Huge amounts of sparks were thrown up as the friction of the landing strip continued to slow the craft down. An observation tower collapsed as it passed.

Finally, the combined efforts of Anakin and the landing strip succeeded, and the remains of had once been the _Invisible Hand_ came to a grinding stop.

All of the members of the rescue mission let out a collective sigh of relief. Obi-Wan collapsed into his chair and smiled. "Another happy landing."

* * *

This post follows the movie almost exactly, but I thought it was too important to cut. The next chapter has new developments. 


	3. The Heroes Return

Disclaimer: _Star Wars_ and all its characters are the sole property of George Lucas.**

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**Chapter 4**

Jedi Master Mace Windu stood on the landing platform of the Senate Office Building, watching the Coruscant skyline. Mace was almost two meters tall, but at the moment his shoulders were slumped and his head was bowed. Across his field of vision, a dozen fires burned, and he knew that there were hundreds more scattered across the planet. The fires were a result of the orbital bombardment that Coruscant had endured for three days, and the smoking craters that he could see were places where ships in their death throes had hit the surface after being destroyed or disabled in orbit. The Coruscant Disaster Department was already overtaxed beyond their limit, and all across the planet, suffering went unnoticed. Just below where they now stood, a small child was trying to dig his parents from under a colossal heap of rubble. His cries went unnoticed by the privileged senators, who stood in their ornamental robes, discussing the impact the attack would have on their various businesses. Mace did not listen to the fool next to him who was ranting about how three of his cruisers carrying priceless ornamental rugs had been vaporized by wayward fire. He was silent, absorbing the waves of suffering that lapped over him through the Force. The horrors of war.

Coruscant was the cradle of death.

A distant speck became a clear shape, wending its way through the frenzy of emergency vehicles toward them. The Chancellor's shuttle. The group of people he was with was moving to welcome it. He needed to go with them. His presence was required.

_My presence is required out there_, he thought. _I should be down there, with those people, helping to ease their suffering._

But it would be an unforgivable breach of protocol if a member of the Jedi Council was not there to greet the Chancellor after his rescue, and support for the Jedi was already shaky. If they were to win this war and end the suffering, the Senate had to tolerate the Jedi.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Mace Windu turned away from the fires and headed down to meet the shuttle.

* * *

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine disembarked from the shuttle to the applause of the gathered crowd. Smiling his gracious thanks and waving the Senators into silence, he walked briskly toward them. Anakin left the shuttle, but then he noticed that Obi-Wan wasn't following. He turned to face him. "Are you coming, Master?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "Oh no, I'm not brave enough for politics. I have to report to the Council. Besides, someone has to be the poster boy."

Anakin winced. "You mean, Poster _Man_. And this whole operation was your idea. You planned it. You led it. You should take the bows."

Obi-Wan shook his head, the smile still on his face. "Let us not forget, Anakin, that you rescued me from the Buzz Droids. And you killed Count Dooku. You rescued the Chancellor carrying me unconscious on your back, and you managed to land that bucket safely."

"All because of your training, Master. You deserve all those speeches about your greatness."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Anakin, let's be fair. Today, you are the hero and you deserve your glorious day with the politicians."

"You couldn't have picked a worse reward, Master." Anakin said resignedly. "All right. But you owe me. And not just for saving you skin for the tenth time."

"_Ninth_ time," Obi-Wan admonished. "As I've told you countless times, that business on Cato Nemoidia doesn't count. I'll see you at the briefing."

The shuttle containing Obi-Wan lifted off and soared off in the direction of the Jedi temple. Anakin jogged to join up with the group of senators. Mace Windu approached Palpatine.

"Chancellor," he inquired, "Are you all right?"

Palpatine gave him what was meant to be a reassuring smile, but came out more like a grimace. "Yes, thanks to your two Jedi Knights. They killed Count Dooku. But General Grievous has escaped once again."

Mace nodded his head at the anticipated news. "General Grievous will run and hide as he always does. He is a coward."

"That may be true, but with Dooku dead he is the leader of the droid armies," Palpatine informed him. "And I can assure you that the Senate will vote to continue the war as long as Grievous is alive."

Mace's look became one of deadly resolve. "Then the Jedi Council will make finding Grievous our highest priority."

As the senators started to move down the hallway, Anakin caught up to C-3PO and whispered something to him. The droid's answer brought a huge smile to Anakin's face, which remained there as Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan fell into step with him.

Anakin didn't care much for politicians in general, but he had taken a real liking to Senator Organa, who had been introduced to him by Obi-Wan two years ago. Organa was one of only three politicians Anakin knew who was completely uncorrupt, and he was a feverish believer in limited executive power. With Anakin's support of Palpatine, the two were often at odds, but there was no bad blood between them.

"Anakin," Organa smiled warmly, "I see you made it back intact."

"More or less," Anakin laughed, shaking Organa's extended hand. "How is your wife?"

A cloud of sadness passed over Organa's face. "She is doing poorly. The war is taking a toll on her."

"As it is on all of us," Anakin nodded sympathetically.

"But the news of today will cheer her up," Organa said. "You have taken a great step toward helping us end the war, Anakin. The Republic cannot praise you enough."

"Thank you. But Obi-Wan made it possible. Not that he wants any credit"

"I know politics aren't his favorite thing. But as I was saying, with Dooku dead the Confederacy will surely sue for peace."

Anakin shook his head. "I wish that were so. But the fighting will continue until General Grievous is spare parts. The Chancellor was very clear on that."

There was a flicker in the Force and Anakin looked up. There was a figure standing in the shadows of a pillar. At the sight of the figure, Anakin's mouth became dry and his heart raced. After six months …

He turned to Senator Organa, barely managing to scrape out the words. "Excuse me."

The Senator smiled graciously. "Certainly."

Anakin began to run toward the pillar at a speed that would have shamed a sprinter. The figure ran toward him at an equal speed. They collided with the force of two worlds separated for an eternity, lips and hearts meeting as Anakin pulled his wife, Padmé Amidala, into an embrace. All of the memories of blood and death vanished, and the only things in the galaxy were the two agonized lovers who had become one again.

Padmé finally broke the kiss, running her hands across Anakin's face to reassure herself that he was real. Tears of happiness and relief were streaming down her face and from the wetness on his cheek, Anakin knew that he was crying as well.

"Oh, Anakin," Padmé sighed, pulling him back into her arms.

"I've missed you, Padmé," Anakin spoke against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of his wife. It burned into his find afresh.

"There were whispers that you'd been killed," she said shakily. "I've been living with unbearable dread."

"I'm all right," Anakin told her softly, losing himself in her beautiful brown eyes. "It feels like we've been apart for a life time. And we might have been … if the Chancellor hadn't been kidnapped, I don't think that they ever would have brought us back from the Outer Rim sieges …"

He leaned down to kiss her again. She pulled back. "Wait, not here."

"Yes, here!" Anakin exclaimed impatiently. "I'm tired of all this deception. I don't care if they know that we're married."

"Anakin, don't say things like that!"

Anakin look deep into Padmé's eyes. "I've given my life to the Jedi Order, but I'd only give up my life for you."

A smile broke across Padmé's face. "I wouldn't like that. I wouldn't like that one little bit. Patience, my handsome Jedi, come to me later …"

Anakin returned the smile and pulled her into his embrace, which she willingly melted into. After a moment he stepped back, looking at her. "Are you all right? You're trembling. What's going on?"

She looked at him with a mixture of joy and apprehension. "Something wonderful has happened." She paused to collect herself. "Ani, I'm pregnant."

Anakin felt as though he had been hit with a turbolaser. His mind staggered through the ramifications of the three words Padmé had just spoken. How could this have happened? They had been so careful! They were in the middle of a war, what kind of environment was that for a baby? If the Jedi found out, he'd be expelled, and the child would be taken away … No! No one was going to take his child from him …

His child …

A new emotion made its way into Anakin's mind: one so strong it washed all the worries away. Joy. His child. His and Padmé's child. He, Anakin Skywalker, was going to be a father.

He finally found his voice. "That's … that's wonderful."

Worry was written all over Padmé's face. "Anakin, what are we going to do?"

He smiled at her, the new emotion that he was feeling appearing on the surface. "We're not going to worry about anything right now. All right? This is a happy moment. The happiest moment of my life."

Padmé's face shone with gratitude and she melted back into his arms, the wonderful happiness that they were feeling forming a bubble around them, shielding them from the conflict around them. For Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, all was right with the galaxy.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat alone in a meditation chamber in a spire of the Jedi Temple, gazing out at Coruscant's setting sun. His face was still and his body relaxed. To any observer, he was the perfect image of peaceful serenity.

Any observer would be wrong.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was anything but calm at this moment. If his thoughts were reflected on the surface, he would appear to be a hurricane, violent winds of thought threatening to rip the bystander away from the floor and hurl him from the window of the spire to fall to Coruscant's surface a hundred stories below.

Obi-Wan Kenobi _seethed_.

The report to the Council had not gone well. Ten Jedi Masters had been presiding, excepting only himself and Master Windu, who had gone to greet the Chancellor at the landing pad. Ki-Adi Mundi and Plo Koon, currently engaged in campaigns in the Outer Rim, had appeared as holograms.

For over two hours they had grilled him on the most minute details of his mission to rescue Palpatine, stopping him often the middle to pursue a completely different tactic. What had he sensed in the Force when he battled Dooku? What about Anakin? Did he purge himself of all emotion and let the Force guide him, so that he could be sure that he had done its will?

Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi, had been ready to throw his Council chair at them.

The Council seemed far more concerned with how things had been done than with what had been done. They were particularly interested in Dooku's demise, and what Anakin had done. Obi-Wan had been unconscious for this, but Anakin had told him everything in the shuttle, so he had a good picture of it. The fact that Anakin had not cut Dooku down in cold blood was overlooked for the fact that he had been entertaining the notion of doing so. _This is a disturbing development_, Plo Koon had said. They also spent considerable time on Palpatine's words. _If he believes that he can influence Anakin to do such a thing, then they are too close_, had been Agen Kolar's opinion. Uncharacteristically, Master Yoda had been the only one to remain silent, seeming to despair of the bickering that the so-called best and brightest of the Jedi Order had dissolved into.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let it out. He had never put much stock in Anakin's complaints about the Council, but now they were becoming crystal clear. The Chosen One had been critiqued relentlessly, and he wasn't even there! Obi-Wan's tongue had a mark on it from all times he had bit on it to stop himself from lashing out at Anakin's detractors. They didn't even know him. To them, he was a possession; their sword to wield against the Sith. To Obi-Wan, he was a friend and a brother, the closest thing to family that he had. For thirteen years he had known Anakin, and he had more respect for him than Jedi Masters that he had known his entire life.

His faith in the Council had weakened, he realized, because it had been replaced by his faith in Anakin.

He no longer believed that the Jedi Council was infallible. Members had died, and had been replaced, but nothing new was ever brought to the table. The Masters on the Council were of the same mindset as those before them. They would not adapt to the galaxy around them, they sat in their chamber and expected the galaxy to mold to their purposes.

_And that_, Obi-Wan thought bitterly, _is why the Sith prosper while we fall apart._

It was time to stop this train of thought. Discontent was one thing, sympathy with the enemy was something else entirely. He would give his life for the Jedi, for his friends, if not for its ruling body of which he happened to be a part. He would persevere, for Bant, for Aalya, for Siri, for Mace, for Yoda, and for Anakin.

Obi-Wan turned away from the window and left the chamber. Outside, orange clouds collected and gathered together in a distant roll of thunder. A storm was brewing.


	4. A Vision of Suffering

Thank you so much every one who reviewed! I'll respond individually when I have the time.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or any of these characters. That goes to GL.

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**Chapter 4**

Far out in the Outer Rim, a small planet hung in space. The planet had many moons, and its surface was dry and arid. The visible landmasses were pockmarked with enormous sinkholes, the largest of which were kilometers across. A basic sensor sweep revealed nothing but a few large predators and an advanced one could pick up only faint traces of technology. Certainly no natural resources of hidden military bases of any kind. There appeared to be absolutely no reason why anyone would want to occupy it.

Yet the small system of Utapau had become one of the most important systems in the Confederacy.

Thousands of kilometers out, a small Nemoidian shuttle reverted from hyperspace and made for the planet's surface. It angled toward one of the largest sinkholes. As the ship descended into the enormous pit, a city became visible. Dwellings were built into the walls and connected by an intricate system of bridges and platforms. Enormous flying lizards carried their passangers fro one part of the city to another.

The shuttle landed on a large platform on the tenth level of the city, where a large delegation waited. Members of it included Viceroy Nute Gunray of the Trade Federation; Shu Mai, head of the Commerce Guild; Wat Tambor of the Techno Union; Geonosian Poggle the Lesser; and Separatist Senators Po Ando, Toonebuck Toora, and Tikkes.

The shuttle landed, and General Grievous disembarked. Viceroy Gunray stepped forward. "General Grievous. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Grievous snarled inwardly. He was supposed to contact Lord Sidious immediately upon arrival. He didn't have time to waste talking to this fool.

"I am in a hurry, Viceroy. We will talk later."

"Ah," Gunray smiled unpleasantly. "Yes, we will talk about your failure at Coruscant. You told us that you were going to bring the Supreme Chancellor back here in chains."

"I did," Grievous said menacingly, "But the circumstances were not favorable. Perhaps you would care to take his place?"

A look of fear appeared on Gunray's face. "Forgive me."

Grievous threw out an arm, knocking Gunray out of his way and stepping over him. "Apology accepted, Viceroy." Grievous stormed into a secure chamber, Gunray glaring daggers at his back.

Grievous made his way over to the control console, the door sliding shut behind him. He twisted the frequency dial then pressed the button. Darth Sidious appeared, wearing his customary black cloak that shrouded his features. Grievous stooped in a bow. "Yes, Lord Sidious?"

"General Grievous," Sidious said without preamble. "I suggest you move the Separatist leaders to Mustafar."

Grievous nodded. Mustafar. A security hideout had been constructed on the lava-mining world recently. Lord Sidious had been adamant that the construction be completed as soon as possible. With all the security measures in place around it, plus the facility's remote location, it should be impossible to find … unless someone was tipped off about its existence. "It will be done, my lord."

Sidious's lip curled and his voice lowered in tone. "The end of the war is near, General."

_If by the end of the war you mean our utter annihilation,_ Grievous thought, _then yes._ The Republic's titanic manufacturing base continued to pump out ships and the Kamino facility continued to turn out clones. Almost all of the major Separatist manufacturing plants had been destroyed, and the disastrous assault on Coruscant had cost them many of their remaining vessels and droids. Not to mention that their leader and founder, Lord Sidious's own apprentice, had been beheaded on his own flagship. But something told him that it would be unwise to voice all these concerns to the Dark Lord, so he settled on just the last one. "But the loss of Count Dooku?"

Sidious's voice took on an even more unpleasant tone. "His death was a necessary loss, one that will result in our ultimate victory. However, my efforts to procure his successor have taken a … step back, if you will. I will need to take another approach. I will need your aid in this matter, General."

Grievous was surprised. Lord Sidious had never asked him for help with anything, let alone something as important as securing a new Sith apprentice. "What would you have me do, my Lord?"

Sidious's voice dropped even further. "After you have finished subduing the native population, contact me. Upon receiving your message, I will disclose your location to the Jedi. If my instincts serve me well, I know exactly whom they will send to engage you. Now this is what you must do …"

* * *

Padmé stood on the balcony of her and Anakin's apartment on the top floor of Five Hundred Replica. Of course, Anakin didn't _officially_ live there, but to him, the place was home more than the Jedi Temple would ever be. He stood leaning against the edge of the balcony, lost in the simple action of watching Padmé brush her hair. She was only wearing a simple nightgown, and no makeup, but she outshone the lights of Coruscant behind her and the stars overhead. Anakin had to consciously remember to breathe.

Padmé continued to brush her hair as she spoke softly. "Ani, I want to have our baby back home on Naboo. We could go to the Lake Country where no one will know." She turned to him, smiling. "I could go early and fix up the baby's room."

It was funny, Anakin thought, that he could face a thousand battle droids and Sith Lord and remain in absolute control of himself, yet one look from this woman and he would get weak at the knees and his heart would race. She continued to smile, unaware of the torrent of emotion he was feeling. Her look became wistful. "I know the perfect spot, right by the gardens."

Anakin finally managed to find his voice. "You are so … beautiful," he stammered.

She turned back to him, a radiant smile on her lips. "It's only because I'm so in love."

"No," Anakin continued to stammer, as the happiness he was feeling nearly shut down his brain. "It's because I'm so in love with you!"

She gave him a quizzical look, "So love has blinded you?"

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant."

Padmé gave him another smile, and Anakin's heart melted. "But it's probably true."

They shared a laugh, and Anakin took Padmé in his arms. "I haven't laughed in so long."

Padmé's voice was muffled against his chest. "Neither have I."

He tilted her chin up, so that he could look into her eyes, and indicated the bedroom. "Shall we?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "Sabé and Typho will watch the door."

Hand in hand, they made their way toward their shared bed. Anakin paused for one look back over the Coruscant landscape, and the Jedi Temple in the distance. Then Padmé's lips found his, and all reality slipped away.

* * *

_A world of pain surrounded Anakin. He was in some kind of medical center, indistinct shapes were moving around him. Padmé lay on a table before him, dressed in a white medical smock, her face creased with agony. She's in labor, Anakin thought frantically. He tried to run forward to comfort her, but he was rooted in place. No amount of effort could pull him free. Helplessly, we watched Padmé scream in agony. _

"Anakin, please … help me!"

He tried to call out to her, but his words were lost in the roar of background noise. Another contraction hit, and Padmé's face contorted again. A single tear ran down her cheek and her voice trailed off.

"Anakin, I'm sorry … I can't hold on … I love you!" Her head fell limply to her side.

No! _Anakin stared in numb shock at his wife's body; his mind had deserted him. Then the setting changed. _

Padmé was lying on a hard metal platform. All around them were immense lava flows and volcanoes. In the distance, a massive eruption sounded accompanied by a mocking laugh, and Anakin looked up.

A dark, cloaked figure was standing over Padmé's body. Power and malice swirled around it. The presence had a familiar feel to it, but it was twisted, and Anakin could not perceive it clearly. It laughed again, and ignited a blue lightsaber, swinging it toward Padmé's inert body …

With a scream, Anakin regained consciousness. He looked around frantically, until his eyes settled on Padmé, sleeping peacefully next to him. He let out a sigh of relief. A dream. It was only a dream.

_No, it's not. It's a vision._

The last time he had had a vision like this, his mother had died …

Anakin put his face in his hands and wept. When he had finished, he pulled on a robe and headed out to the balcony. He needed some air.

Padmé awoke to find Anakin was not lying next to her. For a moment she panicked, then she spotted him heading down the hallway. Slipping out of bed, she followed him.

Anakin was standing motionless, staring out at the night. Coruscant had experienced a rainstorm earlier, but it had passed, and the cool wetness hung in the air. Padmé slid up next to Anakin and slowly rubbed him arm. He didn't look at her. "What's troubling you?"

He finally faced her, tears still drying on his face. "Nothing." He fingered the japor snippet that Padmé always wore, and that she valued more than anything, except for Anakin. "I remember when I gave this to you."

Anakin was not a good liar and Padmé, who was one of the most perceptive people in the galaxy, instantly knew he was hiding something. Her voice became serious. "How long is it going to take for us to be honest with each other?"

Anakin gave in. "It was a dream."

Padmé frowned. "Bad?"

"Like the ones I used to have about my mother."

"And?"

Anakin face became agonized. "And it was about you."

"Tell me," Padmé said softly, stoking his back.

Anakin turned away and walked to the edge of the platform. "It was only a dream."

Setting his shoulders, he turned to face her again. "You die in childbirth."

Padmé felt a rush of fear, none of it for herself. She placed her hands protectively on her abdomen. "And the baby?"

Anakin's voice broke; he seemed to be on the verge of collapse. "I don't know."

She tried to comfort him, pulling him into her arms. "It was only a dream."

Anakin looked at her, blue eyes full of resolve. "I won't let this one become real."

Padmé tightened her grip. "This baby will change our lives. I doubt the queen will continue to allow me to serve in the Senate, and if the Jedi find out you're the father you'll be expelled …

"I know, I know," Anakin hushed her.

A spark of an idea entered Padmé's mind. "Do you think maybe Obi-Wan might be able to help us?"

Anakin considered it. There was nothing he wanted to do more right now then run over to the Jedi Temple and tell Obi-Wan everything, but his cautious side reined him in. Obi-Wan was on the Council, he would be obligated to report something this serious, and if the Council learned of his relationship with Padmé, they would take her away from him.

He spoke reassuringly to Padmé. "We don't need his help. Our baby is a blessing."

Padmé didn't seem convinced, but she moved closer to him, and the two of them made their way back to their room.

* * *

Anakin sat opposite Master Yoda in the Jedi Master's quarters. He had told Padmé that they didn't need any help with the baby, but the vision had left him so troubled that he had sought out Yoda for help. He did not reveal that it was Padmé he had seen, or that she had been in labor. Yoda seemed to sense that he was being ambiguous.

Currently Yoda's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be deep in thought. "Premonitions, premonitions. Hmm, these visions you have …"

Anakin spoke in a flat voice, trying not to betray the emotion he was feeling. "They're of pain. Suffering. Death …"

Yoda's eyes opened, and his green eyes seemed to be searching for answers in Anakin's blue ones. "Yourself, you speak of, or someone you know?"

Anakin looked away. "Someone."

"Close to you, hmm?"

Anakin still did not look at him. "Yes."

"Careful you must be when sensing the future, Anakin. The fear of loss is a path to the darkside."

Anakin finally looked at the Jedi Master. "I won't let these visions come true, Master Yoda."

Yoda seemed to take this into consideration. "Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is."

He was trying to save Padmé's life, and Yoda was accusing him of being selfish! Anakin tried to keep his anger in check. He knew that Yoda was only trying to help.

"What about the dark figure?"

"Most disturbing of all, this is." Yoda said gravely. "The Dark Side, I sense. It clouds my vision. You say blue, the figure's lightsaber was. A Jedi's color. Betrayal, this suggests."

That suggestion hit Anakin hard. "Who?"

Yoda shook his head, looking very old. "Say, I cannot."

Anakin stood up shakily. "What must I do, Master Yoda?"

Yoda looked at him gravely. "Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."

Anakin left the chamber with even more questions than when he had entered. Yoda's words had not brought him any comfort.

* * *

Next chapter, a new character will be introduced ... one very important for Obi-Wan. 


	5. The Coming Storm

**Chapter 5**

Obi-Wan strolled through the Jedi Temple, looking for Anakin. He was not having success, and was getting quite frustrated. No one seemed to have seen him all day. They were scheduled to meet with about a dozen other Jedi for a report on the Outer Rim sieges, and Anakin, in typical Anakin fashion, was making things difficult. He seemed to have vanished.

He had checked the sparring room, which was Anakin's favorite place in the temple, but found nothing. Then he had checked the Archives, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the mess hall, and even the meditation chambers, though he hadn't really expected to find Anakin there. He had almost gone to Master Yoda, but had been told that Yoda was in a private conference with a Knight, and Obi-Wan did not want to disturb him.

Normally, he could locate Anakin instantly through their bond, but Anakin was shielding himself. This meant that he had something serious on his mind, or that he didn't want to be found. _Or both_, Obi-Wan thought.

Apparently, Anakin wasn't in the temple. But where would he go? Possibly he had gone to see Chancellor Palpatine, who always kept his door open for Anakin. Obi-Wan had almost decided to pay a visit to the Senate Office Building and follow up on his hunch when an even better idea occurred to him. Waving down an airtaxi, he told the driver to head for Five Hundred Replica.

As the driver weaved through various lanes of traffic, blaring his horn rudely, Obi-Wan wondered why he hadn't thought of this first. Anakin always took every opportunity to visit Senator Amidala when on Coruscant.

Though the two made every effort to hide it, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin and Padmé were in love. Their charade could fool almost anyone, but not him. He knew them both too well. The way they looked at each other when they thought he wasn't looking, the sheer joy he could feel radiating off of both of them whenever they were together. Though the Jedi Code forbade attachment, Obi-Wan could not bring himself to tear them apart. As long as they had enough sense to keep it unconditional …

The taxi arrived at Five Hundred Replica. Obi-Wan paid the driver, then took the elevator up to the top floor. There was no one in the hallway, which was not a good sign. If Padmé were here, Typho or one of his men would be on guard. Still, since he had come all this way, it couldn't hurt to knock. Anakin and Padmé might just have wanted some privacy.

He rapped on the door, and to his surprise, someone answered. She was wearing a handmaiden cloak, but Obi-Wan recognized her instantly. He had known her since the Naboo Blockade crisis.

"Greetings, Master Jedi," the handmaiden said in a soft Naboo accent, so like Padmé's. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Obi-Wan realized that he was still wearing his hood. He quickly removed it and gave the handmaiden a broad smile. "Yes, there is something you can do for me, Sabé. Please call me Obi-Wan, Master Jedi is too formal."

Sabé pulled down her own hood, allowing her long chestnut brown hair to fall loose. Her mouth opened in surprise, then quickly became a huge grin. The next thing Obi-Wan knew, he was crushed in a hug.

"Obi-Wan!" Sabé sounded ridiculously happy to see him. "How are you? It's been three years!"

Obi-Wan thought he heard his ribs crack. "Sabé," he rasped out, "Let me go."

She let go of him, an embarrassed look on her face. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he gasped, rubbing his ribs. "I needed that."

He blinked, not believing what had just come out of his mouth. He shouldn't have said that. It was too suggestive, and could be taken the wrong way by Sabé.

Sabé laughed, a musical sound that filled the room. "Padmé keeps telling me that I need to tone my hugs down. I could hurt somebody."

"Speaking of Padmé," Obi-Wan said, looking around the room, "Is she here?"

Sabé shook her head. "She had some kind of meeting with Senators Organa and Zar. She left about an hour ago."

"What about Anakin?"

A cautious look appeared on Sabé's face. "Why would Anakin be here?"

"Sabé," Obi-Wan said patiently, "I know that Anakin and the Senator are friends, and not just in the casual sense of the word. I know that their relationship runs a lot deeper than everyone else believes that it does. You have nothing to fear from me, I am not going to tell anyone. I simply need to find Anakin because he and I have a briefing in half an hour."

Sabé seemed to accept this, and she shook her head. "Anakin came by here last night, but I haven't seen him since."

_Last night?_ Obi-Wan thought. _Anakin, what have you been doing?_

Sabé smiled at him. "Do you have time for a drink before you go?"

"Yes, I do," Obi-Wan returned the smile. "Nothing too strong though."

Sabé motioned him inside and sat him down on the sofa. She went into the kitchen and began running through the cabinets.

"Do you have any Jawa Juice?" Obi-Wan called to her.

"I'm afraid not," Sabé called back out to him. "Padmé must have finished it off. She loves that stuff."

She returned a moment later with a bottle of Alderaan champagne and two glasses. "This is all I could find."

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. "Champagne? What, are we celebrating something?"

Sabé grinned mischievously. "I don't know. What should we celebrate?"

"Let's drink to a renewed friendship," Obi-Wan raised his glass "Since we haven't seen each other in three years."

Sabé laughed. "If I had known that this was coming, I'd have worn something better than this old cloak!"

"Not necessary," Obi-Wan smiled. "You look beautiful in anything you wear."

_What did you just say, Kenobi?_ He berated himself silently. _You're acting like an idiot. Get a grip on yourself._

Sabé blushed. To cover his embarrassment, Obi-Wan downed his entire glass of champagne. Then, looking anywhere but at the woman on the couch next to him, he asked casually, "So what have you been doing since we last saw each other? That was right after the war started wasn't it?"

Sabé was still blushing, but her voice was steady. "I've been on Naboo, helping organize relief programs. We have an academy that trains students in basic medicine, cooking, and survival. After the students graduate, they are sent off to various worlds in which campaigns are either ongoing or recently concluded, to alleviate the suffering."

Obi-Wan nodded approvingly. "Noble work."

"Oh, it's nothing," Sabé said modestly. "I wish I could do more. I returned to Coruscant a few months ago to visit Padmé and confer with her on various matters. She insisted that I stay as a guest and a friend, but I've been her handmaiden so long that I'm far more comfortable playing that role."

She finished her glass and reached for a refill. "So what about you? What have you been doing? Anakin has told me all about your adventures, but I think he gets a little caught up in the telling and tends to over-exaggerate certain aspects, especially all the times he's had to save you. I'd like to hear your side of the story."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Anakin, over-exaggerate? Surely you jest. Very well."

He gave Sabé a brief summary of all the missions that he had been on since the war had begun, and the campaigns that he had led. All the while, he marveled at how easy it was to talk to her. It was like they had known each other all their lives. She leaned toward him, hanging on his every word. They were so close, he could see every detail of her face; her smooth skin, her deep brown eyes, her warm, pink lips. So close …

_Stop!_

Hastily, he checked the time and realized that the briefing was scheduled to start in ten minutes. He would barely have enough time to get back to the temple, let alone look for Anakin. He stood up.

"I must go. The report is about to start. If Anakin doesn't show up, I'll just have to fill him in later."

Sabé nodded, looking a little disappointed. "All right."

Obi-Wan found himself reluctant to leave. "I hope that we can pick this conversation up at another time. Would that be all right?"

She smiled. "I'd like that."

Obi-Wan bowed and left the apartment, fighting the urge to look back.

* * *

Anakin barreled through the Temple corridors, ignoring the disapproving glares of a group of Masters gathered outside the archives. The younglings, however, waved at him as he passed. He returned the gesture hastily, then continued his breakneck pace. His meeting with Master Yoda had lasted longer than he had expected, and in his worry over the vision, he had completely forgot about the briefing. _Obi-Wan's going to kill me._

He arrived at the situation room just in time to see Jedi filing out, led by Master Windu. The report was over. Cursing silently, he ducked into the room. Maybe he could swipe a few disks and give himself an overview.

Obi-Wan was still inside, switching off the various screens and monitors. He looked up and beckoned Anakin over. Anakin approached reluctantly. No doubt his former master was going to treat him to a lecture on the virtues of punctuality.

"You missed the report on the Outer Rim sieges," Obi-Wan said, stating the obvious.

"I'm sorry, I was held up." Anakin apologized. "I have no excuse."

"Where were you? I was looking for you for an hour."

"I was meeting with Master Yoda …"

"That was you he was in conference with? I was right outside! What were you talking about?"

Anakin looked away. "It's … personal."

"I see," Obi-Wan said suspiciously. "Well, no matter. I had a pleasant talk with Sabé to pass the time."

_Sabé?_ Anakin thought. _I hope she didn't let anything slip. That's the last thing I need right now: a Council inquiry._

"What did I miss?" Anakin asked, trying not to look disturbed.

Obi-Wan turned back to the console, over which a revolving map of the world of Mygeeto was projected. He looked troubled. "In short, the campaigns are going very well. Saleucami has fallen, and Master Vos has moved his troops to Boz Pity."

Anakin noticed his friend's look. "So what's the problem?"

"The Senate is expected to vote more executive powers to the Chancellor today."

A week ago, Anakin would have applauded such a decision. The Senate's pointless bickering was getting the Republic nowhere, and the only time anything seemed to get done was when Palpatine stepped in. But ever since the incident on board the Invisible Hand, Anakin had become wary of his old friend. He knew it shouldn't bother him; outwardly Palpatine seemed as benevolent as ever. But in the quieter portions of his mind he could still the ruthless look Palpatine's face had worn as he told Anakin to cut down the kneeling Count Dooku. _Kill him. Kill him now._

And he had. Yes, he had refused to kill Dooku while he thought the man to be incapacitated, but when the Count had risen up and attacked Palpatine, Anakin had allowed his emotions to carry him and beheaded Dooku. He had done Palpatine's bidding, and for some reason, he was not comfortable with that.

Still, Palpatine had guided them well this far, so Anakin spoke in accordance with his political beliefs. "I understand your concerns, but doesn't this mean that there will be less deliberating and more action? Is that bad? It will make it easier for us to end this war."

Obi-Wan nodded, "It will, but Palpatine already has an enormous amount of executive power, so much so that he scarcely needs the Senate at all anymore. Theoretically, he could dissolve it at any time and still remain in effective control of the Republic. That's a dangerous amount of power. I know he's your friend, Anakin, but you need to be careful of him."

Anakin bit back on a retort that he could handle himself. "I will."

"He has requested your presence, and would not say why. He did not go through the Council."

"He didn't go through the Council?" Anakin frowned. "That's unusual, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan turned to leave, and Anakin followed him. "All of this is unusual. And it's making me uneasy."

_That makes two of us then._

* * *

Anakin walked with Palpatine around the Chancellor's office. Palpatine had not yet revealed his reasons for summoning Anakin, and Anakin was reluctant to bring it up, though he had a feeling it was something important.

Finally, Palpatine spoke. "I hope you trust me, Anakin."

Before the events of the _Invisible Hand_, Anakin would have felt shocked that Palpatine would even ask him such a question. The Chancellor had been his friend for thirteen years; he had trusted him almost as much as Obi-Wan, and certainly more than the other Masters on the Council. Now though, he was more wary of the Chancellor. He had a sense that the man had an ulterior motive.

"Of course," he answered cautiously.

Palpatine seemed dissatisfied with Anakin's unenthusiastic response. He studied him for a second, then continued. "I need your help, son."

"What for?"

Palpatine's voice carried a grave weight. "To be the eyes, ears, and voice of the Republic." He smiled magnanimously, "Anakin, I'm appointing you to be my personal representative on the Jedi Council."

Whatever Anakin had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it. He struggled to find his voice, "Me? A Master? I am overwhelmed, Sir. But the Council elects its own members; they'll never go for this."

Palpatine chuckled. "I think they will. They need you. More than you know."

Anakin's head spun. A Master. A seat on the Council. Something he had dreamed about since his thirteenth birthday. Palpatine was offering it to him the opportunity of a lifetime. He imagined the looks of shock on the faces of Master Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon, and the others who had looked down on him when he took his seat next to them, as an equal. This was exactly what he wanted. Yet a small, niggling doubt remained. He turned to Palpatine.

"Why do you need a personal representative on the Council?"

Palpatine headed over to the window and looked out, where a haze of smoke from the recent battle was still visible. As Anakin joined him, he spoke. "Anakin, this afternoon the Senate is going to call on me to take direct control of the Jedi Council."

So this was the executive power that the Senate was voting on. No wonder the Council was upset. "The Jedi will no longer report to the Senate?"

"They will report to me, personally. The Senate is too unfocused to conduct a war. This will bring a quick end to things."

Anakin nodded. He was in agreement, although it was a good thing Padmé wasn't here. She would berate him for hours if she found out. "I agree, but the Council is in no mood for anymore Constitutional amendments."

Palpatine nodded, as if in understanding. "Thank you, my friend, but in this case I have no choice . . . this war must be won."

"Everyone will agree on that. But still, why me?"

Palpatine looked at Anakin fondly. "Anakin, I've known you since you were a small boy. I have advised you over the years when I could ... I am very proud of your accomplishments. You have won many battles the Jedi Council thought were lost . . . and you saved my life. There is no one else I would rather entrust this responsibility to."

Anakin felt a surge of pleasure at those words, but he reined himself in. Obi-Wan's words still tugged at him, as did the events on the _Invisible Hand_. He decided to ask Palpatine for an explanation.

"Chancellor, there's something I want to ask you about …"

"I know," said Palpatine seriously. "My words to you on Grievous's flagship?" Anakin nodded.

Palpatine sighed. "Anakin, I am Chancellor of the Republic. I have to do what I believe is in the best interest of my government. Dooku had attacked our sovereignty. He would have seen the Republic fall and his alliance of bankers set up in its place. I could not allow that. I felt Dooku had to be eliminated for the good of the Republic. I would never ask you to do something that goes against your principles, unless I had a very, very good reason."

Anakin was not entirely convinced of that, but Palpatine's manner seemed so open and sincere that he decided to let his concerns slide for now. "I had better go and inform them of your decision."

Palpatine smiled generously. "They will know when the degree is posted shortly, but you may go, of course. I suspect that you have many congratulations in store for you."

Anakin bowed and left the office.

* * *

Palpatine sat down behind his desk as he watched Anakin depart. Even in his currently relaxed state, the boy radiated power. Palpatine closed his eyes and drew it to him. So much potential. With a force like that at his side he would be unstoppable. The Jedi would be crushed under such a formidable opponent. With Anakin's long reach combined with his own considerable strength, the entire galaxy would be within his iron grasp. There would be nothing the two of them could not accomplish.

But Skywalker was not making things easy for him. The young Jedi was headstrong, and not easily manipulated. His infernal principles and the pillars of stability and light that kept Anakin on the straight and narrow anchored the boy. One pillar was Anakin's former master and best friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Jedi Master had guided the boy for thirteen years, and a deep bond connected the two that Palpatine knew that even he could not sever. As long as Obi-Wan stood by him, Anakin would continue to allow himself to be chained by these damnable Jedi.

The other pillar was Anakin's strong and proud wife, Senator Padmé Amidala. Anytime Anakin showed an agreeable darkside trait, that woman was there to sooth it away. He would never fulfill his destiny as a Sith as long as that witch had him under her sway. She needed to be eliminated. But that was not going to be easy. Padmé was a resilient woman, and had already survived multiple attempts on her life. He could have her arrested on a technicality and then dispose of her quietly. Her opposition to him in the Senate certainly merited such an action. But that would force the hand of his enemies in the Senate, something he did not need right now. He could destroy her career, but outlandish as the idea was, Anakin would still love her even if she lost her wealth and power.

There was always the vision. Palpatine had gathered from Anakin's mind that he was deeply worried about his wife dying in childbirth. That could be a formidable tool for him to use. The tale of his unfortunate old master would spark the boy's interest. But if he was going to play the savior, then he needed Anakin to believe that he had his best interests at heart.

Palpatine was starting to regret his decision to order Anakin to kill Dooku. He had assumed that the boy's anger at the loss of his hand would be enough to make him want revenge. He would not assume anything again; it was too costly. By showing his cards too early, he had made a crucial mistake, one that could very well ruin his entire carefully constructed plan.

He had lost Anakin's blind trust.  
All of his verbal and mental manipulation required that Anakin trust him. It was the only way that the headstrong young Jedi could be persuaded to join the Sith. If Anakin were suspicious of his intentions, things would be more complicated. He would have to try another tactic.

Perhaps those pillars that supported him could be used after all. If he could erode the base, then the entire structure would come crashing down, and the Darkside could claim its own. Lost and without guidance, Anakin would be his.

He had already begun to set this plan in motion. For the longest time he had thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi only as an obstacle to be eliminated, but lately he was beginning to realize what a powerful ally the Jedi Master could be. In a way, Obi-Wan was almost as powerful as Anakin: not in raw power, of course, but he had much more control of the power did he possess, and wielded it just as effectively. He supposed that was why Obi-Wan and Anakin were so effective: they complemented each other. They became something greater when they worked together, and the fact that they did so while drawing on the weaker half of the force made it even more incredible. If they could both be turned …

_Lord Sidious,_ a voice in his head hissed, _you are exceeding your limits. You know there can only be two._

Palpatine gritted his teeth in annoyance. He didn't need this right now. He considered ignoring the voice, but knew from experience that it would only get more persistent. Turning inward, he confronted his legacy as a Sith.

"Darth Bane. What an unpleasant surprise. I thought for certain that I had expunged you and the rest of your pitiful descendants during my last meditation. Obviously I was mistaken."

_You know that you cannot do that. We are a part of you, whether you like it or not._

"I do," Sidious sighed, "But that doesn't stop me from trying."

_You always were persistent. Obviously it has now spread to your ambition. You cannot have two apprentices, Lord Sidious. It is against our code._

"I follow no code," Sidious snarled. "Only myself."

_I invoked the Law of Two to ensure that the Sith would survive. It has worked for a millennium, and now you would disregard it. Your arrogance could spell the end for the Sith._

"You call this surviving?" Sidious sneered. "Hiding in the shadows while the Jedi run amok in our galaxy? No wonder you were defeated. You are far too cautious. I would restore us, and here you are babbling about traditions. You disgust me."

The ancient Sith Lord's voice changed, becoming a high, sibilant whisper. A voice that Sidious knew only too well. _Would prefer that I talk to you as another? Perhaps your old unfortunate Master, Darth Plaugeis?_

Sidious grimaced. "Your old voice was fine."

The voice changed back to Bane's. _I see. I find it strange that you accuse me of being cautious, when it was you who cut Plaugeis down in his sleep._

"He had the secret to life! I had no choice!"

_You know that he had not achieved it just yet. You were afraid to confront him. You feared the look on his face when you betrayed him. But enough about the past. We must discuss the present. You cannot have both Skywalker and Kenobi. One must kill the other, if one is to become your apprentice at all._

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. I have already set a plan in motion that will bring them both under my sway."

_You would use them against each other. Their attachments to their friends, their women, and each other will be their undoing._

"Kenobi has a woman?" Palpatine mused. "How convenient."

_Their relationship is only in the early stages. But it will grow, much like the love that Skywalker and Amidala now share._

"Love is for the weak. If it does not serve a greater purpose, then its bonds must be broken."

_Many would say that there is nothing greater than love._

"Those who do inevitably are destroyed. It is a tool."

_Everything is a tool to you. You are a master of insidious manipulation, but what would you do if one of your tools refuses to be your puppet?_

Sidious smiled evilly. "Everyone is a puppet. You just have to know how to pull the strings."

_By underestimating the strengths of the Jedi you are making a mistake, and I will not allow your ultimate undoing at the hands of your own tools to be the end of the Sith._

"I am the first of a New Order, Bane. It may be your end, but not mine."

_We shall see._

Sidious slumped in his chair as the conversation ended. The rage and malice faded from him, and he became Palpatine once again. Bane's words had unsettled him. Perhaps he should only take one apprentice. If so, Anakin was his choice. But for now it was irrelevant. If Skywalker were to fall to the darkside, Kenobi needed to fall first, and Padmé needed to be removed from the equation. It was as simple as that.

Skywalker and Kenobi would both stand at his side, his right and left hands as he built his New Order, or they would be pitted against each other, and the stronger would prevail. Darth Sidious laughed as the last traces of light disappeared from the sky behind him. The darkness was coming.

* * *


	6. Roots of Rebellion

**funnyun:** Anakin doesn't suspect Obi-Wan of having an affair with Padme. The idea is hinted at, but never acted on. Thank you for reading!

**Jedi Master Arie Skywalker: **Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**i luv ewansmile:** Yes, Anakin's in love with Padme and Obi-Wan's starting to fall in love with Sabe. It won't be so happy for long.

**Ryuuko1:** Don't worry, there won't be too many OC's in this story. There will defenitely be some, but only one or two will have any major impact. I'm glad you enjoyed the secene with Bane and Palpatine.

**Colex:** Thanks for pointing out that spelling error. I'll make sure to correct it in future posts.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Padmé sat in Bail Organa's office, along with five other Senators. They had gathered together to discuss their growing concerns about an issue that all of them knew, but had been afraid to speak about before, as though to give voice to the idea would validate it.

Democracy was dying.

Padmé felt her baby kick, and for a moment, she envied the tiny life's untroubled existence. For the little being inside her, there was only love and the protection of its mother. Padmé knew already that she would do anything for her child, even die so that it might live, but what good was life if it would grow up in a galaxy without freedom?

So that was why they were all gathered here today. They were the Loyalists, the few remaining senators who truly had the Republic's best interests at heart. Most of the other Senators were too stupid to notice that the Republic was falling apart, or were too corrupt to care.

Senator Organa, who had called the meeting, was staring out the window; his shoulders slumped in grief. As a fervent believer in democracy, he considered himself to be a guardian of the Republic's principles, and the great institution that he had served for more than twenty years was crumbling on his watch. Padmé could feel the pain rolling off him; it reflected what she herself was feeling right now.

Organa turned to face them. His face showed none of the grief that was wracking him, but Padmé knew that it was a façade. He was trying to create the impression that the situation wasn't as much of a disaster as they all knew that it was.

He spoke, "Now that he has control of the Jedi Council, the Chancellor has appointed Governors to oversee all star systems in the Republic."

Fang Zar, the delegate from Sern Prime, looked surprised, "When did this happen?"

Organa shrugged, "The decree was posted an hour ago."

Padmé had known about Palpatine's subjugation of the Jedi Council, but had not heard about this. Regional governors combined with the clone army gave Palpatine effective control of every system in the Republic. It essentially made the Senate a disposable commodity. She voiced her concerns. "Do you think he will dismantle the Senate?"

Mon Mothma, the idyllic senator from Chandrilla spoke up. "Why bother? As a practical matter, the Senate no longer exists."

Giddean Danu, the towering human senator from Kuat, nodded his agreement with Mothma's grim proclamation. "The constitution is in shreds. Amendment after amendment . . . executive directives, sometimes a dozen in one day."

Bail Organa's expression became determined. "We can't let a thousand years of democracy disappear without a fight."

Everyone in the room looked more than a little shocked at Organa. They did not approve of the course Palpatine was taking, but the Senator had crossed a line. His statement bordered on treason. Terr Tanell, from Neelanon, looked at the door as though she expected Palpatine's guards to kick it down and drag Organa away.

When nothing of the sort occurred, she spoke up nervously, "What are you suggesting?"

Organa backed down a little. "I apologize. I didn't mean to sound like a Separatist."

Mothma quickly came to his defense. "We are not Separatists trying to leave the Republic. We are loyalists, trying to preserve democracy in the Republic."

Organa vigor doubled. "It has become increasingly clear that the Chancellor has become an enemy of democracy."

Padmé knew that Bail was speaking the truth, but that didn't make his statement any easier to take in. She shook her head in resignation. "I can't believe it has come to this! Chancellor Palpatine is one of my oldest advisors. He served as my Ambassador when I was Queen."

Danu spoke gravely. "Senator, I fear you underestimate the amount of corruption that has taken hold in the Senate."

Mothma nodded in disgust. "The Chancellor has played the Senators well. They know where the power lies, and they will do whatever it takes to share in it. Palpatine has become a dictator and we have helped him to do it."

Organa's eyes blazed. "We can't sit around debating any longer; we have decided to do what we can to stop it. Senator Mon Mothma and I are putting together an organization . . ."

Padmé's eyes widened. She knew what Bail was about to say. He was going to propose an alliance made of the most dedicated and trustworthy senators to covertly oppose Palpatine. Having been a part of such a resistance group thirteen years earlier during Naboo's occupation by the Trade Federation, she knew just how effective such groups could be. However, its success depended on being small enough not to be noticed, and no one who could possibly be singled out as a weak link could be allowed to know of their plans. She trusted all the Senators here, but their aides were another matter, and there could easily be hidden recording devices in place in the office. Bail had not exactly made his opposition to Palpatine a secret.

She held up a hand to silence Bail. "Say no more. Senator Organa. I understand. At this point, it's better to leave some things unsaid."

Bail nodded in agreement with Padmé's counsel. "Yes. I agree and we must not discuss this with anyone, without everyone in this group agreeing."

Mon Mothma fixed her gaze on all those present, her voice stern. "That means those closest to you … even family … no one can be told."

Padmé nearly took issue with that. She knew that Anakin, despite his closeness to Palpatine, could be trusted with such information. He was a Jedi after all. But if she disagreed, or even told Anakin despite their vows of secrecy, the other senators would be reluctant to keep silent. She could not be sure that every member of every senator's family could be trusted. She looked around, everyone else was nodding in agreement, and Bail and Mon were looking at her, waiting for her answer.

She nodded. "Agreed."

Bail smiled. "Good. We will have another meeting soon."

As all the senators got up to leave, Bail and Mon Mothma sought Padmé out. Bail's tone dropped so that Padmé had to lean close to hear him. "Mon and I will contact you shortly. We know you have experience with resistance cells; we would like you to help us organize some sort of command structure."

Padmé nodded. "Call through Sabé's box, mine is likely being watched."

The three defenders of the Republic exited the room together.

* * *

Anakin stood nervously in front of the Jedi Council, awaiting their verdict. The eleven Jedi Masters who surrounded him were supposed to give any who stood before them an impression that they were in the eye of a storm, a calm center shielded from the madness of the galaxy.

Anakin felt more like he was in a cage.

During the thirteen years that he had been a Jedi, he had never been comfortable with any of this esteemed company, except for Obi-Wan of course. He always got the impression that the Masters were studying him, as though searching for a fault, a weakness on which they could pounce.

Their viewpoints on him differed. Ki-Adi Mundi and Plo Koon, were always on his case about something or other. Masters Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Kit Fisto tolerated him, as though he were a necessary part of their cause, if not a welcomed one. Pablo-Jill and Stass Allie seemed wary of him, as if he were a disguised threat. Mace Windu was an enigma; he clearly respected Anakin and his abilities, but his tendency to be condescending made Anakin feel like a child. Shaak Ti held a degree of sympathy for him; she had always treated him fairly, sensing the enormity of the burden placed upon him. Obi-Wan, his old friend and strongest supporter, had always defended Anakin, despite his tendency to be overcritical. And Yoda … Anakin was not sure what Yoda thought of him. Like Mace, he respected Anakin's abilities greatly, but the wisest member of the Jedi Council seemed content to let Anakin take his own path, trusting in the Force to guide the eager, but arrogant young Knight.

Anakin had often asked himself why he desired a spot on the Council alongside those who made him feel so uneasy. Each time, to Anakin's shame, it came down to power. Power and respect. Recognition of his abilities. Acceptance. Once he took his seat alongside them, he would no longer be an outsider. They could no longer look down on him. He would be an equal.

That was why he had conflicting feelings about Palpatine's decision to appoint him to the Council. While he had desired it greatly, he had also wanted to earn it. The whole reason he was so adamant about it was that he felt that he had earned it and the Council was just holding him back. Or at least, he thought he had. Now, he wasn't sure. When he took his seat on the Council, he wanted the Masters to accept him, not be resigned to his presence. He did not want Palpatine to throw him a bone.

Mace Windu spoke, "Anakin, we have approved your appointment to the Council as the Chancellor's personal representative."

Anakin knew he should feel elated, but he only felt empty. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

At least he could do his duty like a Jedi. "I will do my best to uphold the principles of the Jedi Order."

Yoda spoke, "Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not. Dangerous and disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine."

Anakin spoke up, "Master Yoda, I did not ask to be placed on the Council. Nor did you recommend me for it. I will do my duty, but I don't feel like I've earned a place here, or if I should be made a Jedi Master."

Mace nodded, "Your concern is valid. You are on this Council, but we do not grant you the rank of Master."

Anakin bit back on a surprised exclamation. It wasn't so much the actual statement that bothered him; it was the casual way in which it was delivered. Maybe he had not earned the rank of Master, but had he at least merited consideration?

Yet the last thing he wanted was to justify whatever the Council thought of him by losing control, so he said simply, "I understand, Master."

Surprise was reflected on many of the Council member's faces, Obi-Wan's included. Clearly they had been anticipating an outburst. Mace Windu, however, nodded approvingly, and indicated the chair that had been vacant since Adi Gallia had resigned from the Council a month earlier. "Take a seat, young Skywalker."

Anakin made his way over to his seat and sat down, ignoring the stares of the other Masters.

Ki-Adi Mundi's hologram began the discussion with the most important topic: finding the rouge droid general who was refusing to let the war end. "Our scouts have searched every system in the Republic, but have found no trace of General Grievous."

Yoda did not look surprised. "Hiding in the Outer Rim, Grievous is. The outlying systems, you must sweep."

Obi-Wan frowned. "It may take some time . . . we do not have many ships to spare. But we must take action. Allowing the droid army to regroup could prove fatal."

Saesee Tiin shook his head. "We must be patient. Grievous will reveal himself in time."

Anakin shot him a disgusted look. Grievous, coward that he was, might not reveal himself for years and every day of this war was costing the Republic lives.

Obi-Wan did not appear any happier with Tiin's statement than Anakin was. "With all due respect, Master Tiin, patience has its limits. If we do not find Grievous soon, he will rebuild his forces and go on the offensive again. We cannot allow that to happen."

Anakin spoke, "We have the Separatists on the brink. Eliminating Grievous will mean the end of the Confederacy, and the end of the war."

Shaak Ti lent her voice to the debate. "I agree with Obi-Wan and Anakin. Whatever it takes, Grievous must be found."

Master Tiin did not like the way things were stacked against him. "So you would have us risk all we have earned by scattering our limited forces throughout the galaxy? Aggressive action at this point could cost us more dearly than any campaigns we have launched so far."

Pablo-Jill came to his support. "We defend, we do not attack. Only the Sith strike in anger."

Yoda stepped in, "Enough. Found, Grievous must be. Master Kenobi, our spies contact, you must, then wait."

Obi-Wan nodded.

Ki-Adi Mundi quickly brought up another topic. "What of the droid attack on the Wookies?"

"It is critical that we send an attack group there immediately," Mace declared.

"I agree," Obi-Wan stated, "That is a system we cannot afford to lose. It's the main navigation route for the southwestern quadrant."

Anakin spoke up. "I know that system well. It would take little time for us to drive the droids off planet."

Mace shook his head. "Skywalker, I know you could lead such a campaign, but your assignment is here with the Chancellor."

Yoda came to a decision. "Go, I will. Good relations with the Wookies, I have."

Mace nodded approvingly. "It's settled then. Yoda will take a battalion of clones to reinforce the Wookiees on Kashyyyk. May the Force be with us all."

With that conclusion, the Council was dismissed.

* * *

"You know, Anakin," Obi-Wan commented as the two of them descended from the Council's spire, "You handled that better than I thought you would."

"Really?" Anakin did not seem to be in the best of moods. "You think so little of my self-control?"

"Nothing of the sort," Obi-Wan corrected him. "I merely knew how much you desired the title of Jedi Master."

"I didn't bother to get my hopes up. I had a feeling the Council was not going to take kindly to this. Besides, I want the respect the title gives. If they aren't going to give me that, then it's useless."

"I understand your frustration. The Council is no longer as perceptive as it once was."

"I know. They waste time by reciting ancient mantras and bickering among themselves about whether the action taken will sponsor an even greater reaction. If Yoda hadn't stepped in up there, we'd still be arguing with Master Tiin about whether or not to even bother looking for Grievous!"

Obi-Wan frowned.

Anakin suddenly remembered whom he was talking to. Obi-Wan was always telling him to trust in the Council's greater wisdom. He stopped his tirade and mentally berated himself.

But then Obi-Wan said, "I see your point."

"What?" If General Grievous had suddenly burst into the Temple and started dancing with Jocasta Nu, Anakin would not have been more surprised.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Lately, I have been taking this train of thought more and more. The Council is falling away from the principles that made it the most respected leadership body in the Republic. Instead of leading, we speculate about what to do. Instead of discussing issues, we argue them. Instead of defending the Republic, we let it crumble. Instead of _accepting_ the truth, we _deny_ it."

Anakin's head was spinning. "Master, I always thought that you had absolute trust in the Council. You always told me their collective wisdom …"

"Yes, I did," Obi-Wan replied. "And I believed it. But now, I have seen too much death to believe that the Council's way of winning the war is the right way. The Jedi's way, yes. But not the Council's."

Anakin smiled in disbelief. "That's exactly what I believe. I never thought in a million years you'd agree with me."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Maybe you've been a bad influence on me."

"I highly doubt that. You've been nothing but a good one on me."

Obi-Wan's face clouded. "Anakin, there is something I must speak to you about. The Council has an assignment for you."

"What kind of assignment?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "The Council wants you to report on all the Chancellor's dealings. They want to know what he's up to."

Anakin was shocked. "They want me to spy on the Chancellor? That's treason!"

"We are at war, Anakin. The Council feels that the Chancellor is not upholding the principles of the Republic, so they must."

"You say, 'they'. Wouldn't it be 'us'?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin, I was not in favor of this. I tried to dissuade them. I don't want Palpatine to have more chances to subject you to his influence."

"The Chancellor is not a bad man, Obi-Wan. He …" Anakin stopped. He no longer knew if what he had said was the truth.

"You aren't sure anymore, are you?"

Anakin bowed his head. "No."

"Anakin, I am on your side. I didn't want to have to ask this of you."

Anakin looked up. "Why didn't the Council give me this assignment when we were in session?"

"This assignment is not to be on record. The Council asked me to approach you about it personally."

"So it can't be traced back to them if it fails?"

"Anakin, now you are being irrational. Our allegiance is to the Senate, not to its leader who has managed to stay in office long after his term has expired."

"This is against the Jedi Code. And the Republic."

"Unfortunately, yes. The Council feels that to uphold the greater good, it must be done."

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan intently, as if trying to discover a reason behind his words. "Why are you asking this of me?"

Obi-Wan's voice sounded almost bitter. "The Council is asking you."


	7. Passion and Freedom

Thank you for all the reviews! I promise I will respond next time, I just have too much on my plate right now. Anyway, here's another chapter.**

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**Chapter 9**

The Republic Gunship sped over Coruscant's vast new military plaza. Three years ago, this section of the city had been decaying and had actually been scheduled for demolition when the war broke out. Now, new barracks and landing platforms glowed in the light of Coruscant's setting sun. Dozens of ships, from massive capital cruisers to sleek spy ships were touching down here after months in the Outer or Mid Rims, while dozens more were taking off, bound for engagements in the far reaches of the galaxy. The three Jedi Masters were bound for the Kashyyyk platform, on the far side.

The mood inside the gunship was very somber. All three Masters were staring out at the military complex, saying nothing, but thinking a great deal. Obi-Wan Kenobi finally broke the tense silence.

"Anakin did not take to his new assignment with much enthusiasm."

Yoda looked grave. "Too much under the sway of the Chancellor, he is. Much anger there is in him. Too much pride in his powers."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I think you're wrong there, Master. Anakin has changed since we returned to Coruscant. He has become wary of the Chancellor's motives."

Mace Windu continued to stare out the open door. "I have noticed this as well. It's a good sign, but it's still very dangerous, putting the two of them together. I don't know if the boy can handle it. I'm not sure I trust him."

Obi-Wan felt a brief flash of anger, but he ignored it. Master Windu had a right to be nervous about Anakin. They were playing with fire, after all.

"He'll be all right. I trust him with my life."

"I wish I did."

Obi-Wan's annoyance increased. Master Windu and Master Yoda were usually not so blatantly pessimistic. When Obi-Wan had had doubts about Anakin's ability to handle his first assignment alone, Mace and Yoda had been the ones to reassure him they had confidence in Anakin. That they doubted him now was disturbing.

"With all due respect, Master, is he not the Chosen One? Is he not to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force?"

Mace looked unsure. "So the prophecy says."

"A prophecy … that misread, could have been," Yoda warned them.

Silence greeted his words. Clearly the thought was not one that was enjoyable to entertain.

After a few seconds, Obi-Wan spoke again. "He will not let me down. He never has."

Yoda stared at him. "I hope right, you are."

Obi-Wan decided to take a chance. "Master, while we are on the subject of misreading, I have noticed that the Council members have become less perceptive. I feel that the wisdom of the Council is declining."

He fully expected both of them to disagree. Instead, Yoda sighed. "Right, you are. By the Darkside, clouded their vision is."

Mace looked sad. "Throughout all my years on the Council, I have never seen it more disjointed. We are no longer united, we let out arrogance blind us, and we trust our own views more than each other's."

"Showing his hand, Darth Sidious is."

Obi-Wan looked at Yoda. "You think the Sith Lord is responsible for this?"

Yoda closed his eyes. "Unsure, I am. But not only to the Senate, does his influence spread."

They touched down on the landing pad. Yoda stood up. "Continue this discussion later, we will. And now destroy the droid armies on Kashyyyk, I must. May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan and Mace returned the sentiment, and as Yoda hobbled over toward a towering Wookie general, the gunship lifted off into the darkening sky.

* * *

A speeder pulled up to the balcony of Senator Amidala's apartment. Padmé exited the craft, followed by Elle and Motee. Captain Typho, who had been driving, quickly scanned the horizon, the nodded to Padmé.

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Captain."

He returned the smile. "Rest well, My Lady." He flew off back toward the city.

Sabé came hurrying down the steps, followed by C-3PO. Padmé hugged her cousin tightly. "How was your day?"

"Eventful. I've been all over the city. There's a message for you, though. It came through my box, so it must have been a mistake."

Padme's throat tightened. "Have you read it?"

"Of course not, My Lady. It was addressed to you. Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

Padmé breathed a small sigh of relief. Of course she trusted Sabé, but they could not be too careful at this stage. She grinned at Sabé.

"Yes, two things. One, for the thousandth time, stop calling me My Lady. I'm your cousin, and there's no one here. Call me Padmé. Two, go do something relaxing for yourself. You've been working all day."

"But Padmé …"

"No buts. I'm not taking no for an answer. If you're really averse to relaxing, go to the training room or something. You need to blow off steam."

Sabé nodded reluctantly. "Alright, Padmé."

Padmé smiled wickedly. "Have fun."

Sabé threw a cushion at her. Padmé caught it. "I've still got pretty good hands, you know. And I'm a dead shot. So don't make you chase you out the door with this fearsome weapon."

"All right!" Sabé laughed. "I'm going." She ducked out the door.

Padmé dropped the cushion back onto the couch, then collapsed on it. It had been an exhausting day. Not only had she met with Bail and Mon Mothma again, she had also had to sit on a committee overseeing a botched judicial case and give a report on the trade difficulties between the Core manufacturing facilities and the Mid Rim shipping worlds that supplied them. She did not enjoy such tasks, but they were necessary for a Senator, and she could pay the price when she had the opportunity to do so much good.

She dismissed Elle and Motee, as well as Threepio. As wonderful as they were, there was only one person she wanted to see right now, and that person was nowhere in sight. Anakin must still be at the Jedi Temple, perhaps in the middle of a Council meeting. She had been so happy for him when she had learned of his appointment; it had been the highlight of her day. But with this new duty, he would have to be at the Temple more, and would have less time to spend with her. They already saw so little of each other.

Padmé stood up and gazed at the setting sun. She knew she should go listen to Bail's message, but it would still be there in a few minutes and right now, she simply wanted to be free of responsibility.

The sunset, despite the fact that it was framed by skyscrapers instead of blooming trees, reminded her of the one she had seen on her wedding night three years ago at the Varykino Lake Retreat. Anakin had been standing just behind her, his arms wrapped about her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. She had never known happiness like that before. Her hand brushed lightly against the japor snippet. She would give anything to have that moment recreated right now, and have all her worries washed away.

Warm arms slipped around her from behind and a soft voice whispered in her ear, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Padmé was startled only for a second, then she melted into Anakin's embrace. _Maybe some wishes do come true._

"You startled me," she said teasingly, reaching back over her shoulder to tousle his hair.

He rested his head on her shoulder to let her have easier access. "Sorry, My Lady," he murmured against her neck. He pulled off the tight brown cap she wore, freeing her long, dark hair. "You know I prefer it when you wear your hair down."

She gave her head a shake, allowing her hair to settle into a more natural position. Anakin brushed it aside and kissed her neck gently. They moved back from the edge of the veranda and sat down on the couch.

Anakin took Padmé's hand and glanced at her stomach. "How are you feeling?"

Padmé looked down and smiled. "He keeps kicking."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "He? Why do you think it's a boy?"

Padmé laughed. "My motherly intuition."

She placed Anakin's hand on her abdomen. The baby gave another kick and Anakin pulled back. "Whoa! With a kick that strong, it's got to be a girl."

They shared a laugh, then Padmé said, "I heard about your appointment, Anakin. I'm so proud of you."

Anakin's smiled faded, and he looked back out at the veranda. "I may be on the Council, but they refused to accept me as a Jedi Master."

Padmé placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Patience. In time they will recognize your skills."

"It's not just that," Anakin's look became even more troubled. "The Council is deteriorating. It's not the grand collection of Masters it used to be. It's as disorganized as the Senate, no offence meant."

Padmé didn't know what to say, so she squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Sometimes, I wonder what's happening to the Jedi Order . . . I think this war is destroying the principles of the Republic."

Padmé thought exactly the same thing. The Republic she had loved was being eroded away by some unseen flow of corruption, until it was scarcely recognizable. It was hardly even worth fighting for anymore. "Have you ever considered that we may be on the wrong side?"

Anakin frowned suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists, and the Republic has become the very evil we have been fighting to destroy?"

Anakin sighed. "Before my return to Coruscant, I would have labeled such a statement as treasonous. But now … I'm not sure. I don't know what to believe in anymore."

Padmé continued. "You see, Anakin? It's very hard for me to say, but I don't know what to believe in either. The principles of the Republic that I love so much are gone. There's only corruption. And this war … is at the heart of it. It represents a failure to listen . . . and everything else that's wrong with the Republic. Anakin, you're closer to the Chancellor than anyone. Please, please ask him to stop the fighting and let diplomacy resume."

"Diplomacy," Anakin shook his head, "is a concept that is foreign to both me and the Chancellor. Maybe that's part of the reason of why we got along so well. If you think about it, the Chancellor has had dozens of opportunities to make peace with the Separatists. Now that he has them on the brink, why would he make concessions when, with a little more pressure, he could drive them to an unconditional surrender? It's the decision that makes the most sense, both politically and militarily. And for years, I agreed with that viewpoint. In a sense, I still do."

Padmé was shocked. "Anakin, you have to try. Even if we have to make a few concessions. Tolerance is what the Republic is built on. If we crush the Separatists simply because it's easier to do so, then we are not fighting a just cause. You're the only one who can make this work; he'll listen to you!"

"He won't," Anakin said resignedly. "He'll thank me for my concern and praise my wisdom, but then he'll give me a near-flawless argument about how it won't work, only his way will. He's brilliant at that, so much so that I'd find myself agreeing with him. I'd think he is the brightest hope for the Republic. But now …" Anakin sounded lost, "I'm no longer sure he has the Republic's best interests at heart."

Padmé had come to that conclusion herself. But while it had hit her hard, her own distress seemed insignificant next to Anakin's. He seemed to have had the world swept out from under his feet. "Many of the Senators have come to the same conclusion."

"I'm afraid it's not just him," Anakin looked at her, pain in his eyes. "Jedi intelligence points Darth Sidious to Palpatine's inner circle. The Chancellor may be being directly influenced by him."

Padmé knew of the rumors of the Dark Lord controlling the Senate, rumors most of her colleagues had dismissed as ludicrous. She herself saw serious potential in it; it would explain many things. The news that the Chancellor might be being used, however, was new, and even more disturbing.

"I wish I could help him," Anakin continued. "He's my friend, even if I no longer think he's infallible, or even trustworthy." He got up and looked out at Coruscant's skyline again.

Padmé got up and stood beside him. "Something else is troubling you."

Anakin nodded. "Three things kept me going through the darkest times, Padmé. Obi-Wan guidance, trust in the Chancellor, and your love. Now I've lost one of them. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

Padmé wrapped her arms around him, bringing him close. "Hold me," she whispered, "like you did by the lake on Naboo, so long ago . . . when there was nothing but our love ... No politics, no plotting ... no war."

Anakin embraced her tightly, burying his face in her hair and softly kissed the top of her head. The two lovers remained there, letting everything else slide as they lost themselves in each other.

* * *

Obi-Wan and Mace returned to the Jedi Temple, where the two Masters parted. Mace headed for the Gardens, clearly intending to meditate on his troubles. Obi-Wan considered joining him, but decided he had far too many thoughts and emotions swirling around in his head to even attempt meditation. Sleep was out of the question as well. He would have to distract himself somehow.

Perhaps he should head for the sparring room, but it was likely to be empty by now, and he didn't feel like putting himself through individual exercises right now. That would not achieve the desired calm. What he really needed was to talk with someone, but as soon as he headed for the Archives, he would be waylaid by Saesee Tiin or some other Council member, the last people who wanted to talk to right now. Then another, better idea came to him: Sabé.

Yes, it was late, but if he remembered correctly, Sabé did not hold herself to an early curfew. She would likely still be up, and her melodious voice would help him forget his tiresome day.

Obi-Wan borrowed a speeder from the Temple hanger and set off for Five Hundred Replica. He really shouldn't be doing this, the emotions that had stirred in him the last time he had visited Sabé were not those he should encourage. Attachment was forbidden after all. But Sabé was probably not even interested, and for Obi-Wan, the non-attachment rule was already pretty much shattered. He was so attached to Anakin that it was beginning to affect his judgment.

He arrived at Five Hundred Replica, parked his speeder, and took an elevator up to the top floor. The door was flanked by two handmaidens, neither of whom, Obi-Wan was disappointed to see, was Sabé. He asked where she was, and one of them told him she had gone down to the training room three floors below. He noted the protective way they stood in front of the door, which was clearly locked. Padmé must want privacy.

_Who with, I wonder?_ he thought sarcastically as he made his way down to the training room.

Sabé was the only person in the training room, currently engaged in beating the living daylights out of a large punching bag. Her long, chestnut hair was tied back in a loose bun, and Obi-Wan was dismayed to notice that she was wearing only a thin tank top and sparring pants, which clearly showed off her toned body.

He stepped in, unnoticed. Sabé continued to attack the bag, delivering two hard punches and a spinning kick, finishing it off with a bladed hand aimed at where an opponent's throat would be. Finished, she let herself relax, and reached for a towel to wipe her face.

"Impressive," Obi-Wan commented.

Sabé jumped and whirled around, but when she saw Obi-Wan, a smile broke out across her face.

"Obi-Wan! So good to see you! I'd give you a hug, but I'm all sweaty."

"Please don't then," Obi-Wan smiled. Already he had left his troubles out in the hallway.

She snapped her towel at him. Obi-Wan dodged quickly, his Jedi reflexes saving him from a painful smack on the chest. "Careful with that. You could hurt someone."

"You'd deserve it, for an evil comment like that," she laughed. "So what are you doing here?"

"I had a lot on my mind," Obi-Wan said "I'd thought I come over here and pour it out on you."

"You did say that we would continue our conversation," Sabé grinned. "Although listening to your Jedi troubles wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

"Then I won't bother you with them. Maybe you'd like to spar? I considered doing it at the Jedi Temple, but there was no one there to do it with."

Sabé nodded "I'd love too. No Jedi powers, though."

Obi-Wan grinned and took off his boots and robe, leaving on the light tunic he wore underneath. "I'll try."

They faced each other on a square mat about five meters by three. Each stood perfectly still, waiting for the other to make the first move.

After a few seconds, Sabé came in with a fast chopping hand, aimed at his sternum. Obi-Wan's hands moved innately into the correct defensive position, stopping Sabé's hand centimeters away from its target. Grabbing onto her wrist, he propelled her away from him and then thrust a flattened palm at her nose. She met the attack with her other arm, deflecting it away and using her momentum to aim a sweeping kick at his shins.

Obi-Wan jumped over her outstretched leg and flipped, grabbing Sabé's upper arm as he did so. Had she resisted, she would have been slammed to the mat, the breath knocked from her. Instead, she went with the flow of the move, hit the mat and somersaulted, regaining her feet in perfect balance. She countered Obi-Wan's next offensive and then launched one of her own, a scissor kick at his knees. He blocked low and launched a hook with his other hand, which she caught on the palm of her outstretched hand.

Sabé went on the offensive then, a lightning series of punches and knife-hands aimed at his head and designed to overwhelm. But Obi-Wan was a master of the defensive form Soresu, and he did not need a lightsaber to incorporate the technique into his fighting. Keeping his hands close to his body, he parried every attack, expending little energy as he did so.

As Sabé's blows began to slow, he went on the offensive once again, this time intending to use his superior strength on powerful blows that would slowly break down her defenses. Effectively placed punches occupied Sabé's hands, leaving her open to attack from a quick elbow to the chest, followed by a kick to the side. Sabé fell back, and Obi-Wan moved in for the finisher. Quickly, she used her free leg to knock his feet out from, then somersaulted over him, landing a hard blow on his shoulder than froze his arm for a second. Another strike followed, but Obi-Wan rolled out of the way, leapt to his feet, crouched, and met her charge head on, using Sabé's own momentum to flip her over his shoulder to land hard on her back on the mat. She was down.

Breathing slightly harder than he though he would have too, Obi-Wan reached down to help her up. "Good match."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down on top of her, then quickly trapped his legs and sat on his chest, pinning him beneath her. She smiled innocently. "Guess I'm on top."

Obi-Wan eyes narrowed in protest. "No fair."

Using the Force, he lifted her off of him and held her a meter above the mat while he climbed to his feet. Letting her hang, he brushed himself off.

Sabé did not look amused. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," she demanded, "Put me down!"

He grinned wickedly. "As you wish." Then he dumped her unceremoniously onto the mat.

Sabé got to her feet and glared at him. "You cheated! I said no Force Powers."

Obi-Wan's look became indignant. "I cheated? You were down and when I bent over to help you up, you attacked me."

Sabé shook her head. "I may have been down, but I wasn't out!"

"Right." Obi-Wan grinned and extended his hand. "Let's call it a draw."

She shook his offered hand and matched his grin. "I'll take that."

She handed him a towel and the two of them dried themselves off. Obi-Wan noticed that even though Sabé's face was flushed and her hair was in disarray, she still looked stunning. He had to force himself not to stare.

They had been so close, and he had felt no shame at all. He could still feel her warmth on his chest and hands. The feeling made his head spin. His heart was beating faster and he was breathing more quickly than he had during their sparring session. He poured himself a glass of water from the cooler in the container. It didn't help at all.

He thought he saw Sabé look at him, but when he turned to face her, her head quickly jerked away. She seemed far too intent on pulling on a cover-up shirt. It kept slipping out of her hands, and more than once she put an arm through the wrong hole. He heard her curse under her breath.

He stepped over to her. "Let me help."

"No, no," she said, embarrassed. "It's all right, I've got it …"

Obi-Wan took the shirt and pulled it over her head. "Thanks," she mumbled.

He suddenly realized just how close he was standing to her. She was inches away her face right below his. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He could practically kiss her now. All he had to do was bend over …

_Stop!_ His rational side warned him. _You can't do this. The code, it's forbidden …_

His irrational side had a resounding answer. _SHUT UP! DO IT!_

Sabé's deep brown eyes were boring into his blue ones. He was losing control fast, she wasn't looking away …

"Sabé …" he breathed, and then his lips found hers.

The kiss was tentative at first, merely a brush of the lips, but it deepened as Sabé, who he had expected to pull away, stretched up and pressed her mouth more firmly against his. And any protests or concerns Obi-Wan might have had vanished instantly.

He was free.

They broke apart at last, gasping for air. Obi-Wan was immediately shocked, and pulled back. "I'm sorry, Sabé," he said, "We shouldn't have done that. I got carried away, I lost control, it won't happen again …"

Sabé put her finger to his lips, silencing his tirade. "Obi-Wan," she whispered. And then she was kissing him again.

This time there was no reservation; the Jedi Master and the Senator's handmaiden gave themselves completely over to each other. Obi-Wan's hands ran down Sabé's back while her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. For the seconds that their lips were connected, there was nothing but them in the galaxy.

Finally, they pulled apart again. Obi-Wan was shocked to see the sun had gone down and the sky was black; he had no idea how long they had been there. As much as he wanted to stay, he needed to get back to the Temple.

"Sabé," he said softly, "I have to go." She nodded reluctantly.

"But I'd like to see you again. I think we need to talk …"

She cut him off. "Say no more. I know. Anytime you're ready, I will be."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan turned and walked quickly away. He didn't trust himself to look back; if he did, he might not be able to leave if he did so. But he did steal one glance as he left the room. She was still standing there, watching him walk away. "Not for long," he whispered.

As he disappeared from sight, Sabé smiled.

Even with the lateness of the hour, there were still quite a few politicians and bureaucrats wandering the hallways of Five Hundred Replica. For them, business would go on long into the night and possibly the morning as well. They roamed the corridors in small groups, huddled together and talking in low voices so as not to be overheard. They appeared to be far too engrossed in their own affairs to pay attention to anyone else. Or maybe not.

It was only after receiving some very strange looks from a pair of passing Senatorial aides that Obi-Wan realized that he was grinning like an idiot. Hastily, he wiped the embarrassing expression from his face, but he could not dim the jubilant feeling inside of him. He felt like he was walking on air with his head in the clouds. Normally this loss of control would have made him feel very annoyed, but right now it was intoxicating.

No other Jedi Masters would be pleased to hear of this. Detachment, serenity, an emotionless state of mind was paramount for a Jedi, as it was only by submerging oneself in the Force that its will could be interpreted. He had worked for years to achieve that state, but a single kiss from a beautiful woman had shattered it and hurled its fragments out of a thousand-story window. To be honest, Obi-Wan did not regret that in the slightest. This feeling of euphoria was far more satisfying than any meditation he had ever achieved.

Yet any Master would not see it that way. It would be viewed as dangerous; something to be crushed before it even had a chance to bloom so he could return to his previous hollow state. That scenario was too unpleasant to think about. A flame of unbidden anger rose into his mind, but instead of putting it out, Obi-Wan let it burn. How they possibly make him do that? How could something this pure, something so natural, something so _right_ possibly be dangerous?

For the first time, he thought that he might truly understand Anakin Skywalker.

Still storming down the corridor, Obi-Wan was not paying much attention to where he was going. Turning a corner, his Jedi senses flared and he leapt aside, barely managing to avoid crashing into Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

Shocked at what he had nearly done, Obi-Wan rushed forward to apologize. The Red Guards flanking Palpatine immediately raised their staffs into an aggressive position, but the Chancellor waved them down.

"Chancellor, are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, mind still buzzing from the close encounter.

"Yes, yes," Palpatine smiled generously, showing no ill will at having nearly been bowled over. "No harm done at all. Your quick reflexes were most admirable there, saving us both from a potentially embarrassing situation."

"I've had years of practice," Obi-Wan said lightly, "If I may ask, what are you doing in Five Hundred Replica at this late hour?"

"I could ask you the same question," Palpatine smiled, "But I am willing to bet that such information is your own personal business, so I will not be so rude as to pry. I am here for Senate business. Urgent, unfortunately, even at this time of night. But you needn't trouble yourself with that. I'm sure you have somewhere you need to be; you certainly seemed to be in a hurry."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Chancellor?" It was the least he could ask, considering how he had very nearly flattened the man.

"Yes, as matter of fact," Palpatine said congenially, "I have been looking for Anakin without success. The next time that you see him, could you please pass along that I would be most honored if he would join me at the Galaxy Opera House for the Mon Calamari ballet rendition of 'Squid Lake' tomorrow night? I have something important to discuss with him."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said. Privately, he wondered why Palpatine was giving him this information to pass on; with Anakin's new position, the Chancellor was sure to see him just as much as Obi-Wan. But he was anxious to be off, so he did not seek a reason.

Palpatine nodded. "Thank you, Master Kenobi. I expect I shall be seeing you again very soon."

Obi-Wan's Jedi Sense flared slightly. Innocent though it was, Palpatine's statement had unnerved him. Refusing to allow his discomfort to show, he bowed. "Good night, Chancellor."

"Farewell."

Obi-Wan marched briskly away, ignoring Palpatine's stare until he reached the elevator and descended out of sight.


	8. The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis

I apologize for mislabeling the past two chapters. I will correct that as soon as I can.

**weebleedeegogers:** Thank you! I'm glad you like it.

**Technomage007:** Glad to hear it! Hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it.

**MMM73181:** I'll update on the boards as soon as I can. It will probably be sometimeafter May 8.

**Dark Austral:** Yeah, Palpatine has a tendency to make those ever so convenient appearences, doesn't he? More Obi-Wan/Sabe action soon.

**Jedi Master Arie Skywalker:** Palpatine has indeed locked in on Obi-Wan. Just wait and see ...

**Ryuuko1:** Thank you for the compliments! That you're so excited about this story means a lot to me.

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**Chapter 8**

A bright yellow speeder whipped through Coruscant's crowded traffic lanes, far exceeding recommended speed and passing vehicles left and right. The drivers of the other speeders blared their horns angrily and shouted curses, but the driver of the yellow speeder had no time to care.

After five minutes of frantic flying, the speeder reached its destination, the Galaxy Opera House. It pulled into a parking space, and Anakin Skywalker leapt from the driver's seat, using the Force to turn off the ignition. He began to run up the grand stairs leading into the theater, ignoring the scandalized stairs of the many dignitaries who were ascending at a far less rapid pace.

He had been in seclusion all day; so Obi-Wan had only just told him about the Chancellor's request. By that time, he had less than half an hour to meet Palpatine. If he had not committed about fifty traffic violations, he would not be here at all.

Turning into the upstairs hallway, he found the Chancellor's box and quickly ducked inside.

The occupants did not notice him enter; they were too busy watching the eerie spectacle of the ballet and conversing in such low voices that even Anakin's keen hearing could not pick up what was being said. He approached Palpatine at the front of the box and whispered, "You wanted to see me, Chancellor?"

Palpatine broke off his conversation with Mas Amedda abruptly and smiled at Anakin with a fatherly affection. "Yes, Anakin! Come closer, I have good news."

Anakin got down on one knee so that he could hear the Chancellor better. Palpatine continued in a low voice. "Our clone intelligence units have discovered the location of General Grievous. He's hiding in the Utapau system.

Anakin had heard of Utapau before. During the Outer Rim Sieges several Jedi Generals had debated about whether or not to invade Utapau or to press on to other more important worlds. A detailed surveillance scan had not revealed enough to merit the resources such an invasion would require, so the campaign had been abandoned. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense why the Confederate presence had evaded detection. Utapau was a sanctuary world, not a military base. Grievous had probably been very covert about acquiring it; so that he and the other Confederate leaders could have a place to plot without exposing themselves to danger. Something that they excelled at, he thought in disgust. This was the best news he had heard in a long time; Grievous could finally be brought to justice.

"At last," he breathed, "We'll be able to capture that monster and end this war."

Palpatine looked at Anakin with a mixture of fondness and sympathy. "I would worry about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn't select you for this assignment. You are the best choice by far … but, they can't always be trusted to do the right thing."

Anakin was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. Clearly he was supposed to take the complement at face value. He had been thinking along these same lines himself, of course, but the way the Chancellor said it made him uneasy. "They try," he muttered in the Council's defense, as much as it galled him to do so.

Palpatine indicated the empty chair next to him. "Sit down," he invited Anakin. Turning to his aides he ordered, "Leave us." Without a word Amedda and Sly Moore stood up and exited the box.

Anakin took the offered seat and fixed his stare on the performers on the stage. Palpatine leaned over to him, his face and voice suggesting that he was confiding a great secret. "Anakin, you know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Council. If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will."

"I'm not sure I understand," Anakin responded, surprised. It was true, he had no idea were this was going.

Palpatine continued, his expression suggesting a defeated man rather than the leader of the free galaxy. "You must sense what I have come to suspect . . . the Jedi Council want control of the Republic." He paused for dramatic effect. "They're planning to betray me."

Anakin had no response ready for this. Yes, he considered the Council to be hiding more than they let on, but control of the Republic? That seemed far too serious an accusation to make. Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon and the others might be incompetent and jealous, but power-hungry? He found this hard to believe. "I don't think …" he began.

"Anakin," the Chancellor interrupted, his voice sounding condescending. "Search your feelings. You know, don't you?"

"I know they don't trust you."

Palpatine smiled sardonically. "Or the Senate … or the Republic … or democracy for that matter."

"What makes you say this?" Anakin asked.

"I have had my suspicions for some time. I have noted everything from their reluctance to report to me to their doctorate, which preaches not to trust any wisdom but that of the Force. In other words, their own. Anakin, if we cannot trust political leadership, the galaxy will fall into anarchy. I believe this is what the Jedi Council desires. In the resulting vacuum, they could spread their influence unopposed. I know that deep down, perhaps even unconsciously, you have these suspicions as well."

As much as Anakin hated to admit it, it was true. His ponderings of the Jedi Council's ulterior motives had taken him in this direction before. But he had always dismissed them as ludicrous. Even now, he was not buying what the Chancellor was saying.

"I have to admit that my trust in them has been shaken," he said, to gauge Palpatine's reaction.

The Chancellor pounced on the apparent opening. "Why? They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn't they?" Anakin said nothing.

Palpatine sighed. "They asked you to spy on me, didn't they?"

Bantha spit. So Palpatine knew. No lie was going to get him out of this one. He had blown the Council's assignment before it had really begun. Not that bothered him unduly, but he knew that Obi-Wan would be disappointed. Or would he?

"I don't know ... I don't know what to say," he muttered, embarrassed. Palpatine was going to evict him now, he was sure of it. He would not want a pawn of the Jedi Council in his confidence.

To his surprise, Palpatine did nothing of the sort. Instead, he smiled in what was clearly supposed to be a reassuring manner. "Remember back to your early teachings, Anakin. All those who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi."

"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said defensively.

That small smile was still on Palpatine's lips. It seemed to be twisting his face, making it as contorted as the words that were spilling out of his mouth. "Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power. The difference between the two is the Sith are not afraid of the dark side of the Force. That is why they are more powerful."

_This can't be Palpatine talking,_ Anakin thought. _Sidious must have even more influence over him than I thought._

"The Sith rely on their passion for their strength," Anakin countered. "They think inward, only about themselves."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. "And the Jedi don't?"

Anakin turned his head away. "The Jedi are selfless . . . they only care about others." But his confidence slipped a notch. Self-preservation and arrogance were increasing traits among the Jedi … including himself, he admitted reluctantly.

An inscrutable smile crept across Palpatine's face.

"Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plaugeis 'the Wise'?" he asked, conversationally.

Anakin looked at him, confused. "No."

"I thought not," muttered Palpatine. "It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create …" he paused, scanning Anakin's face carefully, " life."

Anakin gave no outward sign of emotion, but his heart skipped a beat. Palpatine continued, "He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying."

Anakin felt his breath quicken. "He could actually save people from death?"

Palpatine's look became distant. "The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

The statement set off warning bells in Anakin's head, but he ignored them. He was far too intent on hearing the rest of Palpatine's story. "What happened to him?"

"He became so powerful . . . the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep." A ghost of a smile flitted across Palpatine's lips. "Plagueis never saw it coming. It's ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself."

The vision pulsing through his mind, Anakin asked, "Is it possible to learn this power?"

Palpatine spoke slowly. "Not from a Jedi."

An eruption of clapping broke the silence that greeted his words. The act had ended. Anakin stood up to leave the box, his head spinning. "Good night, Chancellor."

Palpatine did not look at him, but stared out at the emptying theater. "Think about what I've said, Anakin. I have worked for peace and democracy for decades and I cannot watch it disappear without a fight. I wish things were different, but I have to do what is best for the Republic. Imagine that you were in my place. How far would you go to save the thing that mattered the most to you?"

Anakin left without speaking. It was a question for which he already knew the answer.

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Obi-Wan sat in a secluded corner of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He had been there for hours, meditating. Or rather, trying to meditate. He could not remember a time when he had ever been less relaxed.

His mind was still whirling at a thousand kilometers an hour. No coherent thoughts were registering for more than a split second. Instead, he was immersed in a sea of emotions; confusion, euphoria, shock, anger, worry, and possibly … could it be … love? Desire? Lust? He couldn't quite place it.

The last time he thought had felt such an emotion, he had been twelve years old. Siri Tachi had brushed against him as they left the sparring room, and the smile she flashed at him had made him go weak at the knees and stumble, nearly crashing into Master Koon.

Siri had occupied his thoughts for months after that. Every time he passed her, she would smile at him and he would lose control of himself and bump into something. Usually something breakable. More than once he had been pulled aside and lectured by various Masters on the virtues of keeping his mind on the present. In one such conversation with Yoda, he was sure that the old Master knew of his infatuation with Siri, he had certainly kept a closer watch on the pair of them after that.

But after he was apprenticed to Qui-Gon, the feeling had faded, and though it had flared up again when he and Qui-Gon were assigned to work with Siri and her Master, Adi Gallia, he had learned enough self-control to bury it. He dismissed it as a childish crush, and from then on threw himself into the Jedi principles, making them his sole focus in life and building his reputation as 'the perfect Jedi'. Until now.

This was different. Much different. The emotion he was feeling now could not be buried, not matter how great his self-control. It could not be isolated, rationalized, and dismissed, as he could do with any other emotion. It was so much a part of him that he could not even distinguish it from his sense of self. It didn't help that his lips were still burning were Sabé had touched them, or that the lingering scent of her perfume was still clinging to his clothes. Detach this emotion? He could just as easily detach his arm.

Vaguely, he wondered what had happened to him. He barely knew Sabé, or at least as he thought he should to be feeling this way. A few hours ago, he had been in perfect control of himself. Now, he was having trouble forming a rational thought. If Anakin found him in this state, he'd never hear the end of it.

With a titanic effort of will, he managed to drag his thoughts onto something else; why Anakin had been called to a private meeting with the Chancellor. Something in Obi-Wan's gut told him that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Anakin had no idea just how deep he was being pulled.

Obi-Wan had never liked Chancellor Palpatine. While he respected the man as a strong leader and a brilliant politician, there was something about him that always made his stomach crawl. Outwardly, there was nothing to support this impression. Palpatine appeared to have nothing but the best interests of the Republic at heart. But observing how skilled Palpatine was at playing the Senators (and everyone else for that matter), Obi-Wan got uneasy. No one that brilliant could possibly be so straightforward. Palpatine reminded him infallibly of a large spider, carefully pulling the strings of its web to bring its trapped victims closer.

Anakin sensed none of this. Palpatine had showered him with attention and praise almost from the moment he had first become a Padawan, and the young boy had adopted him as a second father figure, a feeling that had persisted until their excursion on the _Invisible Hand_. While Obi-Wan was delighted to see that Anakin was now looking at Palpatine in a new light, Anakin had not distanced himself enough from the man, and Obi-Wan feared that he was now to close to the center of the spider's web to be easily extracted.

The Jedi Council sensed that Palpatine could no longer be trusted, but that was the limit of their perceptions. They saw him as the enemy of democracy, and enemy of the Republic. Since they were not officially connected to the Republic, they were immune from his grasp. Yet somehow Palpatine had managed to bring them under his jurisdiction. It was just the first step. Soon, the entire Jedi Order was going to be entangled in his web, where a quick jab of venom would cause it to sicken and die.

_Palpatine is not just the enemy of democracy. He is the enemy of the Jedi, and of the Republic itself._

Obi-Wan found this idea to be appalling. There was nothing he despised more than being controlled and used to an end. He would rather fight to the death, because it was more in his nature. Though he loved peace and the Council thought him a mediator, they were wrong.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been a fighter. He was a good fighter, and he _enjoyed_ it. From the moment he had begun his Jedi training, he had battled his aggressive feelings. They had nearly cost him the chance to be a Padawan, but over the years he had learned to suppress them. Except when he fought. Then, a little of his old self would emerge. In controlled amounts, this surge of aggression gave him the edge he needed to win difficult battles. But it was dangerous. After Qui-Gon's death, the outpouring of anger he had felt had compelled him to switch his fighting style from Ataro to the more defensive Soresu to help keep himself from succumbing to a dark desire to hurt, to inflict his suffering upon others. But he had never completely managed the transition. He had never completely mastered himself.

Other Jedi held such feelings. Master Windu's fighting style required that he indulge his darker side. Anakin, of course, was a maelstrom of emotion; a time bomb just waiting to go off. But they acknowledged their darkness, they did not try to bury it, as Obi-Wan did. So while they were looked at with more caution, they were also more open.

That made Obi-Wan all the more dangerous.

The Council had no idea, Obi-Wan thought savagely. To them, he was the perfect little Jedi, the model they could parade around. 'The Negotiator', saving thousands of worlds without lifting his sword. The anti-Anakin, in a sense. The Hero Without Fear was the people's hero, the one who gave them the glorious victories that they could celebrate and exalt for months. And while Obi-Wan was just as famous and revered as Anakin, he was also quieter, less obtrusive, and much more inclined to avoid the spotlight than seek it out. That was the right way, in the Council's opinion. So rather than measuring the Chosen One against the other Jedi who not performed nearly as much service as Anakin, they held him against Obi-Wan. Thus, Anakin was characterized as an arrogant hothead, far too reckless and dangerous to be worthy of the same respect bestowed on his former master. Yet if the Council would ever open their eyes, they would find that said former master would not be as perfect as they thought; that he shared many of the same troubles as his former Padawan. Brothers indeed.

His thoughts drifted back to Sabé. Had it really been nearly a day since he'd seen her? It felt like he had never left; that part of him was still in that training room, lost her tight embrace. He wanted to hold on to that, never let go …

Now he was going crazy. They were in a war; it was not the time to be developing personal attachments. And the Council would never approve. If they knew just how far under the spell he was already, they would boot him out of the Order for sure.

_What if I don't care?_

_Get a grip!_ Of course he cared! He'd been a Jedi for 30 years. It was all he knew. His comrades in the Order needed him! Especially Anakin. He could not go without guidance at this crucial stage, and Obi-Wan was the only person he'd listen to. It could destroy the Jedi and the Republic if started being selfish now. No, he must put aside all other concerns now. It was his duty as a Jedi, as a mentor, and as a servant of the Republic.

But the voice in his head would not go away.

Obi-Wan sighed. First Anakin, now Sabé. He was becoming dangerously attached again, and it could pull him and all he cared about to his downfall.

For a moment, his mind flashed again to the image of the giant spider sitting at the center of it's web, slowly pulling its victims in, close enough for the killing strike. The spider with Palpatine's face.

Obi-Wan shook his head fiercely. _I won't let it happen. I won't! Even if it costs me my life._

It was his duty. Both as a soldier and a Jedi.

Standing up, Obi-Wan left the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The other Masters were calling him. It was time for a Council meeting.


	9. An Unexpected Ally

I hope to post two chapters this weekend. Here's the first one, at least. Thank you for reviewing **Ryuuko1**, **funyun**, **Jedi Master Arie Skywalker**, and **i luv ewansmile**! Your comments are truly appreciated.**

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**Chapter 9**

Sabé Naberrie hurried through the corridors of the Senate Office Building, a plain envelope clutched in her hand and her face flushed. To any casual passerby, it would seem as though she were simply in a hurry to reach her destination, but the pink tinge on Sabé's face had nothing to do with physical exertion. It had rather more to do with the mental exertion of keeping her thoughts off of a certain Jedi Master.

For the past standard day, she had been lost in a kind of blissful stupor. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who had captured her heart thirteen years ago and never let it go, was back in her life. And he had kissed her. _He_, a universally revered Jedi Master and war hero, had kissed _her_, a poor peasant girl-turned-handmaiden from an obscure Mid-Rim world. While she had been dreaming about it for over a decade, it could not compare to the real thing. She had felt wanted, she had felt happy, and she had felt _complete_. And oh had it felt good!

Naturally, Padmé had begun to get suspicious of her behavior. She was quite possibly the hardest woman in the galaxy to fool. So, Sabé had taken the first opportunity to get out of the apartment and away from Padmé's piercing gaze. The first opportunity had been a courier mission to Senator Organa's office. Padmé had given her the envelope and told her that she was to deliver it only to Senator Organa, that she was not to look inside, and that she was to answer no questions that anyone directed at her about it. Sabé had agreed, of course, but was a little upset that Padmé did not trust her with whatever information was enclosed in the envelope. Padmé had picked up on this too, and had reassured her that she would explain everything when Sabé returned.

Padmé had also seemed to be extremely content when Sabé had greeted her that morning, and Sabé was willing to bet a million credits that it had something to do with a certain tall, blond Jedi with an artificial hand had a mischievous grin that she had encountered leaving the apartment the previous morning. Anakin had greeted her with a bow and a quick pinch on the cheek for which Sabé had given him a playful slap on the back of the head. She could not think of a more perfect match for her best friend than Anakin, whom she had come to love as a brother. Whenever Sabé saw Anakin and Padmé together, she could see that there was no hint of discord in their relationship, but only the pure, unconditional love of two people who had given themselves entirely to each other, consequences be damned. She knew deep down that that was exactly what she herself wanted.

But would Obi-Wan want that? He was a much more rigid follower of the Jedi Code than Anakin; he would not be as willing to risk everything just to be with her. There was a good chance that he would break off contact with her after what had happened two days ago, that he would turn his back on her and leave her stranded in cold darkness without light or warmth to guide her. She must not get her hopes up; she would only end up having them crushed. But hadn't she paid enough already? Didn't she deserve a little happiness in her own life?

She was failing miserably in the whole point of her excursion, which was to clear her head and deliver the important envelope to Senator Organa. Fighting back tears, she wrenched her mind into an empty state and pressed on.

She arrived in Senator Organa's office five minutes later, and was directed to the reception room. A tired-looking Twi'lek receptionist whose bright purple skin had faded to a pale mauve directed her to a chair and told her that the Senator would see her in just a few minutes.

To pass the time, Sabé looked around. There were three other beings in the waiting room. One was an irritated looking Bothan dressed in some kind of fancy uniform, who was flattening his face fur repeatedly, a gesture that Sabé knew to mean that his frustration was about to boil over. Hastily, she edged her chair away.

The second visitor was a haughty looking human woman was surveying the other occupants with a kind of placid contempt. Sabé took her to be an upper aristocrat, dumb as a block of ferrocrete and considerably more stubborn. If his first two visitors were anything to go by, Senator Organa was not going to have a very pleasant day.

The room's final occupant was wearing a dark cowl over his head, and was intently surveying a packet of documents from a black briefcase at his feet. His face was so obscured that Sabé could not even tell if he was human, though his skin seemed to have a bluish tinge.

The receptionist rang a bell, and the Bothan disappeared into the Senator's office. Sabé heard raised voices almost immediately, and a few minutes later, the Bothan emerged looking enraged. Sabé heard something crash to the floor as he disappeared into the hallway. The Bothan must have taken out his frustration on a potted plant.

The aristocratic woman was called next. She got up and entered the office with the receptionist, leaving Sabé alone with the man in the hood. He was scanning his papers even more intently now, and seemed to be typing something onto a datapad as well. Clearly he was not interested in conversation.

The woman reappeared two minutes later and disappeared without a word. The receptionist emerged as well and told Sabé it was her turn.

"What about him?" Sabé asked, indicating the stranger.

The Twi'lek twitched her headtails and told Sabé that the man was not here to see the Senator, but merely awaiting conformation of a submitted document. Without further ado, Sabé entered the office.

Senator Bail Organa looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a large mug of stimcaf on his desk. Clearly he had been working long into the night. He looked up as Sabé entered and smiled.

"Ah, Sabé, how are you? What brings you here?"

"Never mind me for a second. How are you? You look like you're about to fall asleep on your desk!"

Bail smiled wearily. "You're right. I've been distracted recently, with my wife's health and … other matters. I've been letting the bureaucratic duties slide, and I'm trying to catch up. Not an enjoyable experience, I assure you. They're all idiotic rich snobs with far more money than common sense and the preconceived notion that the Senate should revolve around their needs and no one else's. But enough of that. You didn't come here to have me bore you to death. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Sabé produced the envelope. "Senator Amidala requested that this be delivered to you."

All traces of weariness vanished from Bail's face instantly. He quickly took the envelope and opened it. Unfortunately, he positioned himself in such a manner that Sabé could not discern what was written on the enclosed documents. After a few minutes Bail looked up. He appeared to be exhilarated, as though he had been given an infusion of energy.

"I have eagerly been awaiting this," he informed Sabé. "I requested that Padmé do me a favor by designing the framework for an important group that we are trying to bring into fruition. She has not let me down; this is in fact better than I could have hoped for."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sabé said, "But if I may ask, Senator, what exactly are you talking about?"

Bail regarded her thoughtfully. "You have a right to know, but I think Padmé should be the one to tell you. I believe you are trustworthy, but unfortunately I do not have such confidence in certain members of my own staff. It would be too dangerous to reveal such information here, where other less friendly ears may be listening."

Sabé nodded, her gaze sweeping the room as she did so. "I understand."

Bail produced a small envelope from a drawer and handed it to Sabé. "Please take this back to Padmé as quickly as you can. Once it is safely in her hands, tell her that I think it's safe to tell you everything."

Sabé took the envelope. Judging from the feel of it, it contained something small, flat, and hard, as well as a folded sheet of flimiplast. It was small enough to be concealed in the palm of her hand.

She bowed. "Give my regards to your wife."

Bail smiled gratefully. "I shall. Goodbye, Sabé."

Sabé swept quickly from the office and out into the visiting room. Only the receptionist was visible; the cloaked stranger was nowhere to be seen. He must have gotten the conformation he needed.

Sabé exited the office and hurried down the corridor at a fast pace. She wanted to get back to Padmé as quickly as possible to deliver the envelope and find out the truth. What was this important matter that Padmé was keeping from her, and why was there such a great need for secrecy?

She turned the corner at lighting speed, only to find her momentum arrested as she collided head on with something. The being she had plowed into gasped and toppled over, the papers it was carrying flying everywhere.

Sabé had been knocked over as well, but she quickly regained her feet and rushed over to the downed figure to help him up. Grabbing a gloved hand, she pulled him to his feet.  
She found herself staring into a pair of thick black goggles, which covered a substantial portion of the man's face. He was tall, wearing a dark cloak pulled over his head, and up close, it was obvious that the skin on his face that was not obscured by the goggles had a bluish tinge to it. He wasn't human. It was the stranger from Senator Organa's office.

"I'm … I'm sorry," Sabé stammered, embarrassed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," the stranger's voice was a smooth tenor, perfectly controlled and expressing little emotion. "I apologize for my clumsiness. I should have paid attention to where I was going."

"I'm the one who crashed into _you_, I'm the one who should be apologizing," Sabé muttered, aware that her face was flaming red. Would she ever learn?

"I see. Well, no harm done."

The stranger stooped to begin picking up his scattered papers. In a horrible second, Sabé realized that she was no longer holding the envelope Senator Organa had given her. She had dropped it in the crash. Now it was likely buried somewhere in the piles of papers littering the hall. Hastily, she dropped to her knees and began to gather the documents. "Let me help you with that."

"That won't be necessary," the stranger said coolly.

"I insist," Sabé said, scooping up more papers and hastily rifling through them. No envelope. Where could it be? It had to be here somewhere!

She turned around to hand the cloaked man a stack of papers when she noticed that he was not moving. He was staring, very intently, at something in his hand. Or at least, she thought he was, she couldn't be sure with those goggles. With a jolt, she recognized the thing the man was holding. The envelope!

She cleared her throat nervously. "Uh, that's mine."

The cloaked man gave no sign that he had heard her. He continued to stare at the envelope as though willing it to reveal what it contained.

Sabé marched up behind him and tapped him firmly on the shoulder. He rounded on her.

"That's mine, sir," she said firmly, indicating the envelope. "Give it to me."

For a second, she noticed his muscles tense, and was sure that he was going to refuse. But then he shrugged and coolly handed the envelope back to her. "As you wish."

She snatched it back rather more forcefully than was necessary. Those black goggles continued to point right at her, boring into her eyes and reflecting her face in the empty lenses. Sabé had a horrible feeling that this man was reading her mind.

She turned her back on him immediately and quickly disappeared down the corridor, refusing to look back. The cloaked man stared after her, completely immobile, as though he had been turned to stone.

A muffled beep broke the frozen atmosphere of the hallway, and the man looked down at a datapad concealed in his glove. Two bright red words flashed up at him: SCAN COMPLETE.

Seeming satisfied, the cloaked man stowed the datapad in his pocket. Gathering up the rest of his papers, he tucked them away also and strode away in the opposite direction as Sabé. With a flick of his cloak, he rounded a corner and disappeared, leaving behind a deserted hallway with no trace that he had ever been there.

* * *

Chancellor Palpatine sat in his office, adjusting the security built into his desk. It was quite an impressive array of buttons and switches, and the operations that they controlled even more so. A dozen security cameras mounted in concealed niches, infrared lasers and biosensors forming an invisible network around the room, and retractable rapid-fire blaster cannons hidden beneath the floor that, when triggered, would target an unwanted intruder at a rate of ten blasts a second. To name a few.

There were also the latest security encryptions to protect the Chancellor's files from hackers and sabotage. They were perfectly overlaid and counterbalanced to ensure that no one without proper security clearance could access them or break through to attempt to communicate with Palpatine without his official consent. From the moment an unauthorized attempt was made to break through, seeker programs would set to work on identifying the perpetrator, make an identification, and alert security to arrest the offender.

Unless, of course, these programs were tampered with.

Palpatine flicked a few more switches then nodded in satisfaction. The programs that were designed for his own protection were being broadcast misinformation, giving the impression that nothing was out of the ordinary. In effect, a hole had been opened in the network so that a certain agent could make his unofficial report undetected.

A face appeared in the small vidscreen on Palpatine's desk. A very striking face indeed. Brilliant red eyes glowed out of a bright blue face with high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and an arrogant expression. The man's hair was pitch black, the exact same color as the dark cloak that he wore. The alien man inclined his head respectfully and spoke in a smooth tenor. "What is your bidding, my lord?"

"Make your report," Palpatine said curtly.

The man's eyes rose to meet Palpatine's. "I waited at Senator Organa's office, as you ordered. A young woman came to deliver a package to him, just as you had predicted. I listened to their conversation using the device I implanted in Organa's office, and then left shortly before she did. I positioned myself in her intended path of travel so that contact was inevitable. When she collided with me, I grabbed the envelope the Senator had given her and scanned its contents using the sensor goggles. Both the note and the holowafer were accurately copied. After the scan was complete, I verified the woman's facial profile with our databanks, returned the package to her, and allowed her to escape, as you had wished."

"She did not suspect you?"

"She was in a great hurry, my lord. I do not think that she harbored suspicions. If she did, then there is nothing that connects you to me, and I left no trace."

Palpatine scowled. "Do not assume anything, Mirthrada. It can be a fatal mistake. Surely the commander told you that. Do you have the records of the reports?"

The alien nodded. "They should be uploading to your computer now."

Sure enough, the recorded files were waiting in Palpatine's box. The Chancellor opened the record of the holowafer and a small 3-D image of Bail Organa appeared.

"Padmé," the Senator said, "the situation is becoming more urgent. I fear it is only a matter of time before the Chancellor moves to place the Senate under his personal control. We cannot allow him to succeed, not matter what the cost. He is too powerful already. We must find a way to meet and discuss our options. Remember, keep the circle of knowledge as small as possible; the more who know, the greater the risk of a security breach. It is imperative that we are not compromised."

The image winked out. Palpatine smiled, a cold leer of triumph. He had been right. A plot was afoot. A pathetic plot to be sure, one ultimately doomed to fail, but a plot nonetheless. Senators Amidala and Organa were involved in a treasonous act against the Republic, and likely other Senators as well; it was fairly easy to figure out whom. Now that the threat had been identified, he could exterminate it at his leisure.

_Or at your pleasure_, a voice hissed in Palpatine's head. _No doubt in your mind, you will push aside prudence to play with your toys before you break them._

Palpatine ignored the voice. Now was not the time for bickering with shadows.

"What was the identification on the woman you intercepted?" he asked.

"Our databanks confirmed the woman as one Sabé Naberrie, cousin and former handmaiden of Senator Amidala."

Another hit. Dear, dear, young Padmé was getting her pretty hands quite dirty. She was going to find it very difficult to get them clean.

He turned back to the alien. "You have done well, my friend. This assignment has been concluded, but retain the surveillance on our suspects. It may yield something useful."

"Yes, my lord."

"In the meantime, go to ground. I will contact you if I need you again. And do not get caught. Keep your guard up at all times. It would be most unfortunate if anyone were to learn of our arrangement."

The alien's eyes blazed angrily. "Does my lord think so little of my capabilities?"

Palpatine's eyes narrowed. "Less of the attitude, Mirthrada. You are an exile from your clan. It is only through my good graces, and those of the commander, that you have survived this long. I daresay if the elders of the Chiss clan Nurrodo were to learn of your continued existence, they would be most eager to remedy it. Your purpose is to serve, and though you are an excellent asset, you are not irreplaceable. So do not try my patience."

For a moment, Mirthrada's red eyes blazed rebelliously, but then the glow faded and he bowed his head. "I understand, my lord."

"Goodbye, my friend." Palpatine terminated the link.

Dealing with an associate such as Mirthrada Nurrodo was a dangerous thing. The Chiss exile was intelligent, deadly, and bold. But Palpatine excelled at playing powerful people, and the tradeoff was well worth it. Mirthrada was spirited now, but he would break him eventually.

His thoughts turned back to the plot that Senators Amidala and Organa were devising to undermine him. He still did not have all the information he needed to expose them as traitors, but soon it would not matter. The rest of the Senate was in his pocket, and it would not be difficult to persuade the populace. Given their distrust of the Senate now, they would jump at the possibility of a scapegoat. Their beloved leader could do no wrong, after all.

He knew that merely having the conspirators killed, as his Sith predecessors would have, would not destroy the resistance. He needed to destroy their very ideals. These Senators believed that they were preserving the democracy of the Republic. If they were portrayed as enemies of the Republic, they and their cause would quickly be reviled. And the good-hearted Senators would not try to force the mob of people to their point of view. That was the price they paid for being 'servants of the people', rather than the Master.

Soon … soon his mastery would extend further than ever. With Kenobi and Skywalker at his side, he could take the final step, shed his tiresome disguise, and reveal himself to all. Emperor Palpatine. Conqueror of the Jedi. Lord of life and death. Master of the galaxy.

With Grievous's location revealed, the Jedi would dispatch someone to end the war. And given the enormity of the mission, there were only two possible Jedi they would consider sending. Both suited his interests perfectly. After all, Jedi were common rabble, but _heroes_ were oh so rare.

Palpatine sighed contentedly. A perfectly executed plan always gave him a sense of great invigoration. He felt he could schedule another public appearance for later today. An hour or two of waving and smiling, basking in the glory his subjects rained upon him. Of course, it was hardly necessary, but who was he to deny the mob its savior?

He was, after all, a man of the people.

* * *

On the Mid-Rim world of Kashyyyk, home of the Wookies, all was not well. For centuries, the forest planet had been the epitome of peace and harmony. With few natural resources other than the bark of the giant wrosyhr tree, the planet had been largely left to its own devices to prosper. The fact that it was located in such an important quadrant was merely an interesting peace of trivia.

One of a million things changed by the first war the current Republic had ever known.

Jedi Master Yoda sat on a large platform resting in the branches of an enormous wrosyhr tree. A Wookie general and a clone commander stood respectfully behind him. Far below, thousands of soldiers rushed about, making last minute preparations for the imminent Separatist attack. There were still things that needed to be discussed, but neither soldier would dream about interrupting Yoda during the middle of a Council meeting.

Yoda leaned forward, studying the holoprojector intently. A representation of the Council chamber on Coruscant displayed Jedi seated all around the circumference of the room. They gazed intently at Master Windu, waiting for him to open the discussion.

Mace spoke, "This Council meeting has been called to present some crucial new information that may help us end the war." He turned his head toward the Council's newest and youngest member. "Anakin?"

Anakin straightened in his chair and took a deep breath. "Republic Army Intelligence has verified General Grievous hiding in the Utapau system."

Surprised exclamations erupted from several Council members. Agen Kolar quickly rounded on Anakin. "How do we know this report is accurate?"

Anakin grimaced at the acidity in Kolar's tone. He had expected this question, as pointless as it was. "A partial message was intercepted in a diplomatic packet from the Chairman of Utapau."

Yoda stoked his chin thoughtfully. That meant it was extremely unlikely the information had been tampered with. Even if it had been, it was far too important to ignore, especially at this crucial stage.

"Act on this, we must. The capture of Grievous will end this war. Quickly and decisively, we should proceed."

Anakin was relieved. No one was going to argue with Yoda. They could skip the useless debating and act as quickly as possible. Obi-Wan looked equally pleased, as though this were the best news he had heard all day. Shaak Ti and Master Windu looked satisfied as well. The rest of the Council, however, was shaking their heads or frowning disapprovingly, though they did not dare to speak their doubts aloud.

Anakin spoke carefully. "The Chancellor has requested that I lead the campaign."

As uneasy as he had been about the way Palpatine had suggested this, he knew that he was the best choice. He had fought Grievous before, and knew the space around the Utapau system well. Should Grievous flee, he would be able to track him efficiently.

"That would be a good arrangement," Shaak Ti said. "Anakin is one of our most accomplished commanders. I believe that he could dispatch Grievous."

"But his mission is here with the Chancellor!" Pablo-Jill spoke vehemently. "He is already designated for assignment! And is he really the best choice? Young Skywalker has proved himself to be reckless many times. On an operation of this delicacy, can he be trusted to come through? Can he restrain his obvious aggressive tendencies?"

If looks could kill, Pablo-Jill would be a smoking pile of ash at that moment. Anakin's blue eyes were burning with rage at the Jedi Master's statement. Young Skywalker, was he? Reckless? Not to be trusted? This was open insult. Pablo-Jill was not only doubting Anakin's skills and judgement, he was doubting him as a Jedi. A rush of hatred swept through him. He had to restrain himself from getting up and rearranging Pablo-Jill's face. Of course, since the fish's mouth was already higher than his eyes, there wasn't much more he could do …

Pablo-Jill continued. "Regardless of his military prowess, there are many other qualified candidates …"

"Master Jill," a quiet, controlled voice halted the other's tirade. While the voice was calm, it carried a deadly edge that made everyone else listen. "Your ranting has no point. Anakin's moral character, which he has proved a thousand times over, is not under question here. What you are saying is completely and utterly irrelevant to the current discussion. You have, I believe, served in one campaign since the Battle of Geonosis? Therefore you are not qualified to discuss military prowess either. Unless you having something meaningful to contribute, I suggest you silence yourself, or I will do it for you."

Eleven stunned heads, both holographic and physical, turned to face Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was staring at Pablo-Jill with a deadly gleam in his eyes. He did not appear perturbed by the other Master's disbelieving glances. On the contrary, he seemed to be satisfied by their expressions. His blue eyes bored into Pablo-Jill's, making the normally composed Jedi Master squirm in his seat.

Pablo-Jill stammered, "Master Kenobi, with all due respect…"

"Enough," interjected Mace Windu. "There will be no bickering here. Anakin, thank you, but the Council will make its own decision who is to go, not the Chancellor."

Yoda looked thoughtful. "A Master is needed, with more experience."

Ki-Adi Mundi's hologram nodded. "I concur. Master Kenobi should go."

Obi-Wan did not look surprised by this nomination. Judging from the now-resigned look on his face, he had been expecting it.

"Are you sure …?" Pablo-Jill began, but stopped. The murderous look on Anakin's face made it clear that it would be better for all involved if he did not finish his sentence.

Yoda chose to ignore the would-be interruption. "I agree. Obi-Wan, my choice is."

"All in favor say aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

The sentiment was echoed around the room. Anakin stayed silent, though he nodded in assent when prompted. While he was happy for Obi-Wan, he could not suppress a hint of disappointment. In the most important mission since the beginning of the war, he was going to be a million light-years away from the action. And Obi-Wan would have no one to watch his back.

Mace nodded in satisfaction. "Very well. Council adjourned."

The eight Jedi present on Coruscant stood up and walked out of the Council chamber. Obi-Wan caught Anakin's eye and gave him a sympathetic look. Anakin smiled reassuringly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

On Kashyyyk, Yoda flicked off the holoprojector and hobbled over to the edge of the platform overlooking the battlefield. The Wookies and clone soldiers stood concealed by protective barriers, awaiting orders. Far off in the distance over the water, a rising wall of vapor marked the Separatist advance.

Clone Commander Gree knelt down next to Yoda. "All our units are in position. The droids have started up their main power generators."

Yoda nodded in resolve. "Then now the time is, Commander."

The Wookie General Tarfull bellowed his eagerness to the sky. Commander Gree quickly turned and began barking orders into his comlik.

Down on the beach, a column of Wookies met the droid advance guard with blade and claws as the clone commandos laid down a stream of covering fire. On the left flank, Jedi Knight Luminara Unduli led a small group of elite soldiers through a wall of fire as they attempted to break through the front line. Spider droids and wheel tanks emerged from beneath water, spitting fire. Gunships boldly swooped low over them; depositing brave Wookie soldiers on the droid tanks. The Wookies attached timed explosives to the tanks, then leapt off, roaring in triumph as the powerful machines were blown to scrap. The peaceful lagoon became a hellish battlefield, smothered in smoke, fire, and blood.

Yoda watched the entire scene with a grim determination. A trial, war was.

* * *

The training droid launched a ferocious salvo of laser bolts at the warm body registering on its sensors. At a rate of ten bolts per second, the organic should be finished by now. It had been that way with all of his predecessors. Yet none of the bolts got through. They were all deflected and directed harmlessly to the side, or back at the droid, rattling its internal mechanisms. And the figure was maintaining a steady advance when all of his energy should have gone into defending himself. While the droid was contemplating this paradox, a beam of supercharged energy sliced it in half.

Anakin did not spare a glance at the downed droid, choosing instead to trigger another one. The second bot came at him wielding an electric staff similar to the ones used by Grievous's MagnaGuards. It attacked ferociously. Anakin parried the strikes for a few seconds, then brought his saber down on the droid's head, sending it down to join its predecessor.

Ignoring the amazed glances of the sparring room's other occupants, Anakin activated three more droids who attacked as a tandem. While one laid down a blistering wave of covering fire and stun grenades, the other two used their swords expertly, executing perfect attacks in the Ataro style. Anakin stood form against the onslaught, while an increasing gaggle of Jedi gathered around to watch.

As he parried and slashed and dodged, Anakin's mind echoed the many criticisms he had endured over the years. He used them as fuel for the raging fire that was burning in his heart. His personal dragon, so long suppressed, had broking free and was unleashing hell on his tormented soul.

_You're too old to begin the training._

His saber moved effortlessly, deflecting twenty bolts in two seconds.

_You are reckless. You lack self-control._

He dove to the floor, somersaulted, and jumped up, driving his lightsaber into the leg joint of the sniper, destroying the servomotors.

_You cannot control your anger._

As the droid stumbled, he flipped over its head and drew his lightsaber across its neck. The head toppled to the floor.

_Your abilities have made you arrogant._

Anakin rounded on the remaining droids, his forceful strikes driving both droids back.

_You are selfish._

He kicked one droid in the chest, sending it flying across the room. He followed the kick up with a force-thrown stun grenade, blowing a fist-sized hole in the droid's casing.

_You cannot be trusted._

He parried a fresh series of slashes from the second droid; then as the downed droid attempted to rise, made an impossibly fast reversal to drive his saber into the hole in its chest, finishing it.

_You cannot control your fear … attachment is forbidden … you cannot save her, you are not strong enough … she will die …_

With a yell of defiance, the Chosen One swung at the droid with a new ferocity. Every parry the droid made was too slow, every attack too feeble. Anakin took first its legs, then its arms, and then its head. The droid fell in diced sections to the mat.

The entire training room erupted in applause, from Knights and Padawans alike. The few Masters present were more restrained, but there was obvious, if grudging, respect in their gazes. In less than three minutes, Anakin had destroyed five of the best training droids in the galaxy, and for the entire contest he had never been off-form.

Anakin noticed none of this. He was drained. The fight had not exhausted him, but having taken out all his anger on the droids, he felt empty. Sapped of his strength. He had been allowing his rage at Pablo-Jill and the rest of the Council to consume him. And Padmé …

He felt his stomach turn to ice. The vision was never far from his thoughts. It had haunted his mind evey night since he had returned to Coruscant. Padmé's beautiful face twisted in pain, then becoming peaceful as she succumbed to death and the dark, mocking figure that towered over her, brandishing a blue lightsaber. Powerful hatred, the kind he had known only once before in is life, filled him whenever he thought of the figure. He could never see its face, but he knew that if he ever did, there was nowhere in the galaxy that it would be able to hide.

Palpatine's words had not left him either. The tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise and the power to save life was glowing in his mind like an eerie light on a dark night, beckoning him closer. He knew he should be wary of it, but it sounded to good to be true. And Palpatine had always looked out for his best interests before. Why should it be different this time? Palpatine could not know about Padmé, but he was perceptive. Could he somehow sense Anakin's growing desperation?

Mace Windu watched Anakin from the doorway. The cluster of admirers around him was growing, but the young Jedi was taking no notice. He seemed to be miles away. A few minutes earlier, he had unleashed an attack of such deadly precision that Mace himself had been taken aback. The Vaapad Master knew that the attack had been fueled by a deadly rage. Now, none of that rage was present in the lost looking young man he saw now. Something was troubling Anakin deeply.

Mace moved forward, parting the crowd around Anakin. The younglings jumped back and bowed, averting their eyes. They were uneasy in the presence of the great Jedi Master. Mace smiled and patted one of them on the shoulder.

"It's all right, young ones. You have nothing to worry about. Why don't you go back to your lessons so that I can talk with Master Skywalker here."

The younglings bowed and scurried off. The older Padawans and Knights dispersed as well. Mace approached Anakin, who did not seem to have noticed his presence. "Anakin?"

Anakin jumped. When he noticed Mace standing next to him, he bowed to cover up his embarrassment. "Forgive me, Master. I was … distracted."

"I could see that," Mace smiled. "Come. Walk a little with me."

Anakin followed as Mace left the sparring room. He tried to hide his apprehension. He had not had many heart to heart discussions with the Senior Council member over the years. Usually their talks had been more along the lines of lectures. He suspected that now Master Windu wanted to discuss the reasons why they had not selected him for the Utapau assignment, and the way he had vented his contempt for Pablo-Jill.

They emerged in the vast Temple gardens, which were nearly deserted. It was very early evening, and the visible skyline showed no buildings, only light purple sky. Water trickled from a nearby fountain. Insect life buzzed quietly, and the fragrances of a dozen different flowers filled the air. It was a very peaceful scene. Exactly the opposite of how Anakin felt.

Mace stopped to gaze at the sky. "Wonderful evening, don't you think?"

Anakin looked around. "I guess so."

Mace did not shift his gaze. "It's significant in a way. Evening signals the end of a day, or of a period of time. Soon a new day, a new age, will begin. No one can tell what it may bring."

Anakin said nothing.

"Sometimes, the old day does not yield to the new," Mace said. "It rages on, refusing to go quietly into the night. At other times, it heads to its end complacently, without a struggle. Tonight is such a night."

Anakin realized where this was going. "You're talking about politics, aren't you?"

Mace smiled. "In a way, yes. I suppose I am. I find myself making such comparisons often now. I will spend hours pondering them."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "I never took you for a philosopher."

"Really? What did you take me for?"

"A warrior," Anakin said. "You're a general in the Republic Army. You're always training. You always have a very direct opinion. The philosophical Jedi speak in paradoxes and spend all their time in meditation. It's rare for them to command as much influence as you do."

"Very true," Mace said. "But no sentient being is completely one thing, whether it is light or dark, student or teacher, warrior or philosopher. We are constantly shifting shades of gray, often controlled by the situation. At the moment I am calm, and my more perceptive side is coming to the surface." He turned away from the horizon to fix his gaze on his companion. "Something is troubling you, Anakin."

Anakin dropped his eyes. "How can you tell?"

"The Force swirls within you like a storm. I can sense anger, confusion, and above all, fear. I suspect some of it is related to today's Council meeting, for which I must apologize. Master Jill should not have expressed his feelings like that. He went too far. But that is not all. Your emotions are too complex to stem only from anger at Master Jill. If you tell me, I might be able to help you."

Anakin considered Mace's offer. Part of him wanted very much to pour out his visions and his fear for Padmé's life, if only to ease the weight of the burden. But Master Windu had never offered anything like this before. While Mace was one of the few Jedi Masters Anakin genuinely respected, he did not know if he could trust him. And the risk was too great. If he told them about Padmé, they would take her and their unborn child away from him. He could not allow that to happen. Ever.

But there was something else eating at him, a topic that was not quite so sensitive. He cleared his throat. "I'm worried about Obi-Wan's mission to destroy General Grievous."

"I see," Mace said. A trace of doubt was visible on his features, but it vanished quickly. "Your former master is one of our greatest Jedi. I have no doubt that he will succeed."

"I know Obi-Wan is a brilliant warrior," said Anakin, "But on the most dangerous missions, I was always there with him. We got each other out of situations that neither one of us could have escaped on our own. And when one of us turned a corner, the other one was always there to watch their back. Now he's going to be on his own. I don't know if he can handle it."

Mace smiled. "I'm sure that if your places were reversed, he would be saying the exact same thing about you. The two of you combined form something greater than the sum of its parts, a deadly force the likes of which the galaxy has rarely seen. But even separate, you and he are strong. Do not underestimate yourself, or Obi-Wan. I have faith that both of you will do your duty well."

Anakin tried to hide his surprise. Master Windu had not expressed such confidence in him often. Ever, actually. "Thank you, Master. You're probably right. I'm just being paranoid."

"I can see that you're surprised that I'm being supportive. I know that you have not learned to expect much from the Council. You probably expected me to dismiss your concerns as foolish, and lecture on the virtues of trusting the judgment of others, is that right?"

"Well … yes."

Mace took a deep breath. "Anakin, you are marked by the prophecy of the Chosen One. According to the prophecy, you are destined to bring balance to the Force. But no one knows exactly what that means. Since the Force itself will not provide the answer, we are left to form our own speculations about what the prophecy entails. This has lead to unfair expectations being placed upon you by everyone, including me. There is no way that you could live up to all of them. And that has been more detrimental than anything else we could have done. We have given you no reason to trust us, yet we take it for granted that you should. We have wronged you, and I hope that you can forgive us."

Anakin was speechless. This was completely unlike Master Windu, and it contradicted everything he had learned to accept from Council members. He reached out with the Force, trying to discern if this was an elaborate ploy, or even if this Mace was an imposter. He detected nothing but straightforward honesty. That was perhaps even more unsettling.

"Are you speaking on behalf of the Council?" he asked warily.

Mace shook his head. "No, I am speaking for myself. I'm afraid that the rest of the Council thinks you need more firm guidance. But I am trying a different approach, speaking to you as a fellow Jedi, rather than as a Master instructing a student. I hope that this will allow us to be more open with each other, and to create an opportunity for trust and respect between us. For I do respect you, Anakin."

The words had a deep effect on Anakin, though did not allow any of it to register on his face. Obi-Wan was the only member of the Council who had ever said anything like this to him. And that was different; Obi-Wan was not a Council member to him, but a brother. You could expect such things from a brother. To hear it from someone else was like stumbling across a cool stream in the middle of a Tattooine desert after you had given up all hope of finding salvation.

"I ...don't know what to say," he said after a long silence.

"Don't say anything, if you want," Mace said. "I don't need a response. Just think about what I've said, and keep it in mind. You are marked by destiny, but that does not mean you should have to bear its weight alone."

Anakin bowed, and turned to leave the garden.

"And Anakin?"

He faced Master Windu again. The Jedi Master's face had the hint of a smile. "Very impressive display back there in the sparring room. Obi-Wan would be proud."

A small grin broke on Anakin's face. "Thank you, Master." He began to walk the long, twisting path back to the Temple.

Many things still weighed upon his mind. The stinging criticism of the Council had not yet faded, nor had his discontent about Obi-Wan's mission. The dark figure and Padmé's pained, apologetic face were still present, lurking in the back of his consciousness, waiting for an opening. But for now, they no longer threatened to crush him. His burden was now bearable.

For the first time since he had last held his wife in his arms, a feeling of calm spread through him. Maybe the entire galaxy was not against him after all.

* * *

Next post soon.


	10. Love Realized

Thank you all for reviewing? I'm happy to see that so many people liked the Mace and Anakin conversation. There will be plenty more dialouge between those two as the story progresses.

I really should have gotten this post up yesterday. Hopefully it's worth the wait.

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* * *

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**Chapter 10**

Twelve standard hours, the Commander had informed him. It was early morning now; in twelve hours the cruiser would depart for Utapau and the operation to bring General Grievous to justice would commence. Twelve hours to resolve any unfinished business here on Coruscant. A generous timetable, by most accounts. For Obi-Wan, twelve hours was not going to be nearly enough.

There were so many things to say to so many different people, and he wanted to do justice to all of them. He had never been one for long goodbyes, but on this mission there was a very real chance that he was not going to be coming back. He owed his friends at least one more chance to see him. And he had half a day to do it.

However, before he made rounds at the Temple, he had something more important to take care of. He had not heard from Anakin since the Council meeting. His friend was shielding from him. Again.

Obi-Wan sighed. He was deeply worried about Anakin, and his friend's recent behavior was not helping matters. Obviously Anakin's disgust with the Council had not been helped by Pablo-Jill's charming little speech, but it couldn't be the sole cause of Anakin's distress. He was always able to deal with his feelings against the Council. This was something far more serious.

Obi-Wan wished that he could find Anakin, sit him down, and beg him to divulge what it was that was bothering him so much. It pained him to see Anakin so burdened. He needed to help him for much his own sake as Anakin's. But his brother was far too proud to give in to a direct approach on something like this. He would have to be subtler.

And he knew just the Senator for the job.

Once again he headed out for Five Hundred Replica, gambling that Padmé would be home by now. This would kill two dune lizards with one throw, as Anakin would say. He needed to say goodbye to Padmé anyway.

_And don't forget about Sabé …_

He banished the thought. He was not going to say goodbye to Sabé. He was going to ask Padmé to give her his regards instead. While there was nothing he wanted more in the galaxy than to see her again, his duty would not allow it. If he looked into her deep brown eyes one more time, he was not going to be able to leave.

Maybe he would get lucky, and Sabé would still be asleep, or better yet, out on an errand. Then he could talk to Padmé, and get out, back to the safety of the Jedi Temple. Where she would only haunt his thoughts rather than his physical presence …

_Coward_, his darker side accused him. _Denying her is not going to make her go away. Just confront her and deal with your feelings!_

_Shut up!_ He pushed the voice away. _It's not as easy as you think._

He arrived at the landing platform and exited his speeder. He pulled his hood up as he walked the short distance to the turbolift. It was still very early, but by the ominous cloudy sky and the chill in the air, he judged it was not going to be too nice of a day. Maybe it was a good thing that he was going to get off-planet.

Obi-Wan took the turbolift to the top, then traveled the now familiar path to Padmé's apartment. He hesitated briefly, and then knocked on Padmé's door.

The door swung open, and there stood Padmé, dressed in an elaborate senatorial gown. She seemed to be surprisingly well dressed for such an early hour, and she looked nervous, as though she had been expecting someone who by rights, shouldn't have been there.

The nervousness vanished when she saw who was standing in her doorway. "Obi-Wan! What a surprise! Please come in."

Obi-Wan obliged, entering the spacious living room. He quickly looked around for any sign of Sabé. He saw none.

Not knowing whether he should be relieved or disappointed, he cast a fresh eye around the room. The first thing he noticed was that the small table in the middle of the room was already set with drinks. Obi-Wan counted seven goblets. He was right then, Padmé had been expecting someone. Several people, by the looks of it.

He indicated the glasses. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh, no," Padmé said, "A few of my colleagues are coming over later today. Nothing important, just routine Senate matters. I'll put these away, they won't be here for a while."

She scooped up the glasses and carried them into the kitchen. Obi-Wan looked around the room for anything else odd. Padmé was one of the most trustworthy and honorable people he knew, but she was not letting on as much as there was to tell.

Padmé reappeared at the doorway. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you," Obi-Wan smiled. "I won't be long. I just need to discuss something with you."

Padmé nodded in consent and indicated one of the couches. "Please sit down."

Obi-Wan sat down on the indicated couch. Padmé sat down next to him. "What do you want to discuss, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan considered for a moment how best to begin. Something he should have decided in the speeder, but it was too late now.

"Has Anakin been to see you?" he asked casually.

A faint smile made its way onto Padmé's lips. "Several times. I was so happy to hear that he was accepted on the Jedi Council."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "I know … he really deserves it. He is impatient, strong willed, very opinionated, but truly gifted."

Padmé laughed. Obi-Wan joined in. It felt good to be here, away from the weighty deliberative atmosphere of the Council room, where he could let himself feel relaxed and alive. He hadn't laughed since the last time he had seen Sabé.

After a minute, Padmé regained control. She had a knowing look on her face now. "You're not just here to say hello. Something is wrong, isn't it?"

Force, this woman was perceptive! She had cracked his carefully practiced casual façade with very little effort. It was a pity Padmé couldn't touch the Force, she would be on the Council in a week.

"You should be a Jedi, Padmé," he said, grinning.

She returned the grin. "You're not very good a hiding your feelings."

Ouch. Anakin had been a worse influence on him than he had thought.

He decided to say it straight out. "It's Anakin . . . He's becoming moody and detached. He's been put in a difficult position as the Chancellor's representative . . . but I think it's more than that. I was hoping he may have talked to you."

Padmé's friendly expression immediately became guarded. "Why would he talk to me about his work?"

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to be in the know. He carefully gazed at Padmé's face. Practiced politician look or not, she was hiding something.

"Neither of you is very good at hiding your feelings for each other."

Padmé's brown eyes flashed. "Don't give me that look."

Obi-Wan pressed on. "I know how he feels about you."

There was a crack in Padmé's guard now. She was nervous, he could tell. "What has he told you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing. He didn't have to."

Padmé looked taken aback. She tore her gaze away from Obi-Wan and got up quickly, heading out onto the balcony overlooking Coruscant. Obi-Wan followed her. She did not look at him, but stared out at the waking city. He voice was flustered, and it shook.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Obi-Wan's tone became stern. "Don't give me that, Padmé. I know you both too well. I can see that you two are in love."

Padmé looked down. Her delicate shoulders slumped in defeat. She did not answer him.

"Padmé," Obi-Wan entreated. "Am I right? Do you love him?"

Padmé did not speak for a moment. Then she nodded.

"Yes," she said softly. "More than life."

Even though he had expected this, the words were still surprising to Obi-Wan. There was no reservation here. Anakin and Padmé were not infatuated; they were truly, deeply, in love with each other. He tried to restrain any emotion, but he had to work hard to blink back a tear.

How must it be for them, to live their lives in constant fear that their love would be discovered, and that they would be separated? No wonder Padmé had been reluctant to speak, she probably expected him to sweep out right now and inform the Council, so that they could take Anakin away from her. He had thought the idea wrong, but now it was criminal.

There was still the Code to consider, though. Anakin would be in very deep trouble if discovered, but he could be saved. As long as Anakin and Padmé had the sense to keep their relationship unconditional …

One thing was certain. After what he had just heard, he was never, ever, going to tell the Council about this.

He finally spoke. "Padmé, that makes what I'm about to say all the more important. I'm worried about Anakin. I came to ask for your help."

Padmé said nothing, but Obi-Wan detected a slight tensing of her muscles as she gripped the edge of the balcony.

He pressed on. "I fear your relationship has confused him. He's changed considerably since we returned . . . and he is confused, distracted. Something very serious is bothering him, something that has nothing to do with his recent appointment to the Council. But I don't know what it is. He's been blocking me out."

He walked to the edge of the balcony next to Padmé. She glanced briefly up at him and then returned her gaze to the horizon. She looked very sad.

"Padmé," he reassured her, "I'm not telling the Council about any of this. I ... I hope I didn't upset you. We're all friends; I care about both of you . . ."

A smile appeared on Padmé's face. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

He turned to leave. "Please do what you can to help him."

She turned her back on the city and walked with him into the living room. "I will."

At the doorway Obi-Wan took a deep breath and turned around. "I don't know if Anakin told you, but I'm leaving on a mission today. I've been sent by the Council to apprehend General Grievous in the Utapau system. I have no idea how long I'll be gone, so I wanted to say goodbye to you before I left."

Padmé smiled. "That means a lot, Obi-Wan. For the sake of the Republic and your own, I hope that you succeed and make it back safely. My prayers go with you."

Obi-Wan extended his hand, but Padmé ignored it and pulled him into a friendly embrace. Obi-Wan returned it awkwardly.

When she released him, he turned and headed down the corridor, but stopped and faced Padmé again. He spoke so softly that Padmé was not sure if he had meant her to hear it.

"Don't tell Sabé."

It was such a strange request that Padmé was about to call him back and question him, but before she could open her mouth, Obi-Wan had turned again and hurried away down the corridor.

* * *

Obi-Wan moved briskly through the corridors of the top level at a pace that was almost a run. He had done what he had meant to do; there was no reason to linger. He had not seen Sabé, but that was a good thing. Wasn't it?

He rounded a corner saw the turbolift, fifty meters away. He increased his pace. All he had to do was reach it, and he would be on his way. Safe.

Forty five … forty … thirty …twenty five… twenty …

"Obi-Wan?"

He stopped.

There was Sabé, standing right behind him, having just emerged from a door on his left. To his dismay, the first thing Obi-Wan noticed that her hood was down and her long, brown hair was unbraided falling almost to her waist. Her handmaiden dress was made of a thin material that allowed him to see every curve …

He broke into a cold sweat. Why hadn't he moved faster? He could have avoided this.

Sabé took a step closer and Obi-Wan took an involuntary step back. She stopped her advance, looking confused and slightly hurt.

"Where are you going?"

Obi-Wan mumbled something about saying goodbye to Padmé. He immediately regretted the words and cast his eyes about for an escape route.

Sabé's brown eyes narrowed. "Goodbye? Are you going somewhere?"

Obi-Wan's muttered response included something about a 'Council mission', 'very important', and 'leaving today'.

"Today?" Sabé asked, looking shocked. "You're leaving today? Were you planning on saying goodbye before you left?"

Obi-Wan was quite appalled at his sudden lack of ability to form a coherent sentence. In an attempt to give the impression that he was not as uncomfortable as he was, he blurted out the first thing that entered his head.

"You?" he asked causally. "Why would I need to say goodbye to you?"

He regretted his words the nanosecond they were out of his mouth. It was the worst thing he could have said. Sabé's beautiful eyes filled with tears and her face conveyed undeniable shock and hurt. She turned away from him and ran through the open door.

"Sabé!" Obi-Wan called after her.

The door began to slide shut.

He hesitated. He could go now, his rational side told him. He could leave Five Hundred Replica, head for the ship. He could put Sabé out of his mind, before he got in too deep…

The rest of him had a rather different opinion.

_NO! YOU'RE NOT LETTING HER GET AWAY THAT EASILY!_

Obi-Wan sprinted to the closing door and grabbed it. It continued to slide. Using the Force, he threw it open and entered her apartment.

Sabé was sitting on the couch, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs. She did not look up when he entered, or when he knelt right in front of her. It shattered Obi-Wan's heart to see her so broken.

"Sabé," he pleaded. "Look at me."

She ignored him. Or maybe she didn't even hear him. He took her hands in his. "Sabé, please."

She finally looked up. Her cheeks her wet with tears, and her eyes were slightly puffy. The pain in her eyes was almost a physical wound to Obi-Wan.

"Sabé, I didn't mean that."

Pulling her hands away from him, she got up and stood over him, anger blazing in her pain-filled eyes.

"Didn't mean it?" She cried. "I suppose you didn't mean to talk to me when you first arrived! I suppose you didn't mean to kiss me! I suppose you _didn't mean_ to try and avoid me, to try and sneak off on a dangerous mission to some God-forsaken corner of the galaxy without even saying _goodbye_!"

She stormed away from him to the window. Obi-Wan got up and followed her. Her words had cut him deeply, but he did not blame her. He had deserved it. Every word.

"Sabé," he said tentatively.

She didn't look at him. "I guess it was too much to hope for. I should never have wasted all those years, hoping. Hoping for even the slightest sign that you might feel the same way about me that I do about you. That you might love me."

Obi-Wan had endured a great many shocks in his life. But none could compare to this. How could he not have known? How could he not have seen it? He had noticed her shyness around him during their tour of duty on Naboo, but he had dismissed it as a crush, an infatuation that would pass. As a Jedi, he was obligated to keep himself detached, so he had been friendly with her, but never given her the slightest opportunity to declare her affections. Love?

He realized now how agonizing it must have been for Sabé to be around him, when he was so dismissive of her. He had caused so much pain to this incredible, beautiful woman in front of him, and now he was hurting her again.

She looked at him now with pleading eyes and it occurred to him that to endure all of that, Sabé had to be one of the strongest women he had ever met. But she shouldn't have to be. She deserved to be held, to be comforted, and to be loved. And as he watched her now, he knew he couldn't deny it anymore.

He loved her too.

He moved up beside her, and pulled her into his arms. For a moment she tensed, as though she was going to resist. Then she melted into his embrace, crying into his shoulder. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and rested his head on hers. If the entire Jedi Council had walked in right now, he would not have noticed, nor would he have cared.

"Shhhh," he whispered. "It's alright. I'm here now. And I'm not letting you go."

Sabé looked up, smiling through her tears. It occurred in a flash to Obi-Wan that even though her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was disheveled and out of place, she was still by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Maybe angels did exist.

She spoke tentatively. "Are you sure? You won't leave me alone? Ever?"

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "Yes, I'm sure. Never, Sabé."

The smile she gave him was more radiant, more alive, than he had ever seen. Obi-Wan immediately felt his knees go weak and was sure he was going to fall over. But he didn't have to worry about that for much longer because Sabé held him even tighter and kissed him so passionately that Obi-Wan forgot to worry about anything.

He had thought that the kiss in the training room had been intense. But that had been fast paced, as well as tentative. The way Sabé was kissing him now was much slower and more deliberate. He returned it, and she moaned slightly and pressed up even closer.

Slower was definitely better.

He was barely aware that they were both moving into the bedroom, so absorbed was he in Sabé. His legs and hers seemed to move of their own accord. Sabé's hands were running all over his body, and his were just as active. He fell on top of her onto the mattress.

A very slight whisper in his head warned him that this was his last chance to turn back, before it was too late. Before he could not go back. Before he lost himself completely.

He shut the whisper out.

Forgetting any reservations he may have had, he gave all his attention over to Sabé. The Jedi Master and the Senator's handmaiden fell into a world of love and ecstasy in which no bonds, real or imagined, could hold them.

* * *

Padmé Amidala's apartment was far more crowded than usual. For the vast majority of the time, it was just her, along with Ellé and Moteé. Sabé had her own apartment down the hall. Sometimes Anakin would find enough time between missions to come and stay there, and occasionally Padmé would host a close friend or respected associate. This was markedly different.

Six other Senators were gathered in her sitting room. Bail Organa and Mon Mothma were unquestionably in charge of the meeting, along with Padmé herself. The other four Senators were Bana Breemu, Fang Zar, Chi Eekway, and Giddean Danu. They were animatedly debating recent events in the Senate, as well as discussing the plans that Padmé and Bail had exchanged. Ordinarily, a Senator's apartment would not be the ideal place for this sort of talk, as it was likely to be watched. But they could not agree on a safer place, and Artoo had done such an excellent job in securing the room that Padmé was quite confident there was no way they would be overheard.

As Threepio made rounds with drinks, Padmé spoke up.

"No matter what else happens, we cannot let this turn into another war."

Bail nodded in wholehearted agreement. "Absolutely. That is the last thing we want."

"We are hoping to form an alliance in the Senate to stop the Chancellor from further subverting the constitution," Mon Mothma said. "That's all."

Padmé took a deep breath. She had been a little shaky since Obi-Wan's visit, but now her composure was returning, and she had been giving this manner of secrecy a great deal of thought. Their coalition was too fragile, and they needed more support. While she had already told Sabé, she felt they needed another opinion on the matter, one that was not influenced by the political atmosphere, and could give them a more accurate read on the Chancellor.

"I know a Jedi I feel it would be wise to consult," she stated.

Banu Breemu looked doubtful. "That would be dangerous."

"We don't know where the Jedi stand in all this," said Mon Mothma.

Padmé tried to reassure them. "I only wish to discuss this with one . . . one I trust."

Giddean Danu looked thoughtful. "Going against the Chancellor without the support of the Jedi is risky."

Padmé pressed her opportunity. "The Jedi aren't any happier with the situation than we are . . ."

Chi Eekway shook her head. "Patience, Senator."

Padmé gritted her teeth. She was sick of being patient. This secrecy rule was becoming far more trouble than it was worth. She knew that Anakin would never compromise her, unintentionally or not, and she was desperate for some other kind of council, testimony that was not tempered by wariness.

Fang Zar continued, oblivious to Padmé's discontent. "We have so many Senators on our side, surely that will persuade the Chancellor."

Banu Breemu agreed. "We have worked hard, polling the other Senators. When you present the "petition of the two thousand" to the Chancellor, things may change."

The petition of two thousand. Two thousand signatures of Senators asking Chancellor Palpatine to relinquish his emergency powers. It certainly sounded formidable. Even as powerful as Palpatine was, he could not idly lose the support of two thousand senators. But Palpatine had never caved into the kind of pressure before.

Bail Organa nodded with finality. "Let us see what we can accomplish in the Senate, before we include the Jedi."

All the other senators agreed. Padmé let out a deep sigh of frustration and disappointment. She was being too harsh. She knew the other senators had the best interests of the coalition at heart, and that they were well within their rights to be hesitant of bringing an unknown factor into the equation. But Padmé wanted to talk to Anakin for more reasons than just increasing the welfare of the coalition. All this secrecy was taking its toll on her.

For the first three years of her marriage to Anakin, they had kept nothing from each other. Anytime one of them had something on their mind that was particularly troubling, they would talk about it, and work it out together. Now, they were both hiding something from one another.

If this continued, they would hide more things from each other until there was a rift between them. That was the last thing Padmé wanted. She didn't think she could bear that kind of separation from Anakin. Not with the most important moment of their lives drawing near.

Padmé instinctively placed her hands over her womb. Their child was still growing, oblivious to the worries of its mother and father. Now that she thought about it, Anakin's present state of mind had been in effect ever since he had had that vision … that she would die in childbirth and lose the baby.

Obi-Wan was right. She needed to talk to him, so that they could try and work out a solution. In this dark hour, she could not let Anakin walk the path alone.

* * *

Obi-Wan lay on the mat, considering what had just happened. He had done it. He had broken the code, shattered the rule of celibacy, and made a complete mockery of the decrees of the Council. He had done all for the sake of the beautiful woman who now lay sleeping in his arms.

He smiled as he gazed at Sabé's face. _And I don't care_.

He felt as alive right now as he had at any of the other high points in his life; Qui-Gon's accepting him as his padawan, his elevation to Jedi Knight, watching as Anakin was knighted and shaking hands with him for the first time as social equals. And now this. Yes, he thought as he absent-mindedly stroked Sabé's hair. This was right up there.

He couldn't believe that he had been considering slipping off-planet without saying goodbye to Sabé. If he had succeeded, then he would never have realized just how much Sabé had become a part of him, just how much he loved her.

The Force had been his all today, without a doubt.

Sabé stirred, and he stopped his caressing. She looked up at him, contentedly.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey yourself," she muttered, snuggling up against him. "What time is it?"

Obi-Wan checked the chronometer and realized, with a shock, that it was already 1315. He had less than three hours before the ship took off. And since he was supposed to report at 1500, which left him very little time indeed.

"It's late. I have to go soon."

Gently, he disengaged himself from Sabé's embrace and made his way to the shower. He came back five minutes later and began putting on his clothes.

Sabé propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "How soon?"

"Too soon," Obi-Wan said, reaching fro his boots. "Cody will never let me live it down if I show up late."

Sabé nodded in disappointed understanding and got up as well, reaching for her dress. "How long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea," Obi-Wan said truthfully. "Grievous will be difficult to apprehend."

Sabé stopped midway through tightening the clasp on her dress. "Grievous? They're sending you after that metal butcher? Is Anakin going with you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"That's mynock spit!" Sabé said furiously. "They can't expect you to deal with however many thousands of guards he has on your own!"

Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly. "I will have five thousand clone troopers under my command. I'll be alright."

Sabé looked only slightly reassured. But she said nothing else as they finished dressing and made their way into the living room.

At the doorway Sabé grabbed hold of his hands. Her brown eyes bored onto his blue ones. "Promise me something."

He returned her gaze. "Anything."

"You come back to me, alright? Alive and in one piece."

Obi-Wan smiled. "How could I refuse such an offer?"

Sabé slapped his arm. "I'm serious."

Obi-Wan dropped his playful smile and stared hard at Sabé. "Don't worry. I'm never going to hurt you again."

And he meant every word of it. Now that he had found her, he wasn't going to let her go.

Sabé's voice shook slightly. "Promise?"

"I promise," Obi-Wan said.

He drew Sabé into his arms. She grabbed onto him as though she would never let go. He kissed her fiercely.

When they finally broke apart, Obi-Wan opened the door and walked into the hallway. A few feet away he turned and looked back at Sabé.

She was standing in the doorway, her long brown hair falling down to her waist. Her red handmaiden dress shimmered slightly in the light from the sun. Her face was pale, with just a hint of pink in her cheeks. Her lovely eyes were shimmering with unshed tears of worry and happiness.

No words were spoken. He merely gazed at her, burning the picture into memory.

Then he turned and made his way to the turbolift, descending quickly, not looking back.

* * *

Anakin moved toward Dock 94 of the Military Plaza and the distant figures he could see congregated outside the massive Republic Cruiser there. He wished he could have been there much sooner. Chancellor Palpatine, after having taken up most of Anakin's morning with a long (and Anakin thought, pointless) discussion about recent matters in the Senate and how they related to the Jedi and the war. After this he had asked Anakin to take lunch with him. As eager as he was to get to see Obi-Wan, it was hardly an offer he could refuse. So he had stayed, and now he had only forty-five minutes before the ship took off.

As he drew closer, he could see that Obi-Wan was standing with three clone troopers. Anakin recognized one of them, by his distinctive shoulder patch, as Commander Cody, loyal friend of both Anakin and Obi-Wan who had served with them on the Cato Nemoidia campaign.

Obi-Wan nodded his head in agreement about something. Cody saluted, and signaled to his two companions. They boarded the ship.

"Master!" Anakin called out.

Obi-Wan turned, a smile breaking across his face. "I figured you would be here. I was rather distressed when I realized that I had run out of time to look for you before I left. You see now, how if you just sit back, some problems resolve themselves."

They walked together to a large landing platform overlooking the cruiser, near the boarding ramp. The cruiser was huge, easily large enough to hold five thousand clones plus ship crew and technical officers. A large group of clones were three stories below, supervising the loading of tanks, weapons, and supplies onto the ship.

"You're going to need me on this one, Master," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Oh, I agree. However it may turn out just to be a wild bantha chase."

A klaxon sounded, signaling all personnel to board the cruiser. Obi-Wan turned to leave.

"Master!"

Obi-Wan stopped and moved back to Anakin.

Anakin was not sure why he felt it so urgent to say this, but he did not want Obi-Wan to board the ship without hearing it.

"Master, I've disappointed you. I have not been very appreciative of your training . . . I have been arrogant and I apologize . . . I've just been so frustrated with the Council. Your friendship means everything to me."

He paused, not knowing how to continue.

A broad grin appeared on Obi-Wan's face. "You are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you. I have trained you since you were a small boy. I have taught you everything I know. And you have become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be, and you have saved my life more times than I can remember. But be patient, Anakin. It won't be long before the Council makes you a Jedi Master."

Those words from Obi-Wan meant more to Anakin than any praise the Jedi Council or the Chancellor could give. He remained silent, not knowing how to express his appreciation.

Finally, he said simply. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I have enough clones with me to take three systems the size of Utapau. I think I'll be able to handle the situation . . . even without your help."

"Well, there's always a first time," Anakin said.

The two friends laughed, relieving the tension and the worries.

Finally, Obi-Wan extended his hand. "Goodbye, Anakin."

Anakin shook his hand, then pulled Obi-Wan into a brotherly embrace. Grinning, Obi-Wan returned it.

The Jedi Master began to make his way down the boarding ramp. Anakin watched him go.

"Obi-Wan!" he called, "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Goodbye, old friend. May the Force be with you."

He made his way down the rest of the boarding ramp. As he entered the cruiser, Anakin smiled.

* * *

Clone troopers stood at attention in several rows surrounding Obi-Wan's starfighter in the Republic Battle Cruiser's massive hanger. Most of them had their helmets off, and Jango Fett's stoic features stared at Obi-Wan from fifty different faces. Even throughout the three years of war, he still had trouble comprehending clones. When this particular group was in action, they had such different personalities and approaches to combat that it was hard to believe that they all shared the same genetic parent. Despite having their genetic structure modified, some of them were as individual as he was.

At the moment his astromech, R4-G9, was projecting a hologram of the planet Utapau into the middle of the hanger. Commander Cody indicated an area of the globe.

"Fortunately, most of the cities are concentrated on this small continent here . . . on the far side."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'll keep them distracted until you get there. Just don't take too long."

Cody grinned broadly. "Come on, boss, when have I ever let you down?"

Obi-Wan laughed, and several of the commandos joined in. "Well, Cato Nemodia, for starters."

Cody raised a mischievous eyebrow. "That was Anakin who was late, I believe."

Obi-Wan climbed into the cockpit of his starfighter, and R4-G9 shut down the hologram. "Very well, the burden is on me not to destroy all the droids before you get there."

Cody saluted. "I'm counting on you."

Obi-Wan returned the salute. "When have _I_ ever let _you_ down?"

Firing up his starfighter's engines, he rose up from the floor of the hanger. The hanger doors above opened, and Obi-Wan Kenobi soared out into space toward the row of hyperspace rings.

He guided his fighter into one of them, and G9 chirped excitedly, confirming the fighter was locked in. The coordinates for Utapau were already programmed.

"Well," Obi-Wan said, "Let's get this party started."


	11. A Twist of Fate

Hey, it's been a few days, but I have the next chapter for you guys! This is when The Shadow of Vader really begins to diverge from the ROTS plotline, as we will have the first major twist in this chapter. Chapters will start coming more rapidly in a few weeks, when school lets out. Thank you all readers, new and old, for your wonderful feedback!**

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**Chapter 11**

The official transport of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic wove its way through the feverish lines of midday traffic. Any other vehicle would hove been waiting for an hour, but the Chancellor – or indeed anyone riding in his shuttle – had special clearance at the level of emergency vehicles. Therefore, it was able to zip along the fringes of traffic lanes while the occupants of other speeders glared sullenly.

Ten minutes later, the shuttle docked at the Senate Office building. One would have expected a grand reception for the Chancellor, even though the occasion did not call for it. Instead, there was only a lone figure, wearing a homespun robe with the hood up. A Jedi.

The shuttle landed, and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine emerged flanked by four red-robed Royal Guards and Mas Ameeda. Palpatine made a brief hand signal, and his entourage moved off to the side, leaving Palpatine alone with the Jedi. Pulling off his hood, the Jedi revealed the features of Anakin Skywalker.

Palpatine smiled as he greeted his young friend. "Well Anakin, did you see your friend off?"

Anakin nodded. "He will soon have Grievous's head."

Palpatine nodded accommodatingly. "We can only hope the Council didn't make a mistake."

"The Council was very sure in its decision," Anakin said flatly.

They exited the landing platform and emerged in the main hallway of the Senate Office building. They passed several Senators and aides, including Jar-Jar Binks. After giving a quick look over his shoulder to see if Padmé was among them, which she wasn't, Anakin jogged to pull even with Palpatine, who had greatly increased his pace. Anakin couldn't blame him.

Once the group was out of sight, Palpatine and Anakin slowed down. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that they were alone, the Chancellor spoke confidentially.

"There are rumors in the Senate about Master Kenobi. Many believe he is not fit for this assignment."

Anakin frowned. "Not fit? Why would anyone think that?"

Palpatine shrugged. "They say his mind has become fogged by the influence of a certain female, possibly an aide … or even a Senator."

Anakin's pulse quickened. He ignored it.

"That's ridiculous," He said calmly. "Who?"

Palpatine's voice had a sly edge to it. "No one knows who she is, but there is a strong suspicion that she works in the Senate."

"That's impossible," Anakin said confidently, "I would know."

Palpatine's voice was definitely sly now. "Sometimes the closest are the ones who cannot see."

Anakin's confidence slipped a notch. Was it possible? Could Obi-Wan have been hiding something from him? Did he somehow know about Anakin's relationship with Padmé, and was jealous?

He cast a wary glance at Palpatine. Then again, it was possible that Palpatine had his own agenda, and was making all of this up. Why, though? He had no idea.

Palpatine seemed to sense Anakin's unease and spoke reassuringly. "Idle Senate gossip is rarely true and never accurate. I'm sure your Master will do fine."

That did little to soothe Anakin's worries. The confident feeling he had retained after his discussion with Master Windu was fading. The vision of Padmé's death was creeping up on him again.

He wanted to ask Palpatine more about the story of Darth Plaugeis and the ability to preserve life. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to seriously consider Palpatine's offer. What was the use of preserving his own life if the person who made it worth living was gone?

But Palpatine did not give him an opportunity. He bade farewell to Anakin at the next turn and headed for his office, leaving Anakin standing alone in the vast hall.

* * *

_Padmé screamed, her face contorted in agony. Anakin reached desperately for her, but he was helpless. He could feel his wife, could not touch her, nor could he speak to her. He could only watch. _

But Padmé was not alone. Obi-Wan was with her. He stood over Padmé, trying to comfort her. Anakin felt a rush of hope. His Master could do something. He could not be helpless, as Anakin was.

Help her! _He thought at Obi-Wan._ Do something! She's dying!

_Obi-Wan gave no sign that he had heard him either. He continued to talk to Padmé. "Save your energy." _

"I …can't," Padmé gasped.

"Don't give up, Padmé!" Obi-Wan urged.

"It's too hard! I can't hold on!" Padmé sobbed. "Help me, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan's face changed. It was no longer compassionate. His eyes were hard, yet there was a trace of regret, as though this were something that must happen, yet he would prevent if he could.

"I can't help you, Padmé."

No! _Anakin thought._ You _can_ help her! Do something! Don't just let her die!

_Padmé screamed again._

_"Anakin!" She cried, and Anakin's stomach lurched. "Please! I love you! Help me!"_

_"I'm sorry, Padmé," Obi-Wan stated, sadly. "He can't help you either."_

_Padmé's cries became weaker. Her beautiful tear-filled eyes closed and her head drooped onto her shoulder. _

Obi-Wan still stood over her, his face resigned, but accepting.

"I'm sorry."

His face changed. Shadows began to obscure it. Obi-Wan was growing darker, becoming black, silhouetted against bright red lava floes. There was a hiss of a lightsaber igniting …

Anakin sat stonily in the living room of his and Padmé's apartment. His unseeing eyes gazed vaguely at the holoscreen in his hand, registering nothing. He had awoken terrified last night, his hands reaching for an absent lightsaber. He had felt Padmé's warm body sleeping next to him. She was alive. It had been the vision. Again.

But much, much worse this time. Obi-Wan had been there, but could not save Padmé. He, Anakin had been powerless. And the figure … the figure still walked, his menacing laugh echoing in Anakin's ears.

He put aside the holoscreen, which contained information on Senate watch lists. Padmé Amidala was listed as 'under suspicion, possible radical.' Such information should have upset him, but he did not care. It seemed so insignificant.

Padmé came into the room behind him, wearing a simple but elegant blue dress and carrying a folded cloth on her arm. She laid a hand tenderly on Anakin's shoulder before heading over to hang the cloth by the window.

Anakin allowed his Force sense to fill the room. There was a familiar presence all around him, including the couch where he now sat. He turned to Padmé.

"Obi-Wan's been here, hasn't he?"

Padmé looked up. "Yes, he came by last morning."

Anakin got up and stood next to Padmé.

"What did he want?"

Padmé looked at him for a moment. She was trying to get a read on his mood. He knew right now that appeared very tense and uptight.

"He's worried about you," she said finally.

Padmé finished adjusting the tapestry and moved into the bedroom. Anakin followed. He could sense that there was more.

"You told him about us, didn't you?"

Padmé's expression revealed nothing to support or refute his declaration. "He's you're best friend, Ani. He says that you've been under a lot of stress."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "And he's not?"

Padmé shrugged. "You have been moody lately."

"I'm not moody …"

Padmé looked exasperated. "Anakin! Don't do this again!"

Anakin walked to the window and gazed out at the sky. "I don't know ... I feel . . . lost."

Padmé moved up beside him, her expression worried. "Lost? What do you mean? You're always so sure of yourself. I don't understand."

Anakin looked over at her. "The Council doesn't trust me. And I don't know if Obi-Wan does either."

Padmé put her hand on his shoulder and stoked it soothingly. "They trust you with their lives. Obi-Wan loves you as a son."

"A prodigal son, maybe," Anakin mumbled.

"Ani! What's wrong?"

Anakin moved away from Padmé, but kept his gaze fixed on her. He needed to say this to someone. "Something's happening . . . I'm not the Jedi I should be. I am one of the most powerful Jedi, but I'm not satisfied ... I want more, and I know I shouldn't."

Padmé moved close to him again. "You expect to much of yourself."

Tenderly, Anakin place his hand on Padmé's belly. She put of her hands over his and squeezed.

Anakin braced himself and looked deep into Padmé's eyes. The decision had been made for him. He could not let it happen, no matter what the cost.

"I've found a way to save you."

"Save me?"

"From my nightmares," Anakin explained.

Padmé put both of her hands on his shoulders. "Is that what's been troubling you?"

Anakin placed both of his hands on her waist, and stared even harder. "I won't lose you, Padmé. I can't."

Padmé smiled comfortingly. "I'm not going to die in childbirth, Ani. I promise you."

Anakin held her even tighter. "No, I promise you!"

Padmé looked frightened by the sheer intensity of his reply, but he pressed on.

"There's a power … a power to save people from death. I'm strong enough in the Force; I can learn it! I will be able to keep you from dying!"

Padmé looked Anakin straight in the eyes, her voice calm and soothing. Her words seemed to bring Anakin back from a distant place.

"You don't need more power, Anakin. I believe that you can protect me against anything, just the way you are."

She tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his. The two of them shared a deep, lingering kiss that was a balm to Anakin's tormented mind. But unlike so many other times, the healing was not complete. He could not shake his fears, the story of Darth Plagueis, or the dark figure of his vision.

The walls of his one remaining refuge were crumbling.

* * *

The blue Jedi Starfighter emerged from hyperspace a few million kilometers from Utapau. From this distance, nothing could be discerned about its surface; it merely appeared as a blue-green ball hanging against the black nothingness of space. The starfighter disengaged from its hyperspace ring and headed for the planet.

As he drew closer, Obi-Wan could make out several of the massive sinkholes that were Utapau's trademark. These holes, some of them a many as ten kilometers deep, were the only source of fresh water on the planet. Anything left out on Utapau's barren, arid surface did not last long.

"Not a very nice vacation spot, is it G9?" Obi-Wan asked.

His astromech bleated a definite negative. Grinning, Obi-Wan flicked on his identification beacon, seeking a place to land. Ordinarily it would have been unwise to do such a thing on a Confederacy-controlled world, but the remote Rim worlds did not keep traffic logs, so it was unlikely that Grievous would be tipped off.

Whatever passed for Orbital Control on Utapau acknowledged him and granted him permission to land in one of the sinkholes; the largest one, by the looks of things. Obi-Wan plunged his starfighter into the atmosphere.

He dove into the indicated sinkhole. It was an impressive sight, even for Obi-Wan, who was used to Coruscant's tall skyscrapers. The Utapauns had built a thriving metropolis inside the vast sinkhole, a many-layered city connected through rock passages, cables, and ferried by flying lizard beasts. The spectacle reminded Obi-Wan that even though he had visited hundreds of worlds in his life, thousands more remained, each as different as the next.

But there would be time for sightseeing later. He had a mission to complete. He guided his starfighter onto a cleared platform and landed smoothly. The landing pad was quiet. Deserted too, except for a small reception committee that was making its way toward him at a dignified pace. Obi-Wan knew that the calm was an illusion by the way his Jedi sense was tingling. He was being watched.

The reception committee was close now. He could see that all its members were native Utapauns; tall and thin, with dark eyes and long bloodless faces. Several shorter, bug-eyed natives flanked them, actually a subspecies of their taller cousins.

The foremost of the Utapauns, with a lined face and wearing a long blood red robe of high office, stepped forward. Obi-Wan knew from the briefing that this was Tion Mendon, administrator of the city.

Mendon approached Obi-Wan and cordially bowed. "Greetings, young Jedi. What brings you to our remote sanctuary?"

Obi-Wan bowed respectfully. "Unfortunately, the war."

Mendon's expression immediately became guarded. "There's no war here," he said stiffly, "Unless you brought it with you."

Mendon was lying; Obi-Wan didn't even have to use the Force to check. But it was not out of malicious intent; it was a fear of being overheard.

He decided to bait his words so that Mendon's desire to be relieved from his plight would overcome his fear. "With your kind permission, I should like some fuel and to use your city as a base as I search nearby systems for General Grievous."

It worked. Mendon cast a furtive glance around then moved closer, lowering his voice so that Obi-Wan could barely hear.

"He is here!" the administrator hissed. "We are being held hostage! They are watching us."

Obi-Wan nodded, giving any observers no clue about the seriousness of what he had just heard. "I understand."

"Tenth level," Mendon whispered, "Thousands of battle droids."

"Tell your people to take shelter," Obi-Wan instructed him. "If you have warriors, now is the time."

One glance at Mendon and he knew that the administrator had understood. Mendon stepped back and bowed deeply. Obi-Wan returned the gesture and headed back to his ship. Several of the shorter bug-eyed creatures scurried around, connecting fuel lines to his fighter.

Situating himself in the cockpit, he whispered instructions to his astromech. "Geenine, take the Fighter back to the ship. I'm staying here. Tell Cody I've made contact."

The droid beeped a reply and fired up the engines. The little creatures quickly scurried away, pausing only to disconnect the fuel lines. Obi-Wan made one more glance around. He would have to be quick.

* * *

Five levels above, Tion Mendon was accosted by a MagnaGuard droid. It lowered its electrostaff to point at Mendon's chest. "What did the human want?"

Mendon did not flinch, though the charged end of the staff was singing his robes. "I told you, all he wanted was fuel."

The bodyguard's robotic voice was suspicious. "What was his name?"

Mendon shrugged. "He didn't say."

The droid took a menacing step forward, forcing Mendon to retreat. "You'd better not be lying."

Mendon smiled thinly. "Why would I lie when my life is in such a precarious position?"

The droid lowered its staff and swept off. It was true; the administrator had little to gain by lying. If discovered, his life and the lives of all his people were forfeit. There was no need to trouble the General over something as insignificant as a single human.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood hidden in the shadows, watching as G9 piloted his starfighter back up out of the hole towards space. To complete his ruse, he had had to wait till the last possible moment, and then cloak himself using the Force. Now Cody would know when to make his move. Obi-Wan activated his signal beacon, a shielded device that transmitted his location and his vital signs to Cody, who had a corresponding device. These relatively new devices were ideal for this operation, as the signals were not subject to interference and could not be detected unless one had the corresponding device.  
Satisfied, he began to walk, staying in the shadows. Halfway up a stairwell, he took a moment to survey the scene with his electrobinoculars. The tenth level was sealed off, no doubt accessible only from a guarded turbolift. Not that that would present any problem, but he wanted to avoid attracting attention.

A strange echoing cry drew his attention. It was coming from a corral on the second level. He headed in the direction of the noise. It would be wise to obtain some local transportation.

The corral was filled with half a dozen large dragon-like lizards. He recalled seeing several of them on his descent. They were capable of scaling the steep walls of the sinkhole from the outside.

Heading over to the nearest wrangler, he made a slight movement with his hand, putting the weight of the Force behind his words. "I need transportation."

The wrangler nodded agreeably. "You need transportation," he said in his native tongue.

"You will get it for me."

"I will get it for you."

The wrangler turned and began speaking to one of his fellows in his native language. Obi-Wan walked up and down the line, examining each of the lizards in turn. He finally settled on a large and particularly strong looking female.

"This one," he indicated.

The wrangler quickly saddled the beast and brought it over. "Boga. She answers to Boga."

"Good girl, Boga," Obi-Wan said, patting the beast's neck.

The lizard grunted in appreciation. Obi-Wan quickly mounted the beast and gave the reins a slap. Boga charged forward out of the cave, bellowing. He pulled to a halt after a few hundred meters, examining the best route of ascending to the tenth level.

"Up there," he whispered to Boga. "We're going up there."

She seemed to have understood him. Without waiting for him to slap the reins, she took off in the indicated direction, ascending the rocky slope with great leaps and bounds, making surprisingly little noise save for her occasional screech. Obi-Wan held on, permitting himself to enjoy the thrill.

* * *

General Grievous paced in front of the seated Separatist leaders. His normally foul mood was absent today, replaced by a curious sense of elation. Today was the day that these loathsome fools who considered themselves the leaders of _his_ Confederacy were to be shipped of to the stronghold on Mustafar. There they were to remain until Lord Sidious's plan had reached its conclusion. And that could take months, depending on how hard the Jedi was to break.

His stalking predators gait slowed as he spoke. "It won't be long before the armies of the Republic trap us here."

His statement was met by horrified gasps from most of the Leadership Council. What remained of Grievous's insides crawled with disgust. They lacked ever the slight self-control to contain their fear. No wonder the Confederacy was about to lose the war.

He continued. "I am sending you to the Mustafar system in the Outer Rim. It is a volcanic planet that generates a great deal of scanning interference. You will be safe there."

Most of the Separatists leaders murmured approvingly. Of course they would. They were being given another hidey-hole to crawl into while he and his armies bore the brunt of the Republic assault. Nute Gunray, however, with his never-ending tendency to make things difficult, stood up indignantly.

"Safe?" he shouted, "Chancellor Palpatine managed to escape your grip, General. Without Count Dooku, I have doubts about your ability to keep us safe!"

Grievous snarled inwardly. Squirming grub. He wondered how much cash it would take to bribe one of the Nemoidian Guards to push their leader into a lava flow while on Mustafar. He decided against it. When it came time for Gunray's end, he wanted to do the deed himself, to ensure the appropriate amount of suffering was endured.

"Be thankful, Viceroy, that you have not found _yourself_ in my grip," he spat. Gunray still looked mutinous, but at least he had closed his mouth. "Your ship is waiting."

High above, Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully as he watched the Separatist leaders depart. So the General was sending the Separatist leaders somewhere to hide. Hardly surprising. They could not stay in one place for too long, or they might have endure _combat_.

Mustafar … Mustafar … he had never heard of it. Apparently it was another sanctuary world like Utapau, only covered in lava. He filed the name away. It would come in handy when the time came to track down the Separatist leaders.

Grievous had stalked away to the edge of the control center. The room contained at least a hundred droids, covering every entrance and exit. Stealth had served him well up to now, but it was going to be impossible to get to Grievous unseen. There was no way to be covert about this. He might as well make a big entrance and catch them off guard.

Shedding his cloak, Obi-Wan jumped 20 meters to the control center floor, landing right behind the General.

"Hello, there!"

A hundred blaster barrels swiveled to point at him. General Grievous, fenced behind four of his bodyguards with ignited electrostaffs, looked taken aback for a moment, and then chuckled.

"General Kenobi!" he said delightedly, as though Obi-Wan had arrived on time for a prearranged tea party. "My, my, you _are_ a bold one!"

His voice lost it pleasant edge as he spat at his bodyguards. "Crush him!"

The four bodyguard charged at Obi-Wan, swinging their staffs. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan met them head on.

They traded lightning fast blows for a few seconds, while the droids tried to hem him in from all sides. _I don't think so_, thought Obi-Wan. He flipped out of the center landing in the on-guard position. When the droids tried to follow him, he used the Force to bring the four-ton steel crane hanging from the ceiling down on the heads.

Three of the droids were instantly crushed, the fourth pinned. Almost lazily, Obi-Wan sliced the head from the struggling fourth droid and approached Grievous.

The General stood tense, looking for an escape route. There was none. He had two options; signal the droids to cut down the Jedi and leave himself open to attack, or engage Obi-Wan alone.

"Back away!" he snarled to the droids. "I will deal with this Jedi slime _myself_!"

Obi-Wan stopped three paces away. "Your move."

Grievous reached inside his cloak and pulled out four lightsabers. "You fool!" he snarled. "I've been trained in your Jedi arts by Count Dooku!"

Shedding his cloak, he split each of his arms, creating four separate limbs. Each one snatched a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan smiled confidently. "That's alright. I trained the man who killed him."

Grievous growled. "Attack, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan dropped into the on-guard position. Grievous began to twirl his upper arms, spinning two of his lightsabers around faster and faster. He advanced menacingly, wheels of green and blue fire leaving a molten trail behind him.

Obi-Wan stood firm.

The two met with a ferocious clash in the center of the hanger and Grievous brought all four of his blades to bear on the Jedi Master. Every bit of Obi-Wan's dodging ability was needed, as well as his considerable combat skill, to hold off the cybrog. Each one of Grievous's strikes was much faster and much stronger than any flesh and blood being could deliver. Obi-Wan was forced backward, staying on the defensive, parrying all of Grievous's strikes.

A warning screeched in the Force and he dodged to the left, barely missing being hit by a laser bolt fired from one of the many droid sharpshooters perched around the room. Another quickly followed, and another. Obi-Wan swore under his breath. He should have known Grievous wouldn't play fair. Honor was a flexible concept to him. He continued to focus on parrying Grievous's attacks, relying on the Force to warn him of incoming sniper shots.

He could tell that Grievous was getting aggravated that his ferocious salvo had not yet managed to draw blood. Of course, Grievous didn't have the Force. He relied on his enhanced sensors and the speed and power of the hydraulic pistons in his arms to counter and make his attacks. He could not anticipate, he could only react. And while that may have been good enough to bring down dozens of other Jedi, it wasn't going to work on Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Ducking under Grievous's guard in an impossibly fast move, he severed one of the droid general's arms and sheared the lightsaber it held. Arm and saber fell uselessly to the floor.

Grievous looked surprised at the sudden loss of limb. But it didn't last too long. With a roar of rage he came at Obi-Wan again, his three remaining sabers slicing even more viciously.

But Obi-Wan was in a rhythm now. He was immersing himself even more deeply in his fighting style, allowing his natural love of combat to take over and give him strength. His one saber shown every bit as brightly as Grievous's three. For several minutes, there was no sound in the control center but the clashing of the energy blades, as the Jedi Master and the cybrog general moved back and forth in a deadly dance of death.

Moving his saber expertly, Obi-Wan countered a ferocious blow from the general, then reversed his grip, letting the Force guide his hand to deflect a laser bolt back toward the droid sniper who had fired it. The energy bolt screamed across the hall, taking the droid in the chest casing. The droid fell twenty stories to floor, crushing two others beneath it.

Obi-Wan did not look, but dove under Grievous's outstretched arm, dragging his lightsaber blade across the back of Grievous's leg. The general stumbled. Obi-Wan quickly pressed his advantage, slicing off another arm.

The General was so enraged that he did not even seem to register the loss of another one of his limbs. He made a vicious overhead chop at Obi-Wan with both sabers. Rolling away, Obi-Wan sprang up with an attack at Grievous's head. But the General was ready for it, and met Obi-Wan's blade with both of his own. Their lightsabers locked, and the two combatants shoved at each other, each trying to break through the others guard and gain an advantage. Cold, determined blue eyes met sickly, hate-filled yellow as the two enemies glared at each other, their duel every bit as much a contest of wills as of swordsmanship. It all came down to who would break first.

A huge explosion echoed throughout the sinkhole, shaking loose rocks and machinery. It was enough to distract both Obi-Wan and Grievous from their duel. They looked up to view a spectacular sight.

Clone troopers were rappelling in all around the control center. Squad leaders barked commands as they descended, ordering coordinated bursts of fire at concentrated groups of droids. An advance guard laid down a hail of fire at the stunned droids, while others moved behind the lines to secure the crucial points of the control room.

Grievous looked about wildly. His guards fell like sand formations before a tidal wave. The clones had secured the entrances and exits to the control center. All routes of escape were being cut off as the clones systematically turned the control room into a scrap yard. Obi-Wan held his lightsaber ready, waiting for Grievous to make a move.

He smiled at the obvious signs of the droid general's increasing desperation. "I may not defeat your droids, but my troops certainly will."

The General's menacing yellow eyes bored into Obi-Wan's. "Army or not, you must realized you are _doomed_!"

Obi-Wan stared back hard at Grievous. "Oh, I don't think so."

Grievous lunged with rage at Obi-Wan, his desperation fueling an all-out last attack.

But Obi-Wan did not meet Grievous's charge with his blade. Instead, he shoved out with the power of the Force, creating a wall of energy that slammed into the droid general.

Grievous was shoved up away from Obi-Wan to slam into a support strut dangling from the ceiling. The force of impact caused him to drop both of his remaining sabers. He fell to the floor in an undignified heap.

Obi-Wan chased after him, saber swung high, determined not to let Grievous escape in the confusion.

Grievous scuttled away on his four remaining limbs like an oversized crab. He reached one of his bodyguard's discarded staffs and picked it up. For a moment Obi-Wan thought he was going to return to the engagement, but Grievous turned and leapt onto a lower platform. Slapping a clone trooper out of his way, he boarded a wheel-shaped speeder bike and fired up the engines. A few brave clone troopers leapt in front of him, firing at the machines crucial parts.

Grievous's wheel bike took off, crashing through the clones in front of his bike and crushing them. Bowling through droid and clone ranks alike, he disappeared over the edge of the control center and out of sight.

Obi-Wan whistled to Boga. She came at top speed, weaving her way through the raging battle. He mounted her, gave the reins a quick slap, and followed Grievous over the edge. Sliding down the wall of the sinkhole, the lizard secured a grip and leapt onto the stone ledge along which Grievous's wheel bike was now tearing. The force of the landing nearly caused Obi-Wan to drop his lightsaber, and only a lightning-quick save from the Force prevented it from tumbling down to the pitched battle ten stories below. Obi-Wan quickly clipped his precious weapon onto his belt. He was going to need that.

* * *

Chancellor Palpatine sat in his office, silhouetted against the bright red evening sky of Coruscant. Behind him stood Anakin, his position suggesting a loyal protector carefully observing any threat. In truth, Anakin would much rather have been on the other side of the room, facing Palpatine, rather than standing behind him. He had a much more personal interest in the group petitioning the Chancellor.

Padmé Amidala stood at the forefront of a delegation of five Senators, most of whose names Anakin did not know. Padmé did not look at Anakin, but kept her gaze fixed on the Chancellor, grilling him about the recent executive decrees that he had issued. Palpatine looked concerned and sympathetic, but Anakin had been around the Chancellor long enough to know that his patience was wearing.

"I understand your reservations completely, Senator," Palpatine was saying, "and I assure you the appointment of Governors will in no way compete with the duties of the Senate."

Padmé did not relax her intense stare. "May I take it then, that there will be no further amendments to the Constitution?"

Palpatine sighed. "I want this terrible conflict to end as much as you do, My Lady, and when it does I guarantee an immediate return to democracy . . ."

"You are pursuing a diplomatic solution to the war, then," Padmé said pointedly.

Palpatine gave her an entreating smile. "You must trust me to do the right things, Senator. That is why I am here."

"But surely …" Fang Zar interrupted.

Palpatine rounded on him, his expression much less benevolent.

"I have said I will do what is right. That should be enough for your . . . committee."

He spat out the last word as though it were coated in something particularly foul. Anakin thought that Fang Zar ought to back off. Palpatine's supply of patience seemed to have been exhausted.

Padmé clearly noticed that the Chancellor's mood was becoming less receptive as well. She bowed cordially, as if to mark an end to the meeting. "On behalf of the "delegation of two thousand," I thank you, Chancellor."

Palpatine nodded courteously. "I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Senator."

Padmé glanced at Anakin as she and the rest of the Senators exited, the first look she had given him. Her expression was one of undisguised frustration. She gave a barely noticeable jerk of her head toward Palpatine, by which she meant _see what you can do_.

Palpatine looked after the departing Senators, speaking aside to Anakin. "Their sincerity is to be admired, although I sense there is more to their request than they are telling us."

"What do you mean?"

"They are not to be trusted."

Anakin frowned. "Surely Senator Amidala can be trusted."

Palpatine sighed slightly. "These are unstable times for the Republic, Anakin. Some see instability as an opportunity. Senator Amidala is hiding something. I can see it in her eyes."

"I think you're mistaken," Anakin said rather forcefully.

Palpatine looked at him as though he were worried about Anakin's naiveté. "I'm surprised your Jedi insights are not more sensitive to such things."

Anakin shrugged. "I simply don't sense betrayal in Senator Amidala."

Palpatine smiled as though he knew something Anakin didn't. "Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it. There is much conflict in you, Anakin."

Anakin kept his face impassive, but inside he struggled. Palpatine had to be lying. There was no way Padmé was hiding anything from him. They didn't keep secrets from each other. Or rather, she didn't keep secrets from him, he admitted shamefully. He had been hiding quite a bit from her these last few weeks.

But why would Palpatine lie? What possible motivation could he have? Could he be right here? Could it be that Anakin's deep love for Padmé was blinding him?

Come to think of it, she had been acting more secretive lately. He had not pressed, valuing her privacy, but now it worried him.

He glanced over at Palpatine. Never had he been so uneasy about the man. The comforting friend feeling was slowly disappearing and being replaced by a vague shadow. He had no idea what to expect from him anymore.

Yet he could never shake the tale of Darth Plaugeis from his mind. It shone like a beacon to him, beckoning him ever closer, heedless of the dangers. He had been taught to reject anything that was of the darkside from the moment he had begun his training, but that had not stopped him. He was fascinated by it, something made all the more attractive by being off-limits. Yet he was wary of it; he had spent most of his adult life fighting it. These two compulsions warred in his mind, battling over Padmé's agonized face. Soon he would have to make a choice …

Palpatine looked up, as though he knew what troubled Anakin's mind. "Have you thought anymore about what I told you?"

Anakin tried to keep his voice neutral. He found it difficult.

"It … intrigues me," he said finally.

Palpatine smiled. "I thought it would. Such a power holds great allure for one such as you, who is powerful enough to master it. When you are ready to speak to me about it more seriously, I will be here, waiting. All you have to do … is ask."

* * *

Tearing through the city at a breakneck pace, Obi-Wan and Grievous weaved their way in and out of the sporadic explosions and bursts of laser fire in the many city plaza. Grievous kept jerking his wheel bike through a series of complex maneuvers, often ripping through formations of droids or clone troopers in the process. Yet Obi-Wan's faithful lizard steed Boga kept the pace, bounding over the scattered debris and bodies, gaining ground on the General.

They reached a series of large windmills, whose blades were still at the moment. Grievous manipulated a control on his console, and the blades started spinning seconds after he ducked through. Boga pulled up short, unwilling to risk going thorough the spinning blades.

Obi-Wan looked around desperately for a way around. There, one story below across a large gap, was a ledge. Grievous was speeding towards it, apparently confident that he had shaken his pursuit.

Obi-Wan spurred Boga on, and she ran to the edge and jumped. For a second, Jedi and lizard hung in space, and then Boga crashed down on the edge of the ledge, barely managing to scrabble on. They had drawn level with Grievous.

The droid general struck out with his electrostaff. With no time to draw his lightsaber, Obi-Wan grabbed onto the other end of the staff as they entered a tunnel. Each of them tugged on the staff for a moment, and then Obi-Wan leapt onto Grievous's bike and seized full control of the electostaff.

Situating himself behind Grievous, he pulled the staff tight against the General's neck, throttling him and forcing Grievous to take his hands off the controls. Grievous pulled out a blaster and began to fire over his shoulder at Obi-Wan as he used his other hand to try and regain control of the vehicle. Obi-Wan positioned the staff to block the bolts, and the bike sped on through the tunnel.

They emerged on a small landing platform, which bore only a Trade Federation custom fighter, big enough for two people. The bike hit the platform hard and rocketed toward the edge, out of control. Obi-Wan threw himself from the doomed vehicle, Grievous close behind. The wheel bike disappeared over the precipice.

Obi-Wan leapt up and dropped into a crouch. The tumble had caused him to drop his electrostaff. He picked it up and charged at Grievous, who was scrambling to his feet, his claws scraping the deck.

Obi-Wan dealt Grievous a ferocious blow to the stomach. There was a screech of tearing metal, and the General's stomach plate buckled, hanging uselessly. Grievous fell backward, balking. Obi-Wan dealt him a hard blow to the head with the staff.

Grievous fell to the platform, stunned. Obi-Wan saw that his blow to the stomach had ripped the plate away, revealing a gelatinous bag containing what was left of Grievous's organs. He had found a weak spot. Raising the staff, he prepared to drive its charged end deep into the belly of his enemy.

One of Grievous's remaining clawed hands shot up, intercepting the staff. Obi-Wan tugged, but to no avail. The General now controlled the staff.

Grievous flipped Obi-Wan over him using the staff. Leaping to his feet, he charged the Jedi, who had fallen hard and was scrabbling to unclip his lightsaber, realizing that he was now vulnerable.

Using the Force to guide him to his feet, he snatched the lightsaber and ignited it. He quickly tried to get into an appropriate defensive position to counter the General's mad charge.

Not quickly enough. Grievous's staff slammed onto his weapon arm with paralyzing force. The saber fell from Obi-Wan's nerveless fingers to the feet of the General, who kicked out of reach.

Grievous swung the staff at Obi-Wan's head. He ducked, then grabbed onto the staff and tugged with all his might. He succeeded in pulling out of the General's grip.

Grievous launched a punch. Obi-Wan blocked it, the force stinging his arms. His own tightened fingers smashed against Grievous's head. Grievous shook it off and kicked out with a clawed foot, knocking Obi-Wan away from him, almost to the edge of the platform. The breath went out of him, and he lay there, trying to recover his strength quickly.

The General picked up the staff and charged him, intent on finishing the battle while his opponent was down. Obi-Wan cast his eyes about for his saber. There it was, on the far edge of the platform. He would never be able to summon it in time. But Grievous's discarded blaster lay only a few meters away. As much as he disliked blasters, Obi-Wan reached out to summon it to him. Now was no time to be choosy.

The General saw what he was doing and increased his speed, roaring with anger. Obi-Wan stretched out with all his considerable power. The blaster skittered along the platform, then flew to his hand. He brought the weapon to bear on Grievous.

Too late. The General dove, and Obi-Wan's shot only skimmed his chest plating, rather than burning a hole through his exposed organs. Then Grievous brought his clawed foot down on Obi-Wan's blaster hand.

The weapon fell from Obi-Wan's fingers. He rolled, barely missing the strike aimed at his head. But he could only roll so far; his arm was still trapped. Summoning the Force, he kicked out with its power, knocking Grievous away from him and allowing him to pull his arm free. Leaping up, he charged at the stumbling Grievous and seized the electrostaff, pulling it from the General's grasp and hurling it away toward the edge of the platform.

A punishing right cross took him across the face.

Obi-Wan's head snapped back, stars whirling in his field of vision. He could feel himself tumbling backward, where his already dazed head made contact with the durasteel platform.

Grievous's leg swung out of the corner of his eye. He raised his hand to block it, taking a numbing hit to his arm. The other leg came in soon after, nailing the Jedi Master's bruised skull.

Darkness crept into the corners of his vision. He could feel himself fading, being drawn into a deep black void from which escape was not certain. He tried to fight it; he could not fail now.

With all of his strength, he kicked out at where he thought Grievous's exposed internal organs were. He felt his foot make contact, and heard a satisfying grunt of pain. And then the Grievous's steel fist crashed down onto his head again, and Obi-Wan surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

Grievous stood over the unconscious body of the fallen Jedi Master, trying to regain his strength. That had been close. Much, much too close.

The fight had taken a lot out him. Not only had Kenobi succeeded in wounding him, he had very nearly taken advantage of his main vulnerability, his vital organs contained in a sack of preservative fluid. The only part of him that still connected him to the world of the living.

Gingerly, he touched the exposed sack. It was bruised, but intact. He had been lucky it had not been punctured, or his victory would mean little. He would have been dead in minutes.

Still, he was going to need some long hours in Maintenance before the damage could be repaired. But that would be easy enough to do back at the base. No Jedi or friend of the Republic would ever think to look for him there.

He looked down at Kenobi again. The Jedi Master had put up a very good fight. He was dangerous, much too dangerous to be left alive. He should kill him now, and throw the body into the sinkhole.

But he couldn't do that. Lord Sidious's instructions had been very clear. The Jedi was to be delivered relatively intact, so that the Dark Lord could begin his work without a long convalescence period. Grievous could still remember his master's words.

_If he is damaged any more than I deem necessary_, Sidious had warned him, _it will be your head, General_.

Orders did not get more specific than that. Vaguely, Grievous wondered why Sidious wanted Kenobi, and the other one, Skywalker, so badly. In his opinion, they were far more trouble than they were worth. Were it his decision, he would stave both their heads in and dump them in an asteroid field. But it was not his decision. He had to deliver Kenobi.

He walked to the edge of the platform were Kenobi's lightsaber lay. He picked it up and admired it. Excellent construction. It would serve Grievous well, since Kenobi had destroyed all his other favorite lightsabers.

Clipping the weapon onto his waist, he stalked back over to Kenobi's unconscious body. He picked the Jedi Master up and slung him over his shoulder. Kenobi's head bobbed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Good. He wasn't waking up anytime soon.

Something hard clinked against Grievous's shoulder. A device was attached to Kenobi's belt. He unclipped it and examined it.

Ah. Ingenious. A signal beacon. Transmitting Kenobi's location and vital signs, no doubt. So that was how the had found him. It was a sophisticated device; even Utapau's extensive jamming fields had not affected it.

Tightening his fist, he crushed the beacon to scrap. There went Kenobi's vital readings, and his location too. As far as Republic Command was concerned, he was dead.

Grievous opened the cockpit of his starfighter and slung the unconscious Jedi into the small compartment behind the pilot's seat. It was cramped back there, but the Jedi was in no position to care.

Grievous clambered into the pilot's chair, internally wincing at the sputtering sound of his damaged leg servomotors. He would need to get those repaired too. More time in Maintenance. Curse the Jedi.

He closed the cockpit and fired up the engines. The fighter soared effortlessly out of the sinkhole and toward the outer reaches of the atmosphere. A quick glance below informed him that the battle was still going on. Not for much longer though. His forces had no chance against that clone army.

There was no point in ever coming back to this world. Utapau was lost to the Confederacy. But he, Grievous, still lived, and as long as that remained unchanged, nothing else mattered.

The fighter broke through the last traces of atmosphere and entered the black void of space. As soon as the planet's gravity well was cleared, Grievous punched in the coordinates for the base, then sat back and watched the stars elongate. Safe in hyperspace, he allowed himself to chuckle. Lord Sidious would be pleased.

* * *

Chapters will start coming more rapidly in a few weeks, when school lets out. As always, your comments are read and appreciated.


	12. Imprisoned

**Colex: Glad you like it! Grievous is going to play a substantial role in this story, even though I'd be lying if I said he makes it to the end.**

**iluvewansmile: Sorry, even Obi-Wan takes a tumble every now and then. He'll get back up, but he's going to be down for a while.**

**Jedi Master Arie Skywalker: Good to see I caught you off guard! Hopefully I can keep you guessing.**

**gregdoreza: Wow, buddy, you realy don't like Palpatine do you? Rest assured, he'll have plenty of pain before this story is over, but he's also a resiliant SOB, so he'll stick around for a while.**

**dshortklutz: Careful, Anakin isn't totally free of Palpatine yet.**

**Ryuuko1: I'm thrilled you liked it so much! I'll try to get posts up quicker (finals week sucks).****

* * *

**

**Chapter 12**

Anakin and Mace stood side by side in the Situation room of the Jedi Temple. A large console projected the holograms of Yoda, Ki-Adi Mundi, and Aayla Secura as they each gave their report in turn. So far all the battles on Kashyyyk, Mygeeto, and Felucia were going favorably. The Clone Brigades were slowly but surely gaining ground, pushing the Separatist forces back to their last remaining strongholds.

" … And we have forced the Separatists into making a last stand," Aayla Secura finished. "If we can defeat them there, the planet will be ours."

Mace nodded approvingly. "Excellent, Aayla. Good work."

A beeping noise emanated from the console and Commander Cody's hologram appeared. "Master Windu, may I interrupt?"

Mace nodded. "Of course. How are things on Utapau?"

Cody saluted. "General Kenobi has made contact with General Grievous, and we have begun our attack. I am sending you the details now."

Mace pulled up the information and copied it onto a datapad. "Thank you, Commander. Anakin, deliver this report to the Chancellor. His reaction will give us a clue to his intentions."

Anakin bowed obediently. "Yes, Master."

He turned to leave and was almost out the door when Cody's voice brought him to a halt.

"Wait."

Anakin turned around. Cody was observing a device in his hand, tapping its screen as though it was malfunctioning. He was frowning. "This can't be right."

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Mace asked.

Cody looked up. "General Kenobi's signal beacon is no longer transmitting."

"What?" Anakin exclaimed, completely forgetting that he was supposed to have already left. "What do you mean?"

"The General was equipped with a shielded signal beacon that transmitted his status and location to this device," Cody explained, holding the instrument up. "Now we are getting no reading. Both his vital signs and his location are gone."

Anakin felt a chill spread through him. "Are you sure it's not just interference?"

"Positive," Cody said. "The beacon was specially modified to function despite interference. There is no way the signal was intercepted or tampered with."

"What could cause such a disruption, then?" Mace asked.

Cody looked grim. "The only thing that could stop the signal was if the device was destroyed."

"What about Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked.

"If the General was killed, the beacon would transmit this information to us," Cody said. "Unfortunately, if the beacon has been destroyed, there is a high probability that the General is dead as well."

The chill Anakin had felt earlier had returned, but stronger. It felt like his insides had turned to ice. The holograms of Ki-Adi Mundi, and Aalya Secura looked shocked. Yoda closed his eyes, looking as grim as Cody.

"Feel him, I cannot."

Anakin stretched out his own perceptions, searching for his friend through their bond. Where Obi-Wan's presence had once been there was now cold emptiness. He could not feel him at all. But his master couldn't be dead! But he would know if Obi-Wan was gone, wouldn't he?

"He's not dead," Anakin said confidently. "I would have felt it!"

Mace spoke to Cody. "Do you know where he was last seen?"

"I can get that information for you."

"Do it," Mace said.

Cody exited the hologram field. Mace looked down, deep worry etched into his face. "I feared this," he whispered.

Anakin had too. He had been worried that something would happen to Obi-Wan when he wasn't there to help him. This was his fault. He should have insisted on accompanying Obi-Wan, he shouldn't have listened to those idiots on the Council …

Cody reappeared and Mace looked up expectantly. Cody shook his head.

"The last witnesses to see General Kenobi were members of the Fourth Clone Marine regiment. They testify that the saw Master Kenobi crossing the main plaza of the city, in pursuit of General Grievous's vehicle. We have no word on any further sightings."

Mace nodded, his disappointment evident. "Thank you, Cody. Continue the battle. As soon as possible, send a detachment of your troops along Master Kenobi's projected travel path to look for him."

The commander nodded. "I'll see to it myself. Cody out."

His hologram winked out. All five Jedi present remained silent for a minute, contemplating the magnitude of what they had just heard.

Anakin broke the silence. "Do you still want me to deliver that report to the Chancellor?"

Mace shook his head. "No. Without contact from Obi-Wan we have no way of knowing if General Grievous has been apprehended. I believe that it is best if we do not let anyone outside the Order know that Master Kenobi has gone missing. It could complicate things severely."

He turned to face Anakin. "I understand that your immediate instinct is to go to your friend's aid. However, I must beg you not to act yet. We do not know enough about the situation to make any intelligent judgments. Despite what Cody said, it may just be a malfunction. And you are needed here."

Anakin's insides boiled with resentment. Master Windu had read his mind perfectly. He had been prepared to run to the hanger, grab the nearest Jedi Starfigher, and blast off for Utapau. Now they were ordering him to stay. Rarely had he been so tempted to defy them.

But what Master Windu said made sense. There was too much that they didn't know about the situation. It was too early to be seriously worried. If Obi-Wan were here now, he would chastise Anakin for thinking so rashly.

Grudgingly, he nodded. "I understand, Master."

Mace nodded and indicated the door. "Good. Please excuse us."

Anakin left. This once, he didn't mind being excluded from the discussion. He had much more important things to worry about now.

* * *

After Anakin had exited, Mace turned to face the holograms again. It pained him to send Anakin from the room, but the young Jedi was still very confused. The Chancellor's influence hung over him, no matter how much he tried to hide it. And could not afford to take even the slightest chance when discussing such a volatile subject.

"This news complicates things," he said simply.

Yoda inclined his head gravely. "Unprepared for this, we were. Afford to lose Master Kenobi, we could not. And at large, Grievous remains."

"This sounds sketchy to me," Aayla said. "Vanishing without a trace. It's not Greivous's style. More like that of the Sith."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Aayla," Ki-Adi Mundi cautioned. "We have no proof that the Sith are involved."

"We know that the Sith control the Confederacy," Aayla retorted. "And that their sphere of influence extends into the Republic as well. It's possible that they could have used Grievous as bait to set a trap for Obi-Wan. He's caused them considerable distress."

Yoda leaned heavily on his cane. "If involved the Sith are, then deadly, this game could become."

"But how could they have learned of the mission?" Ki-Adi Mundi pressed. "Only those within the Order and the uppermost echelon of the Republic command structure knew about its true nature."

"Powerful enemies, we have," Yoda intoned.

"This is but the latest in a long chain of disturbing events," Mace said. "Scattered clouds are coming together for one last storm that is too well organized to be coincidental." He stared hard at each of them. "I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi."

"Palpatine could very well be involved in it," Aayla mused. "He certainly has been no friend of Jedi. The dark side of the Force surrounds the Chancellor."

Ki-Adi Mundi agreed. "If he does not give up his emergency powers after the destruction of Grievous then he should be removed from office."

Mace frowned. "That could be a dangerous move. The Jed Council would have to take control of the Senate in order to secure a peaceful transition."

"And also replace the Congress with Senators who are not filled with greed and corruption," Ki-Adi Mundi added.

"It's irrelevant now, in any case," Aayla said, "With Grievous on the loose, the Chancellor has justification for retaining his emergency powers."

"Still," Mace warned, "We cannot rule out the possible necessity."

"To a dark place this line of thought will carry us," Yoda cautioned. "Great care we must take."

Judging by the looks on his comrades' faces, Mace knew that he was not the only one uncomfortable with that thought.

* * *

General Grievous paced the length of the room, testing out his repaired leg servomotors. Putting his foot down gingerly, he listened for any sound of grating or sputtering. Nothing. Good. But what about high stress maneuvers?

Pivoting around, he kicked out and drove his foot through the wall. There was a scream from the other side, and a female servant tore away down the corridor, horrified by the appearance of the General's clawed foot inches from her head. Grievous ripped his leg free and nodded in satisfaction. Everything was in order there, too.

He ran a metal hand over his new stomach plate as well. It felt smooth and secure. The process of replacing it had taken hours, for it could not be welded. A single stray spark could ignite the preservative fluid and destroy him. Grievous had no interest in becoming a fireball.

Donning his cloak, he began to pace again, considering recent events. Thus far, he had carried out Lord Sidious's demands well. Kenobi had been subdued and captured. Apart from a few bad bruises and a moderate concussion, he was in a healthy state. At least in the body. Few medical experts would consider being unconscious for forty hours healthy. Not that that was all Kenobi's fault. He had begun to recover alarmingly fast. Just as Grievous was entering the planetary atmosphere he had begun to stir. That had been unexpected. He did not want Kenobi to wake up unsecured. The minute they had landed, he had ordered that Kenobi be sedated.

Now all he had to do was wait until he received word that Kenobi had woken up. There was little to do in the meantime. The base had an extensive communications array, but who to contact? Lord Sidious had made it extremely clear that he would contact Grievous, not the other way around. He certainly wasn't going to waste his time talking to Gunray and his fellow slugs on Mustafar. Perhaps it was better not to contact anyone, considering where they were.

Grievous stepped out onto a large, but dilapidated balcony overlooking an abandoned industrial section of the city. Coruscant. The center of the hive. The last place that any sane Republic official would think to look for him. Surely General Grievous, galactic enemy number one, would not be so foolish as to hide on Coruscant, home of the Senate, and home of the Jedi.

Yet … that was what the Sith had been doing for centuries. In this very building, in fact. One of a hundred bases that they had scattered about the galaxy, Lord Sidious had taken to this one almost exclusively. He preferred to be closer to the center of things, where he could influence galactic politics. Grievous had no idea how he accomplished this, but he was glad. Information from Sidious had allowed them to take several key worlds from the Republic over the course of the war.

Except recently, the flow of information had slowed. The Republic had pushed them back to the outer extremes of the galaxy. It had seemed as though Lord Sidious had abandoned them. His only tip-off in recent months had been the security flaw that allowed them to capture the Chancellor, and that had proved a curse rather than a blessing.

Lately, Grievous mused, he had taken to wondering what he would do once the war was over. For it was inevitable now. Even if Sidious managed to turn Kenobi and Skywalker. He certainly wasn't going to set them up as replacements for Count Dooku. No, it was likely that Sidious would make the final push to take control of the Republic on his own, without the Confederacy.

The idea did not bother Grievous nearly as much as it should have. Despite being its de facto leader, he did not care about the ideals of the Confederacy. Free trade, exclusive marketing rights, and abolished tariffs meant little to him. He was no merchant. He was a killer. It was how he had been built, how he had always been. They had made him a slave, a weapon to be used in peace or war. And now, even though he had risen from slave to Master, he remained unchanged. Killing was what he did, what he was interested in. He was good at it.

And none offered greater challenge than the Jedi. He hunted them for sport, because they were the only ones he deemed worthy to fight. He had killed so many over the years that he had grown to hate them. He wanted them all dead. It was why he followed Sidious. Sidious had said that the Jedi were to be exterminated. He wanted to be a part of that, to stand triumphant amid the ruins of the Jedi Temple, his enemies slain at his feet. Let Sidious have the galaxy. He, Grievous, would be content.

And when the Jedi were all dead, he would find a new race to hate and new enemies to kill. So he would go on, until he finally met his match. Whether that would be in a year, ten years, or a hundred, he didn't know. He would endure. It was his lot in the galaxy.

He heard a faint noise behind him, and whirled around. A timid-looking Sullustan male, who did not even come up to Grievous's waist, stood behind him. His black eyes were dulled with exhaustion and fright. He was quivering, in awe of the towering cybrog before him. "M … M …My Lord," he stammered.

"What?" Grievous snapped, and the Sullustan flinched as though struck. "Why do you disturb me?"

"Y … You requested n… notification when the p…prisoner awoke, My Lord," the Sullustan stammered.

Grievous immediately forgot his musings. So Kenobi was awake. No doubt feeling confused and none too well. Perhaps a little visit from his host would perk him up.

He swept past the Sullustan without a second look and stalked down the corridor toward the turbolift that would take him down to the cells. A few terrified beings flattened themselves against the wall as he passed. There were about twenty of these humans and aliens in the building, all bearing varying signs of abuse. In a few of the eyes defiance smoldered, in others all hope was gone. Each of them had a faint scar on the back of their neck where an explosive device had been planted. They were slaves.

Paying them no heed, Grievous entered the turbolift and began to descend. He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

He awoke to darkness.

At first he was not sure if he had awakened at all, or if he was still in the shadowy dream that he had been enduring. His eyes could not penetrate more than a slight distance into the blackness. Yet he could feel. His face lay against something smooth and cool. The floor, most likely. But why was he on the floor? Where was he? How did he get here?

He pushed himself up, trying to rise. Something clinked in the darkness. His arms and legs felt heavier than usual. He scrabbled to his feet, and the clinking noise came again.

He put his hands to his face to relieve the sudden throbbing in his head that had come when he had risen. His hands felt rough against the cool skin of his face. Warm too. There was warmth on his face where his hand had touched. He ran his fingers over the warmth. It was liquid. Blood. He was injured.

He could not remember how he had gotten here. He could not remember anything. He could not even remember his own name. What was it? It started with an O … yes, Obi-Wan, that was it. Obi-Wan Kenobi. He expected that name to trigger a release of memories, but it didn't.

Gingerly, he stepped forward. He still couldn't see anything. Another step. And another. When he tried to move again, he heard felt resistance and heard the clinking noise again. Something was holding him back.

He tried to pull again. The resistance held firm. He gave a ferocious tug, but all that did was send a fresh wave of pain through his head. Something was attached to both his arms and his legs that was preventing him from going forward.

He ran the fingers of his right hand over his left wrist. There was a metal band on it, and attached to the band was something else, a long series of interlocked rings. A chain. He was chained.

There was a slight groove along the band on his wrist. That must be where the manacle unlocked. He tried to pry it open. No such luck. It was sealed tight.

There must be a way to open it. Something easy. Something he was missing. He had power, he remembered. Power to unlock this chain.

_The Force_, a voice in his head whispered.

Yes, of course! The Force! How could he have forgotten? He was a Jedi, he could unlock these chains with his mind!

Eagerly he reached out with perceptions, trying to feel the mechanism that controlled the manacle and unlock the chain. He couldn't. There was something blocking him. He tried again, more urgently. Still he could not touch it. He could feel nothing.

A resonating, mocking voice sounded from somewhere in front of him. "The drugs are working then, yes?"

Drugs? How could drugs be doing this to him? What was the voice talking about? He looked up. There was a faint beam of light coming from a crack in the blackness. A door had been opened. Obi-Wan immediately shielded his eyes. The light was not bright, but after so long in the dark, Obi-Wan's eyes could not handle it just yet.

When he removed his hands from his eyes, he found himself staring into a pair of sickly yellow eyes. A hulking figure was standing a few meters away from him, the eyes burning from where its face should be. He had seen those eyes before.

"No doubt you are still disoriented," the voice continued. "I gave you quite a beating back on Utapau."

Beating? Utapau? What was …

It all came rushing back to him like a thunderbolt. He had been sent on a mission to Utapau to apprehend the Separatist General. There had been a fight, a chase, and finally another fight in which he had been knocked unconscious. He must have been captured, and now was being held prisoner. The images rushed back into his brain, a disorienting jumble of light and color. That made the figure in front of him …

"Grievous!" he spat, and the droid general chuckled.

"Very good, Kenobi. Perhaps you are not as damaged as I thought. You have remarkable fortitude, for a human. What do you think of your current position?"

Obi-Wan walked toward Grievous until the chains pulled tight. "It's obvious that I'm a prisoner, but I can't say much else. But since you seem to know so much, why don't you _illuminate_ me? Shed a little _light_ on the situation?"

Grievous laughed again. "Very bold of you, Kenobi, to speak like that when you have so little power right now. Light? I'm afraid not. Certain people seem to think that you've had too much light in your life. They think it would be better if you learned to embrace darkness, for a change."

"What people?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"You can't believe that I'd tell you that," Grievous said, "Draw your own conclusions. It's something that you don't get to do enough, mindlessly carrying out the decrees of the Jedi Council."

Obi-Wan felt a flash of hot anger. Who was Grievous to say such a thing? He was no mindless pawn of the Jedi Council.

_Calm down_, he warned himself, _Grievous probably said that specifically to bait you. Don't trust anything he says_.

Grievous was right; he had no power right now. The best thing to do was to try and gather as much information as he could. A calm demeanor might trick Grievous into giving something away.

"So what are you planning to do with me?" he asked coolly, not really expecting an answer. "Obviously I'm not here for a pleasure trip. Are you planning to interrogate me, or is this just revenge for me slicing you open?"

Grievous's enjoyment vanished. He took a menacing step toward Obi-Wan, who held his ground. "You're very lucky, Kenobi, that you're wanted alive and undamaged. I would dearly love to pay you back for that, and if you continue to press me, I may forget myself."

"Alive and undamaged?" Obi-Wan laughed coldly, forgetting his decision to stay calm. "Are you planning on selling me to a bounty hunter? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. General Grievous, stooping to the level of common fringe scum …"

Grievous drew back his arm and punched him across the face. Obi-Wan's head snapped to the side, and stars exploded in his field of vision, but he did not fall. He turned back to face Grievous, spitting blood. The General drove his other fist into Obi-Wan's gut. The impact forced him to his knees, but he kept his gaze fixed on Grievous.

The General glared down at him, hate burning in his eyes. He spoke softly, his voice carrying a deadly edge.

"You do not realize just how alone you are, Kenobi. You vanished without a trace on Utapau. Your Jedi friends and clone comrades believe that you are dead. The pitiful power you call the Force has been taken from you. You have, in effect, ceased to exist. And now you lie here, at my mercy. You are defeated. You have failed. You are weak."

Obi-Wan glared up at his enemy, his face inscrutable. His honed mental armor had endured Grievous's relentless mocking. None of the previous taunts had rattled him significantly. But now a thin barb had forced its way through a tiny chink in the armor, piercing deep in his mind. Three words that had hit him as hard as any lightsaber ever could.

_You are weak._

He had endured the taunt before. It had burned in the Sith apprentice's eyes when he had cut down Obi-Wan's master. Count Dooku had mocked him with it when he had dueled with him on Geonosis. Other enemies on other worlds had thrown it at him. Yet they had all died. Their taunt had died on their lips as they fell, succumbing to death themselves. And he had arisen, stronger for their jeers; stung, but not broken. He had proved them all wrong.

Until now. He knelt here, chained like an animal under the yoke of a cruel master. His life, his liberty, and his strength had been taken from him. Even the Force, his eternal ally, had deserted him, blocked by Grievous's drugs. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

_You are weak._

Kneeling on the cold stone floor, he forced himself to look into Grievous's sickly yellow eyes. They glared at him out of that skull-like face which, though incapable of movement, was inwardly sneering. He felt a rush of emotion that he had rarely experienced, and never so strongly. It was not anger. It was hatred.

_I swear on my life, Grievous_, he vowed silently, _that I will escape these chains you have placed on me. And when I do, I will kill you._

_NO!_ His Jedi side screamed at him. _Anger and hatred are of the Darkside! You cannot kill for vengeance, or strike an enemy down in cold blood. It is against the will of the Force!_

What had come over him? For a moment he had completely lost control. Years of Jedi training and discipline had been swept aside because Grievous had uttered a single sentence. He could never allow such emotions to consume him again. The cost was much too high. He vaguely recalled something Yoda had told him as a youngling long ago: _Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you, it will. A monster, you will become._

Grievous was unnerved. For a moment, he could have sworn that the Jedi's features had contorted and his eyes had blazed yellow. But he must have imagined it. Kenobi's eyes were still blue, and his face straight. He looked slightly shaken, but other than that he was perfectly normal, minus the blood running down his face.

"No witty response, Kenobi? Surely you can't be broken that easily."

Obi-Wan gave himself a mental shake. He could not give Grievous another opening.

He finally spoke calmly. "You are being exceedingly arrogant, Grievous, and making far too many assumptions. Vanished without a trace? Jedi can detect things that you cannot, Grievous. No doubt they are tracking you now. If I know my former padawan, it is very unlikely that he will believe me dead. When the Jedi discover you here, you will not be able to run like the coward you are. You will have to fight, or you will fall."

As he spoke, an image came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. It had taken place a lifetime ago, but now it seemed as clear as though it had just happened. Sabé stood in the doorway of her apartment, brown eyes full of happiness and worry. Her red dress glowed slightly in the afternoon sun. The delicate skin of her face was moist with tears. Her long hair fell to her waist, so thick and smooth. His fingers caressed the empty air, as though he could feel his hands sliding through it. She was with him now, he could feel it, his lone remaining perception that had lingered, when even his bond with Anakin had been shut out. She would be scared. She needed him to be strong. He would be strong.

Grievous raised his hand to bring it down on Obi-Wan's head, but this time he was ready. As the General's arm fell, he reached up and grabbed Grievous's arm, accosting its progress. He shoved out, forcing the General to step back to keep his balance.

Grievous's eyes blazed with rage. Reaching into his cloak, he drew out a long, deadly looking syringe. "You still have fight left, Kenobi. But that can be remedied. There are many ways to make you hurt without damaging you unduly. As for your former student, I fear young Skywalker will soon be facing his own trial. You are alone. We have long hours ahead of us, and no one to hear you scream."

Obi-Wan stood firm. He knew what was coming. It would be brutal. Without the Force it would be difficult to handle. But he was not alone. He had strength now and he could endure. Sabé would not be hurt again. He would protect her; she would not suffer again because of him. He would not succumb to darkness or death while she gave him light.

So full was his mind of love for Sabé that he barely registered the sickening pain of the needle being plunged into his arm. Her face swam in front of him, obscuring that of Grievous, and her soothing voice echoed in his ears, so that he could not hear his enemy's taunts. He burned as Sabé's warmth met the cold fire of the drug searing through his veins. Love and hate; warm and cold; and light and dark all whirled into one, and Obi-Wan Kenobi knew no more.

* * *

Senator Padmé Amidala wound her way through the twisting corridors of Five Hundred Replica toward her apartment. Though she still carried herself with her natural grace and stateliness, it was requiring considerable effort to maintain the illusion. She was exhausted. Since presenting the petition signed by the 'Delegation of Two Thousand' to the Chancellor yesterday, nothing had gone right. Her office had been swamped with calls from bureaucratic officials and businessmen, all of whom desired a meeting with her, as quickly as possible, please. She had been so busy rushing from appointment to appointment, taking calls and still attending legislative meeting that she had not had time to go home. She had slept at her desk, only to awakened in the middle of the night by the buzzing of her comm. She had faced the rest of the day on four hours of sleep, and only now had she been able to get away. She was desperate for a hot shower and a long night's rest, but more than anything she wanted to see Anakin. She had not seen him since the meeting with Palpatine, and she knew one night with him would revive her far more than anything else.

The lights of a thousand buildings and speeders shone through the windows of the hall, illuminating the door of Sabé's apartment as she passed. She passed it quickly, not wanting to disturb her. It was late, after all, and Sabé deserved her rest. She had not seemed well when Padmé had last seen her.

She reached the door of her apartment, and pulled out her key to unlock it. To her surprise, she discovered that it was unlocked. That was never the case. Sabé, Ellé, and Moteé always remembered to the lock the door. Cautiously, she pushed it open and stepped inside.

Her worries vanished when she reached the living room. Seated on the couch was Anakin, holding a portable holographic projector. He did not look up when Padmé entered the room. He gave no sign that he was even aware of her presence. All his attention was fixed on the image of a clone commander was hovering over the projector, talking to Anakin in a low voice. Padmé froze just into the room, straining to hear the words.

" … and my men have run a detailed sweep over a ten kilometer area. We found the beast he was using for transport, but nothing else. I also checked with the flagship, to see if they detected any craft leaving the planet. Nothing."

Anakin nodded in what appeared to be resigned acceptance. "What about the landing pad you discovered? Did scanning find traces of anything?"

"Nothing definitive. Scrap metal and scorch marks, mostly. They did find traces of blood on the pad, but the samples had been contaminated. There's no way to tell who it belonged to."

Anakin ran a hand over his face. "Thank you, Cody. I appreciate the effort. I know that it's a burden, but if there's anything else you can do …"

"Don't worry about it, Anakin. None of us consider this a waste of time. We're about to send down a team investigate the sinkhole, have aquatic troopers drag the bottom. It may yield something, but I can't say I'm optimistic."

"I just can't accept it," Anakin said, "I can't believe that he's gone."

Cody bowed his head. "Neither can I, Anakin. I've spent all of my off duty hours down with the teams, searching. But it's been over fifty hours. If there were anything to find, we would have found it by now. We have to start being realistic."

His expression changed, a glimmer of hope shining through the grim mask. "I don't suppose you've … felt anything? Anything that would give us reason to believe he's still alive?"

Anakin shook his head. "Nothing. I've been trying constantly, but I can't feel him at all. All I can sense is a void where he should be. It's like he's been torn away."

Cody's face fell, the glimmer that had been there extinguished. "I see. Well, I'll keep you informed of any new developments."

Anakin nodded. "Please do. Thank you, Cody."

The hologram vanished. Anakin let the device slip out of his grasp. It fell to the floor with a thud. His shoulders slumped forward, and he placed his face in his hands.

Padmé tentatively made her way over to Anakin's side. She sat down beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He did not look up. She could not even tell if he knew she was there.

"Anakin," she said softly.

Anakin looked up. His eyes were dry, but there was a deep pain in them, mixed with uncertainty. Rarely had she seen him like this. Her protective instincts came into play immediately, and she brought him in close. What could possibly be causing him such distress?

"What's wrong, Ani?" she asked him as she stroked his head.

Anakin looked up, and for a moment Padmé thought he was going to pour out his problem to her. But then his expression hardened. "Nothing," he said. "It's nothing."

Anakin was not a very good liar, and for someone who knew him as well as Padmé, it was easy to see through his feeble attempt. Taking his hands in hers, she looked him straight in the eye, letting him know she meant business. "That's a lie, Ani, and we both know it. I saw you talking to Cody. Something's wrong. You can't hide it from me, but if you tell me, I may be able to help you."

Anakin jerked his hands away and stood up. "I told you, it's NOTHING!"

He stormed away toward the window. Padmé remained on the couch, feeling shocked. Anakin's angry denial had hurt her, and made her even more worried. Anakin never tried to hide his troubles from her. Why was he so unresponsive now? Was it that he didn't trust her to help him, or that his burden was so painful that he couldn't share it with anyone, even his wife?

Getting up from the couch, she walked over to the window and stood a few paces behind him. He didn't look at her, but glared stonily out at the lights of Coruscant's night. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, but otherwise he made no move.

"Anakin," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "If you don't want to tell me that's … that's all right. I just thought it might help if you had someone to confide in. I … I'm sorry if I was wrong."

Anakin did not respond. He gave no indication that he had heard her. Blinking back sudden tears, Padmé turned to leave, intending to give him privacy.

Just as she was about to enter the bedroom Anakin spoke quietly. "I don't want to worry you."

"You don't want to worry me?" Padmé cried. She sprinted back to Anakin and turned him to face her. She grabbed both of his hands and held them to her. "Anakin, you're worrying me now! There's something troubling you, but you're shutting me out! It isn't like you, and that's making me worry! If you don't want me to worry, tell me what's going on! _Please_!"

Anakin looked shocked at her outburst. Padmé knew that she looked desperate, but she didn't care. She didn't want her husband keeping things from her, especially things that were causing him so much grief. She wanted to help; she needed to help, for both of their sakes.

Anakin finally nodded. Taking a deep breath, he looked her straight in the eye.

"Obi-Wan is missing."

"What?" Padmé hadn't expected this. Obi-Wan had told her that he was going on a mission to apprehend Grievous, but she hadn't expected it to go wrong. Obi-Wan had such a high record of success in all kinds of missions, even extremely dangerous ones, that she had fully expected him to return unscathed.

Anakin nodded again, his voice remarkably steady. "We lost contact with him over a day ago. His signal beacon isn't transmitting, and I can't feel him in the Force." He indicated the handheld communicator. "Cody hasn't been able to find any trace of him."

Padmé felt a chill spread through her. No wonder Anakin had been upset. Such news was a severe blow. Obi-Wan had been Anakin's friend and mentor for thirteen years, one constant in an ever-changing galaxy. They were closer than the level of normal friendship; they were closer than brothers. Though she was not as close to Obi-Wan as Anakin, she knew him very well and considered him to be a very a good friend. He couldn't be gone.

And yet, it certainly didn't look good. From what Anakin had told her, there was not much hope of there being a mistake. Signal beacons did not easily malfunction, and Jedi Force Bonds were nearly impossible to break. The level of risk associated with a mission to apprehend someone as deadly as General Grievous was extraordinarily high. There was a large possibility that even a Jedi as skilled as Obi-Wan could fail.

"Ani," she said shakily. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I just can't believe it," Anakin said. "I didn't feel him die. He just … disappeared. I feel like I would know if something had happened to him, yet I can't sense anything. And with so much evidence pointing in that direction …"

His sentence tailed off. He didn't need to finish it. Padmé knew that logical reasoning left little doubt as to Obi-Wan's fate.

"I'm sure he's all right," she said soothingly.

"I know!" Anakin exclaimed. "He has to be! Grievous couldn't finish him; we've bested him before. I can find him! But the Council …"

His face suddenly became angry. "This is all their fault," he snarled. "They wouldn't let me go with him. I tried to convince them, but they told me my place was here. Only Master Windu thought what I was saying had merit, but he told me Obi-Wan could handle himself. I believed him." His fists clenched.

"I shouldn't have listened to him. I know he meant well, but he just didn't understand. On a mission as dangerous as this, Obi-Wan needed help. But the Council didn't trust me, and now Obi-Wan's missing."

The vehemence in Anakin's tone surprised Padmé. She knew Anakin had had plenty of disagreements with the Council over the years, but now he seemed almost mutinous. She didn't know what to say, so she pulled him into an embrace. He was tense, and she could feel anger radiating from him.

She finally spoke nervously. "Ani, I know that that you are angry with the Council's decision …"

"Don't defend them," Anakin snapped, pulling away. "Not you. They don't deserve it. After all they've done, this …"

The door slid open, and Anakin cut himself off in mid-sentence. He and Padmé both looked anxiously toward the door. Someone had entered the apartment. Anakin's hand flew to his lightsaber, but he stopped when he saw who it was.

Sabé entered the living room, looking tired, but also apprehensive. She stopped a few paces into the room, her gaze heading first to Anakin, then Padmé, then back to Anakin. Padmé sighed, her posture relaxing. "Sabé. I thought you would be asleep by now."

"I was just coming to check in, My Lady," Sabé looked around the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Relax, Sabé," Padmé said, forcing a smile. "In fact, we were discussing something, but it's …"

She cast a nervous glance at Anakin, who shook his head. "But it's nothing," he finished.

Sabé studied both of their faces intently. "No, it's not nothing," she said. "I heard raised voices earlier, and you both look worried. What's going on?"

Padmé turned an inquiring look to Anakin. For a moment, he hesitated, and then finally he sighed resignedly. "A report from the Council. Obi-Wan's missing."

Padmé had expected Sabé to be surprised at the news. She had expected her expression to become fearful and for her to assault them with questions. She was not prepared for what happened next.

All the blood drained from Sabé's face. Her hands rose to her mouth, which had fallen open in horror. She staggered backward suddenly, bumping into the couch and collapsing onto it, her expression shocked and terrified.

"Sabé!" Padmé cried, rushing over to her and grabbing her hands. "Sabé, are you alright?"

Anakin rushed over as well. Sabé's eyes did not seem to register either of them, but continued to stare blankly through them. It was if her mind had suddenly been transported light-years away, leaving her body behind.

"Sabé, answer me! Say something!" Padmé pleaded.

Padmé's plea finally seemed to bring Sabé out of her state of shock. Her eyes flickered from Padmé's, which were full of worry, to Anakin's, which showed great surprised at the enormity of her reaction. When she spoke, her voice trembled.

"Padmé … I'm so sorry. I just … I just …"

She swallowed noticeably then, turning to Anakin, she asked, "How did this happen? How long ago? Is he all right? He's not …"

Anakin held up a hand to stop her. "He was on a mission to Utapau to apprehend General Grievous. We lost contact over forty hours ago. Commander Cody hasn't been able to find any trace of him, and I can't feel him at all." He swallowed, his voice cracking slightly. "I don't think he's dead, but other than that, I don't know."

Sabé's looked down at her hands, which Padmé was still gripping tightly. Tears gathered in her eyes. Padmé stared at her with a mixture of worry and confusion. She knew that Sabé had always liked Obi-Wan, but surely that wasn't enough reason for her to be acting like this. Could it be … no, no it was too unlikely. And yet …

Yet the pain in Sabé's eyes now was far more profound than if she had lost a casual friend or acquaintance. It was if she had lost a physical part of her, or even worse, a part of her soul. Padmé had seen that look only once before. It had been in her own eyes, when she had heard a report from one of her fellow senators that Anakin had been killed in the Outer Rim Sieges. She had wandered around in a numbed stupor for hours, unconscious of time and everything else, her grief tearing her apart. Only when she had heard that the report had been inaccurate had she breathed again, immediately breaking down into tears of sweet relief. But the short time she had believed her husband to be lost had been the emptiest and darkest time of her life. Sabé looked every bit as lost as Padmé had felt.

Realization dawned on her. How could she not have seen it? Her best friend was in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Padmé had not even guessed at it. Now Obi-Wan was gone.

One glance at Anakin revealed that he had come to the same conclusion. He was gazing at Sabé now with something close to wonder, mixed with compassion and deep sympathy. Padmé felt tears rising in her eyes.

"He's can't … he can't be gone," Sabé cried, tears now falling freely down her face. "Not now." Her pleading eyes turned to Anakin. "Is there any hope that he's alive?"

Anakin turned away, unable to meet her gaze. "I wish I knew, Sabé. I wish I knew."

"No!" Sabé launched herself from the couch, running for the door. She couldn't stand it any longer.

Sabé was only a few paces away from escape when Padmé caught her. She pulled her sobbing cousin into a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered into Sabé's ear. "Just cry. It's all right."

Sabé struggled furiously against Padmé's grip for a few seconds, then all strength seemed to leave her and she collapsed, weeping against her shoulder. Padmé stroked her hair, whispering comfort into her ears. Tears were falling from Padmé's eyes now too, silently mingling with Sabé's as the two women clutched at each other for support.

Anakin made his way awkwardly over and placed his arms around his wife and Sabé. They melted against him, Sabé continuing to sob, and Padmé quietly weeping. He pulled them even closer, letting them use him as a pillar to hold themselves up. Anakin's own eyes shone with unshed tears, but he held them at bay. His stood strong, a look of grim resolve on his face, determined to hold them all together during this devastating time.

* * *

Please read and review!


	13. Seeds of Doubt

Here's chapter 13! Thank you everyone who reviewed for your comments. To **Taylor Hicks**, yes I used the dialouge from the movie for that one part because there was no point in changing it. All the character thoughts and descriptions of the action are mine. Hopefully that answers your question.**

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**Chapter 13**

He awoke to pain.

All his nerves were on fire. Lying on the cold floor of his cell, every inch of his body screamed in torment. The slight effort of sucking in a ragged breath tore at his insides like he had swallowed a knife. He was dead, he must be. No one could endure this and live. Yet if he was dead, he wouldn't be hurting, would he?

He moved his arms slightly, sending a fresh wave of agony coursing through his veins. In a furious movement, he brought them under his body and pushed himself to his knees. Every cell in his body cried in protest at the attempt, and he heard himself scream. Immediately he keeled over again, unable to support himself. He remained where he fell, panting in agony. Maybe he shouldn't try to move yet.

Lying on his back, Obi-Wan tried to direct his throbbing head to an activity that would not cause him to black out. _How about trying to find a part of your body that doesn't hurt?_

A short time later he stopped. No use. He was hurting in places he wasn't even aware had existed until now. He could feel every single bone, muscle, and tendon in his body crying out for relief. He tried futilely to draw upon the Force to ease his pain. He still could not reach it. It remained as inaccessible as ever.

He did not know how long he laid there, sucking in breath after painful breath. Ten minutes or ten hours, it meant little to him. Time was as absent as the Force.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain began to recede. Tenderly, he raised himself to his knees, and then to his feet. His legs shook badly beneath him. He was amazed that they were even able to support his weight. Despite the agony, he was not physically injured. Grievous had not crippled him in any way.

The General was nowhere to be seen. The door had been shut again, leaving Obi-Wan in total darkness. He could not see his hands, his body, or the cursed chains that bound him. He gave the chains another experimental tug. They were as sturdy as before. There was no way to break them using his own physical strength, even if he had been in peak condition at the moment. But as strong as they were, the chains were just linked metal rings. They had to have some kind of weakness.

Blindly, he began to feel his way backwards toward the wall of his cell, using the chains to guide him. After he had walked about ten feet, he reached it. Dropping to his knees again, he ignored the sharp stab of pain in his shaking legs and ran his hands over the wall, trying to locate the place the chains were bound to the wall. There.

There were two slightly raised areas on the otherwise smooth wall. The chains were bolted into these areas. It felt very secure. A few tugs at them confirmed his suspicions; the chains had been freshly installed. And those raised areas weren't just slabs of duracrete, they were control boxes. The chains were electrified. No wonder he felt terrible. Grievous must amused himself by shocking his prisoner's unconscious body, taking a sick pleasure in every spasmodic twitch.

Out of sheer frustration, Obi-Wan yelled. The sound did not reverberate back to him, but was swallowed by the blackness without an echo. He charged back toward the center of the room, stopping only when the jerk from the chains threatened to pull his arms out of their sockets. The sudden clinking stopped just as quickly.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. Shouting and pulling would get him nowhere. There was no one to hear him or help him. Perhaps if he simply sat down and meditated, he could clear his head and discover a solution to his problem.

He sat down, closed his eyes, and crossed his legs, trying to find his center. The darkness of his cell became less foreboding. He willed himself to relax pull himself inward, something for which he did not require the Force. He had perfected the art of meditation long ago.

Just when he could feel himself slipping away, a violently painful jolt surged throughout his entire body. His eyes snapped open and he looked wildly around, but of course, he saw nothing. The jolt must have been a surge from the remaining drug in his system, or a protest from his aching body at being kept in one position for so long.

Once again he found his center and began to immerse his conscious self in the soothing waves of his mind. His pain began to fade as he closed his eyes once more and willed himself to rest.

The jolt came again.

It was even more violent this time, actually causing a spasm that pulled him out of his cross-legged position. He lost contact again. This time, he felt a twinge in his wrists, coming from the manacle that bound him. A charge was pulsing through it. He was being electrocuted!

Determinedly, he jerked his mind back to its meditative state. He could overcome that. He had managed to meditate on an imploding battle cruiser once. Surely he could ignore a few petty shocks.

A third jolt hit him so hard that he blacked out for a moment. When he came to, he was curled in a ball on the floor, the manacles on his wrists buzzing with energy. The aftereffects of the shock held him in place for a few seconds, then released him. Obi-Wan lay sprawled on the floor.

He pulled himself to his feet once more. Apparently he wasn't allowed to meditate. Grievous knew that he would be his brain would be muddled, and he wasn't going to give him an opportunity to clear it. No doubt his condition would slowly worsen as he was denied rest. That would only make it easier for Grievous to push him to his breaking point.

A wave of unbidden anger swept through him at the thought of the mocking droid general who had become his captor and tormentor. How had he let this happen? Why hadn't he slain Grievous on Utapau, or better yet, on the _Invisible Hand_? The sequences of their duels flashed back to him. Twice he had seen openings in Grievous's defenses. But he hadn't taken them. He had felt they were too risky, and could easily result in him losing his arm or his head. When he had dropped from the ceiling of the Utapau hanger, he should have landed right on top of Grievous and beheaded him without banter. Yes, he would have likely been killed afterward, but the damned general would be scrap and with the clone army on the way, he might have been able to hold out long enough to survive.

Now, as he stood in the darkness of his cell, he cursed himself. Had he seized the moment, he could have destroyed his enemy. But out of fear, he had held back. And now he was paying the price. Grievous was right. He was weak.

_Stop! You're slipping again! Anger and aggression are of the Darkside. You are a Jedi, you value all life. To seek to preserve it is not weakness, and to desire to take it is not strength._

_Yes,_ a darker voice hissed somewhere in the back of his mind. _But if you had that the neck of that scum in your hands now, you'd crush it first and be philosophical later. And you know you would enjoy it. Don't even try to deny it._

He squashed the voice. Of course he wouldn't enjoy it. Jedi were not vindictive. Grievous was a threat to the Republic and needed to be destroyed, but that didn't mean he had to make it vengeful. He didn't hate Grievous. He would not hate Grievous. He would not hate anyone.

Yet … the same part of him that kept whispering these dark urges was taking a soothing pleasure at the thought of Grievous lying on the floor at his feet, crushed and beaten. His fingers twitched, and for a moment they tightened on air, squeezing the metal neck of the general, destroying the support structure, tearing the head from the body …

_Sabé …_

Immediately all thoughts of bloody vengeance disappeared as Sabé's beautiful face appeared to him again. She was standing right in front of him, her red dress shimmering, brown eyes shining with tears, long hair falling so gracefully down her back.

A calm spread through him, more complete than anything meditation could ever deliver. _Be strong … be strong for her … and for Anakin, for the Jedi, for the Republic …_

His aches and pains seemed to melt away, and the dark thoughts fled at the blinding light that emanated from Sabé. He could see again; her face was all he needed to see, and all he wanted to see. Nothing else was important now.

After a while Sabé faded, leaving him feeling lonely but also rejuvenated. His mind was clear again. Silently, he thanked Sabé. However far away she was, he wanted her to feel his love and to know that he was grateful.

The door to his cell slid open.

This time, Obi-Wan's eyes did not have to adjust; Sabé's light had far outshone the dim beam that emanated from the hall. A hulking figure entered his cell, leaving the door open a crack. Obi-Wan could make out the sickly yellow eyes glaring at him from a height of over two meters. So his host was paying him another visit. He did not feel exceptionally privileged.

"Have a nice sleep, Kenobi?" Grievous's rasping voice emanated from somewhere in front of him.

"Marvelous, Grievous," Obi-Wan said dryly. "You truly are running a quality establishment."

The General chuckled and bowed mockingly. "Only the best for a Jedi Master and a war hero."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "Enough with this bantha crap. What do you want?"

"Language, Kenobi," Grievous said, his eyes glittering dangerously. "If you are going to survive, respect will be a trait you must learn."

"Don't lecture me about virtues, Grievous. In most civilized systems torture is not viewed as acceptable. You are not worthy of anyone's respect."

"You are in no position to speak to me like that, Kenobi," Grievous snarled. "I control your life now, and I can make it very, very unpleasant. You thought you had endured pain before this? Think again."

"Torture will not break me, Grievous," Obi-Wan said stonily. "However much physical agony you inflict on me, it will never persuade me to tell you anything. I do not need the Force for strength."

To Obi-Wan's surprise, Grievous did not lash out. Nor did he appear angry. What he did was more disturbing than any threat he could have uttered.

He began to laugh.

"No," the General chuckled mockingly. "Of course you don't need the Force for strength. You've found a new power to tap into haven't you? Something so pure and good that it can give you light even in the darkest of times?" He made a hacking noise. "Tell me, how is dear Sabé?"

Obi-Wan immediately felt a shock of cold fear pass through him. No … no, it couldn't be. How could he know? How could Grievous know? They hadn't told anyone, not even Anakin, there hadn't been time …

"Yes," Grievous leered, still chuckling. "I know all about your little girlfriend."

"W … What?" He forced himself to speak, failing to keep his voice steady. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Grievous's voice lost all traces of mirth. "Don't play the idiot, Kenobi. It tries my patience. The Jedi may be blind to your doings, but _others_ are not."

Obi-Wan's mind was still whirling in shock. It didn't seem possible. He and Sabé had always been isolated during their time together. And they had only discovered their own feelings recently. Who could possibly have been aware of their growing affection? And who would tip Grievous off about it?

An even more disturbing thought occurred to him. If Grievous knew about Sabé, he could use her against him. He could hurt her. He could make her suffer. It was just the kind of thing he would do. He had to protect her. He must lie.

"You're wrong," he said flatly; all his strength needed to keep his voice steady. "I don't have any feelings for Sabé. It's against the Jedi code to have attachments."

"Ah, the Jedi Code," Grievous sneered. "Yes of course, you can never violate the sacred traditions of your order. _There is no passion, there is serenity_ and all that other supernatural garbage. You're right. If I were to take this woman and break her, crush her delicate neck in my fist, spill her blood on the floor, it would mean nothing to you. She would gasp; plead to you for help that you could not give, because it is the will of the Force that you remain free of emotion." Gently, he ran a clawed finger down his forearm, causing a screech of metal on metal. "I can picture it now, so easy, and it's only a matter of time …"

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Obi-Wan lunged at Grievous, ignoring the sharp jerk of the chains wrenching his arms. Warning bells rang in his mind, but he tuned them out. His eyes blazed with a fury that defied reckoning. He wanted to grab the General, gouge out those hateful eyes, crush that sneering face beneath his heel, and hear the tormented shriek of severed metal.

Grievous stood there tauntingly, half a meter out of Obi-Wan's reach, chuckling mockingly. "Ah, so you _do_ have some feelings for the little lady? You would love her? Protect her? _Avenge_ her, if necessary? Go on then. I who would have her die stand before you. Break free. Destroy me now, so that I can never trouble her. Harness your rage and save her!"

Obi-Wan gave another furious pull at his bonds. It was useless. No matter how hard he jerked his chains, they remained as unyielding as ever. He could not free himself with physical strength, and with the Force denied to him, he could not break them with his mind either. Still, he struggled with all of his might to get at Grievous, disregarding the voice of sanity in his head that pleaded with him to let go of his anger. He needed to break free. But he couldn't. He was too weak to defend her.

Despair swept through him, expunging his burning anger in its dark deluge. He slumped in bonds, letting the strength leave his limbs. He had failed. He couldn't get at Grievous. There was no point in resisting.

Contemptuously, Grievous jerked away from Obi-Wan. "You are pathetic, Kenobi. This woman matters so much to you, and yet you can't even bring yourself to break these meager shackles I have placed on you to defend her. Perhaps she is just not important enough to you. Perhaps you don't love her at all."

Obi-Wan stared at the floor, letting the accusations dig into him. He deserved them. He professed to love Sabé, but if he couldn't protect her from the monster in front of him, how could he make that claim? He felt a burning shame sweep through him. He had seen the way that Anakin loved Padmé. He would do anything for her. Were he in these chains, and Padmé's life was being threatened, he would have shattered them in an instant. But he, Obi-Wan, could not.

"Oh, don't feel bad, Kenobi," Grievous said. "You'll deal with it in time. And besides, was this woman really worth throwing away your vows to the Jedi Order and the Republic? After all, you really don't know her, do you? There is more to her than meets the eye. And not all of it is meant to be known."

"What are you talking about?" Obi-Wan muttered. He couldn't help himself; Grievous's tone unnerved him. Was there a secret Sabé had kept from him?

"What a strange story," Grievous sighed, his tone almost wistful. "The proud Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi rises to become a hero of the Clone Wars, a member of the Senior Jedi Council, and devoted servant of the Galatic Republic, only to fall in love …" his eyes blazed menacingly, "with a _traitor_."

"No!" Obi-Wan's head jerked up and his chains rattled again. "No! You're lying!"

"Denial is a comforting thing," Grievous shrugged. "But in the end, you find that it provides no protection from the glaring truth."

"You have no proof!" Obi-Wan snapped. He might be powerless, but would not have Sabé profaned in this manner. "You're trying to make me renounce her!"

Grievous chuckled and drew something from inside his cloak. "Oh, I wouldn't say that Kenobi. Perhaps you should hear the truth before you … ah … fly to defend fair lady's honor."

Obi-Wan regarded the object in Grievous's hand. It was a small holoprojector, about the size of his hand. It certainly didn't look worrying. But somehow, he felt a cold doubt gnawing at his stomach. Whatever information was contained in the projector should be left there.

Grievous flicked the device on. A 3-D image of an office shimmered into view. Obi-Wan recognized the layout as a Senatorial office. There were two people sitting in chairs around the room. One of them was Sabé.

Obi-Wan's stomach gave a lurch. Even seeing this small light-based image of Sabé was enough to unsettle him. He had recalled every detail of her face perfectly. The scene would have given him great comfort had he not been worried sick about what Grievous wanted him to see.  
Sabé looked agitated, and she was clutching a small envelope in her palm tightly, as though afraid it might vanish. He saw her glance nervously at the room's other occupant, who was heavily cloaked.

A receptionist appeared and led Sabé through a door. The camera jumped slightly, and now Sabé was standing in an office talking to someone. Bail Organa. Obi-Wan frowned. He knew Senator Organa well; the man was extremely committed to the Republic. Surely he would not be involved in anything treasonous.

Organa's image spoke. "Ah, Sabé, how are you? What brings you here?"

Sabé appeared to ease up a little. "Never mind me for a second. How are you? You look like you're about to fall asleep on your desk!"

Bail smiled. He certainly looked exhausted. "You're right. I've been distracted recently, with my wife's health and … other matters. I've been letting the bureaucratic duties slide, and I'm trying to catch up. Not an enjoyable experience, I assure you. They're all idiotic rich snobs with far more money than common sense and the preconceived notion that the Senate should revolve around their needs and no one else's. But enough of that. You didn't come here to have me bore you to death. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Sabé produced the envelope. "Senator Amidala requested that this be delivered to you."

All traces of weariness vanished from Bail's face instantly. He quickly took the envelope and opened it. He studied the contents. Obi-Wan's insides began to crawl again. What was in those documents that Padmé had entrusted to Sabé.

After a few minutes Bail looked up. He appeared to be exhilarated, as though he had been given an infusion of energy.

"I have eagerly been awaiting this," he informed Sabé. "I requested that Padmé do me a favor by designing the framework for an important group that we are trying to bring into fruition. She has not let me down; this is in fact better than I could have hoped for."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sabé said, "But if I may ask, Senator, what exactly are you talking about?"

Bail regarded her thoughtfully. "You have a right to know, but I think Padmé should be the one to tell you. I believe you are trustworthy, but unfortunately I do not have such confidence in certain members of my own staff. It would be too dangerous to reveal such information here, where other less friendly ears may be listening."

Sabé nodded, her gaze sweeping the room as she did so. For one second, she looked straight at Obi-Wan. The wary nervousness had returned. "I understand."

Bail produced a small envelope from a drawer and handed it to Sabé. "Please take this back to Padmé as quickly as you can. Once it is safely in her hands, tell her that I think it's safe to tell you everything."

Safe? Obi-Wan's heart, which was already beating very fast, jumped another ten beats a minute. Something was going on here. What was this group that Padmé and Bail were trying to create. And how was Sabé involved? He was sure that neither Senator would do anything disloyal to the Republic, but why would Grievous want him to see this otherwise?

He turned to Grievous. "This proves absolutely nothing. For all you know, the Senators could be trying to form a committee to discuss traffic laws. And Sabé seems to be nothing more than a courier. If this is all you have …"

"Oh, there's more, Kenobi," Grievous chuckled. "Much more."

The image jumped again. Sabé was standing in a hallway, looking more agitated than ever. But she wasn't alone. There was a tall, cloaked figure with her. Obi-Wan recognized him as the other occupant of Senator Organa's office. He was holding something and staring at it intently through goggled eyes.

With a jolt, Obi-Wan realized that the thing in cloaked man's hand was the envelope Bail had given Sabé. How had he gotten it? The man did not look trustworthy in the least. Surely Sabé hadn't _given_ it to him, when Bail had told her to give it only to Padmé?

Sabé spoke sharply, and the man returned the envelope to her. He stared hard at her for a few moments, until Sabé turned and fled up the corridor, leaving the man standing there alone.

"This is riveting entertainment, Grievous," Obi-Wan said dryly. "But that little clip is just as inconclusive as the first."

"Yet again, you fail to draw the obvious conclusion, Kenobi." Grievous said coldly. "You don't know who that man is, do you? He is a special agent. _Our_ agent."

Immediately Obi-Wan's chest constricted. "You mean …"

"Yes," Grievous hissed, his yellow eyes flashing malevolently. "His name is Mirthrada Nurrodo, and he has been providing the Confederacy with information on the inner workings of the Republic since the war began."

"No." Obi-Wan's throat was dry, and he trembled as he spoke. "This isn't true. Sabé is _not_ collaborating with you people. She's not!"

"Perhaps you should she the nature of what the information she was carrying before you pass judgment," said Grievous.

Once more he manipulated the projector. A new image grew into focus. It was a scaled holo of Senator Bail Organa. He spoke hurriedly, in a hushed voice. Clearly he did not want this message to be picked up by surveillance.

"Padmé, the situation is becoming more urgent. I fear it is only a matter of time before the Chancellor moves to place the Senate under his personal control. We cannot allow him to succeed, not matter what the cost. He is too powerful already. We must find a way to meet and discuss our options. If the necessity demands it, we may have to take advantage of Nurrodo's offer. I know that this may seem to run counter to our principles, but destabilizing Palpatine is crucial. Remember, keep the circle of knowledge as small as possible; the more who know, the greater the risk of a security breach. It is imperative that we are not compromised. Continue to use Sabé as our courier, she will not betray us."

The image winked out. Obi-Wan stared determinedly at the floor, refusing to meet Grieovus's eye. The taste of bile was rising in his throat.

It had to be a lie. Sabé, Padmé, and Bail were all ferociously loyal to the Republic. They would never make any kind of deal with the Separatists, no matter how much Palpatine's increasing power upset them. The footage he had just been shown could have been altered or foraged. This was simply a new way for Grievous to torture him.

Yet the dark voice in his head whispered to him still. He was grasping at straws, and he knew it. How well did he really know this woman for whom he had fallen so deeply? How well did he know what Padmé and Bail would do to do what they thought was right?

Could he trust anyone at all?

Another thought occurred to him. Anakin couldn't know about this. His closeness to Palpatine would have prevented Padmé from including him in any plot against the Chancellor. Yet he was so deeply in love with Padmé that it would be easy for her to conceal something from him. Could he have been played for a fool as well? Was he blinding himself concerning Sabé?

He heard that infuriating chuckle again. Grievous knew what he was thinking. And the twisted scum was enjoying watching his prisoner go through this mental agony.

"I don't believe you," he said coldly. He would not give Grievous the satisfaction of knowing the damage his words had done. "I may be blind concerning this woman, but I will never take your word over hers."

"So you say," Grievous shrugged. "Sooner or later cold reality will overwhelm your persistent dreamland. But for now, I'm afraid, our conversation is over."

The needle penetrated his skin before he could summon any strength to resist. Agony took a hold of him, and he collapsed on the floor, plunging back into the void.

* * *

Grievous stepped away from the contorted Jedi Master and made his way out of the cell. At the doorway he summoned two of his guards. "Stand guard here for awhile. When he stops twitching, inject his nutrients and then lock him up again." 

The guards saluted, snapping their electrostaves to their chests. Grievous swept past them and boarded the elevator. Kenobi was a tough one to crack, but a few more days of this treatment would be enough to break even his will. These human types were easy to manipulate once you had them isolated. Their kind needed their attachments as much as food, water, and light. If you could break those attachments, they would collapse and you could mold them as you pleased.

Kenobi did not have as many attachments as normal humans, but all those he did have were very strong. There was his sad devotion to this woman, which Grievous had already begun to whittle away at. There was his fanatical loyalty to the Jedi Order and the Republic. Those wouldn't be too hard once he had a little more time to work at Kenobi's defenses. He already bore resentment toward the Jedi Council, and incriminating evidence against the Republic was as easy to find as hawk-bat droppings in Coruscant's undercity.

Kenobi's last attachment, his friendship with Anakin Skywalker, would be the toughest to break. Not only were the two men closer than brothers, but Lord Sidious intended to have them both as servants. It wouldn't do for the heirs to the Sith legacy to be out for each other's blood. As Lord Sidious had said, they would need to break their bonds, but in such a way that they could be re-forged in the power of the Darkside.

The elevator door slid open, and Grievous stalked out, heading for the communications center. Lord Sidious would be calling shortly for a progress report.

As he made his way down the hall, a female slave darted out in front of him, making for a door across the hall. Too late, she noticed her proximity to the General and tried to reverse course. She ploughed into him, knocking herself the floor.

For a moment, Grievous paused, regarding the cowering woman at his feet. His sensors could detect her increased heart rate, rapid breathing, and quivering limbs. She lay huddled in a ball, clearly expecting to be beaten.

Grievous toyed with the idea of striking her for her inattentiveness. It wasn't worth wasting time and energy on one like her. Lord Sidious was expecting him at any minute. Besides, he could always punish her later. She wasn't going anywhere.

Stepping over the huddled figure, he swept on down the hallway without a backwards glance. Arriving at the communications hub, he shut the door and was about to lock it when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A Sullustan slave was here, wiping down the controls.

"OUT!" Grievous bellowed.

The slave jumped up in terror and bolted from the room, abandoning his cleaning materials. Greivous locked the door behind him. You couldn't move around here without stepping on one of these things.

There was a green light pulsing on the main array. Grievous walked over to it, pressed the button, and then knelt. A life-size image of Darth Sidious rose before him.

"What is your command, Lord Sidious?" Grievous asked.

"What is Kenobi's status?" Sidious asked shortly. "Have you made any headway?"

"I believe so, My Lord," Grievous said. "He puts up quite a show of strength, but he is beginning to show signs of cracking. The _altered_ files that you provided were particularly distressing to him."

A smile twitched at the corner of Sidious's mouth. "Yes, I thought he might respond to those. Continue with them; I have several more for you once you have finished."

"However," Grievous responded, "he does not appear to be affected by the pain-enhancing drugs unduly. They hurt him, yes, but they will not cause him to break. If you would let me try a more forceful method …"

Sidious's voice became as cold as ice. "We have been over this matter already, General. Kenobi is not to be physically damaged. I know that you are eager to avenge your injuries at his hands, but he is not being held so that you can toy with him. I thought you were component enough to understand that. I will remind you once again that his life is far more valuable to me than your own."

Grievous was glad that his metal face was incapable of showing emotion, because he burned with anger. He already wanted Kenobi dead, and now he was being given even more reason to desire this end. He had bested the Jedi in combat, but Sidious still believed that the scum was more worthy of honor than he was. Had he not known what Sidious would do to him if Kenobi died, he would have murdered him right then and there. He had seen the look in Kenobi's eyes as he taunted him. Whether Sidious had intended it or not, the Jedi was beginning to hate Grievous intensely. He might not be aware of it yet, but once he was, he would become a serious threat.

Deep down, Grievous knew the truth. He was afraid of Kenobi. If Sidious's plan succeeded, he would become expendable. And after all he had put Kenobi through, the Jedi would never let him live.

All his life he had been the hunter. He had no intention of becoming prey.

He inclined his head. "I understand, My Lord."

"You had better," Sidious snapped. "At present, my duties are keeping me occupied, but very soon I will be coming to take the final step. I expect you to have Kenobi ready by then, or you will suffer my displeasure."

"I will not fail you, My Lord."

"I expect nothing less."

Sidious's image disappeared, and Grievous rose from his kneeling position. His master had spoken, and he would obey. It would not be wise to anger the Dark Lord of the Sith. But he had no intention of letting Obi-Wan Kenobi catch him unprepared. Even the power of the Darkside would not be the end of him.

Pushing the door open, he stormed off down the corridor. He had work to do.

* * *


	14. High Betrayal

**Chapter 14**

Anakin paced the Archives of the Jedi Temple. He did not know how long he had been walking, and he had lost count of the number of disapproving glances that Jocasta Nu had thrown his way. He was absorbed in his thoughts, and nothing else mattered at the moment. His mind was a place where he could hide his true feelings; his worries, his anger, his guilt. No one, not even Obi-Wan, had ever been able to truly understand what he concealed in his haven.

It was a haven no longer.

Rounding the corner of a stack of shelves, he made his way down a long, deserted aisle. Lately his once-impenetrable defense had been weakening as he took hits that he could not ignore. First it had been the ordeal on the _Invisible Hand_, then his less-than warm reception to the Jedi Council. The vision of Padmé's death and the dark figure that continued to haunt his dreams. And now, the loss of his best friend and the only father figure he had ever known.

He still couldn't accept that Obi-Wan was gone. Though it had now been almost a week since he had disappeared, Anakin refused to let go. If he allowed his memory of Obi-Wan to slip away, then his darkening world would fade to black.

The news of Obi-Wan's disappearance had sent a deep shock throughout the Order. Many Jedi had fallen over the course of the war, but no one had entertained the possibility that Obi-Wan Kenobi could ever be among them. He and Anakin had built such legendary reputations that many of the younglings believed that they were invincible, and some of the Knights had not been to far from that belief either. No matter how many enemies opposed them, no matter how dark the situation, Obi-Wan and Anakin would emerge victorious, and come home safely.

Now that belief had been shattered. The Masters were being very careful to prevent the younglings, as well as the general populace, from learning what had happened. Few had been aware of the mission to Utapau, but those who did know were being given strict orders not to discuss it. Anakin could not blame them for trying to keep it quiet; the situation could quickly spiral out of control if too many people knew. Yet those who had spoken about it did not seem to maintain any hope that Master Kenobi might have survived. Every time they spoke about him, especially to Anakin, it was in the hushed voice of a mourner remembering a lost comrade. Their pessimistic attitude had angered Anakin so much that he had taken to avoiding the Temple altogether.

He paused halfway down the aisle. It was funny; the Jedi Archives contained millions of files, a greater wealth of information than any other archive in the known galaxy, yet not one of those files could help him. He recalled faintly how Obi-Wan had encountered the same problem three years ago, searching for a planet that according to these files, did not exist. Now he, Anakin, was searching for something too. Something that the Archives could not help him with, something that everyone else believed lost.

Unbidden, the images of two days ago flashed into his mind. The last time he had seen Padmé and Sabé, when the three of them had held each other for support in the wake of Obi-Wan's disappearance. Never before had he considered that someone might be as upset by Obi-Wan's disappearance as he was, but Sabé's reaction to the news had stunned him. Despair like that did not stem from casual friendship. Sabé deeply cared for Obi-Wan. No, it was beyond that. She was in love with Obi-Wan. How could he not have seen it? Obi-Wan had never mentioned Sabé's interest. Could he have been unaware of it? Did he know about, and had shunned her? Or, was it possible that he had actually returned her affections?

A disbelieving laugh escaped Anakin's lips. Here he was, standing in the Hall of Archives, thinking about his former master's love life. It would be just like Obi-Wan not to mention Sabé. The perfect Jedi, showing nothing but devotion to duty. The thought of Obi-Wan concealing something like this from the Council was difficult to imagine. Yet, even after all the years they had known each other, Obi-Wan had always managed to surprise him. In this case, they had both been breaking the same rule, and were perfectly unaware of it.

Anakin's mind darkened. Since Obi-Wan's disappearance, he had been experiencing the vision even more frequently than before. Now, it would haunt him during the day as well as the night. He was finding it harder and harder to look at Padmé, fearing that at any moment, her beautiful, vibrant face would be obscured by the agony that stole her life and tore his heart to pieces. His Padmé. His wife. His reason for existence. He couldn't image life without her. Yet he had never imagined life without Obi-Wan either. If Obi-Wan could die, his angel could too. And that would destroy him.

Anakin's eyes stung with tears, and he hastily wiped his hand across them. There was still hope. Obi-Wan was just missing. And Padmé didn't have to die; there was still the power to save her. The power Palpatine had offered to teach him.

Why? Why hadn't he gone to Palpatine yet and requested the knowledge? There it was, ready for the taking, yet he held back. The lure of the Darkside did not worry him. He had faced his darkness before and never fallen. In a sense, he was intrigued by it, because it was forbidden. The feeling of invincibility that entered him with his anger was intoxicating. Each time, it grew harder too pull away.

Could it be his anxiety about Palpatine that was causing him to hold back? He was still wary about Palpatine's new attitude towards him, yet in such troubling times, the Chancellor was a friendly presence he could turn to. Surely if Palpatine was being controlled by the Sith, his demeanor would not be quite so accommodating. Wouldn't it?

"Anakin?"

Anakin whirled around, his hand flying to his lightsaber, but it was only Jocasta Nu. She flinched noticeably at his reaction to her voice. Anakin sighed. She was probably coming to tell him off again for wandering aimlessly around her domain.

"I understand, Madame Nu. I'll be leaving shortly."

"No, by all means stay as long as you like, Master Skywalker," she said, "But you'll be late for the Council meeting."

Anakin tensed. He had forgotten about the Council meeting. It would be the first since Obi-Wan had been reported missing. He had not seen most of the Masters since it had happened, and was not anxious to. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what they had to say.

"What time does it start?" he asked.

She frowned, clearly disapproving that he did not have his sense of punctuality in order. "In about five minutes, I believe."

Anakin swore and tore off down the aisle, leaving a scandalized Jocasta Nu in his wake. He had completely lost track of time. In addition to the other charges stacked against him, he was now going to be late. Using the Force to boost his speed, he streaked out of the archives and up the stairs of the spires, taking them three at a time.

Five minutes later, he reached the Council chamber, just in time to see Kit Fisto and Agen Kolar filing in. After taking a brief moment to pull air into his lungs, he followed them.

"Sorry I'm late," he addressed his seated peers shortly.

"That's alright, Anakin," Mace Windu said calmly. "Take a seat."

Anakin complied, ignoring the disapproving glare of Masters Jill and Tiin. They had better not press him. He was in no mood for any of their bantha spit today.

His eyes passed over the empty seat four feet to his left. Obi-Wan's chair. That seat had been occupied ever since Obi-Wan had been accepted to the Council over a year ago. To see it empty now caused his stomach to lurch again. Here was yet another reminder that his master was gone.

Mace's steady voice called the Council to order. "Masters," he said seriously. "You have been summoned here to discuss a matter of grave urgency. One that may have a significant impact on the war effort, as well as this Council."

"At our last session we dispatched Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to the Utapau system with the task of apprehending General Grievous. Upon his arrival, we received a message from Commander Cody that Obi-Wan had indeed engaged the General. A short time later, Master Kenobi disappeared."

Mace paused. The Council remained silent. Anakin noticed that his hands were shaking and quickly stilled them.

"It has been four days since we lost contact," Mace continued. "During this time, the clone troops on Utapau have been conducting a massive search for any trace of his whereabouts. So far, they have found nothing."

"This leads us to two possible speculations. One, Grievous has captured Obi-Wan, and somehow evaded our searchers. However, given the speed with which we moved, it is very unlikely that he would have been able to get off-planet. The cruiser in orbit reported that no ship got past it during the attack."

Mace took a deep breath here, and Anakin felt the tension pulse in the air. Mace couldn't say it. It would give validity to the rumors. This nightmare would blend into reality. He couldn't …

"The other scenario, as painful as it is for me to say it, is that Obi-Wan has been killed."

The seven other Council members present bowed their heads. Mace slumped back in his chair, as though the mere effort of forcing those words past his lips had taken all the energy in his body. Anakin, however, sat straight up, his eyes blazing with sorrow, anger, and undeniable conviction.

"No."

Shaak Ti spoke hesitantly. "Anakin, I know that you don't want to accept it, but we must think realistically …"

Anakin skewered her with a glare. "No. I don't believe it. I won't believe it. I know Obi-Wan better than any of you. He is resourceful, determined, and powerful in the Force. He has fought his way out of much tougher situations than this. He is alive."

"You haven't been listening," said Saesee Tiin. "Our forces have scoured the entire planet. They have found nothing. No trace. And as Master Windu said, there is no way that any ship got off the planet."

"He didn't say that," Anakin snapped. "He said it was unlikely. Grievous is a cunning adversary. He could have slipped past the blockade before it was in position. I wouldn't put it past him if he somehow managed to subdue Obi-Wan."

"Why would he want that?" Tiin asked. "Grievous has taken no prisoners over the course of this war. It is much more likely that if he did defeat Master Kenobi, he killed him."

"I agree with Master Tiin," interjected Pablo-Jill. "It is too much to hope."

Anakin rounded on him.

"_Too much to hope?_" he said disbelievingly. "I always knew you were pessimistic, _Master_ Jill, but this extends far beyond anything I've heard from you. Wasn't Obi-Wan your comrade? He has served this Council long and faithfully, saved many of your lives as often as he has saved mine, and you won't even do him the courtesy of _acknowledging the possibility_ that he might be alive?"

Pablo-Jill's inverted face contorted in annoyance. "How dare you accuse me such things, Skywalker. I grieve for his death as much as you, but it is obvious that your emotional attachment to your former master is blinding you to the obvious truth …"

"Enough!" Mace Windu said forcefully. "There will be no assaults on one another's character in this meeting! If Master Yoda were here, he would severely reprimand both of you."

Anakin cast a glance at Master Yoda's empty seat. The battle on Kashyyyk had taken a turn for the worse, and Yoda had not been able to tear himself away from his duties as commander to attend. Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon, and Stass Allie were absent as well. All of the battles seemed to have turned against the Jedi, starting from the day Obi-Wan had disappeared.

"Of course, Master Windu," Pablo-Jill said. "We shall yield to your greater wisdom."

Anakin worked hard to stop himself from snarling. Now the coward was licking Master Windu's boots to get back in favor. Political ploys in the Jedi Council. He couldn't believe that this was what he had aspired to. His only consolation was that Mace seemed to find Pablo-Jill's delivery as unpleasant as Anakin did.

"Anakin makes a valid point," he said. "It is possible that Grievous slipped past our net. I believe that we should continue the search for both Grievous and Obi-Wan, as well as expand it to other systems."

"With all due respect, Master," Agen Kolar said entreatingly, "that seems a fruitless waste of our limited resources. We cannot devote more personnel to this search when there are so many other conflicts that need our attention. We could lose a dozen systems if we shift our forces."

"Not if we pull them from Coruscant," Anakin interjected. "There are over twenty massive cruisers currently stationed here. We could dispatch a few of them to nearby systems and establish possible escape vectors …"

"And leave our capital undefended?" Pablo-Jill said incredulously. "You are being incredibly shortsighted! Save your ludicrous tactical suggestions for the situation room. This is not the place for it."

"The Separatists _just_ attacked Coruscant!" Anakin exclaimed, "And they suffered enormous losses. The loss of a few cruisers from the defensive perimeter won't incite them to attack again. Another defeat like that would finish them."

"You don't know that," Agen Kolar said. "We can't assume that we know what Gunray and the other separatists would do. The risk is simply too great."

"I understand your concern, Master Kolar" Mace broke in. "But our defenses are stronger than you realize. A few cruisers will not be missed. We will dispatch the _Justice_, the _Sunrider_, the _Enforcer_, and _Pride of Qel-Droma_ to the Utapau system, where they will confer with the troops stationed there, then spread out along the most likely courses that Grievous may have taken."

Stunned silence hung in the air of the Council chamber.

"The matter will not be put to vote?" Pablo-Jill asked incredulously.

"No," Mace said coldly. "It will not. Obi-Wan Kenobi has served the Jedi Order and the Republic loyally for thirty years. I know that every one of us here is deeply grateful for all he has done. We will not abandon him just because it makes good tactical sense."

Pablo-Jill and Saesee Tiin looked shocked and angry at being so abruptly overruled. Agen Kolar was oddly slack-jawed, as though he had lost control of his face. Kit Fisto remained coldly impassive, though Anakin knew he was just as stunned as the rest of them. Only Shaak Ti had a faint smile on her lips as she stared at her stupefied comrades. Though she was clearly surprised by Mace's proclamation, it was clear she didn't object to it.

Anakin felt some of the anger in his chest subside. So he wasn't alone. Master Windu hadn't given up on Obi-Wan either. He caught Mace's eye and gave a grateful smile. It might have been a trick of the light, but Anakin was sure he saw Mace wink at him.

Finally, Saesee Tiin found his voice. "You are right, Master. No one can dispute the great service that Master Kenobi has given to the Republic. We consent to your decision to continue the search for him."

_As if he needed your permission_, Anakin thought dryly. Clearly the other Masters did not dare to disagree with Master Windu, and were trying to save face by lending him their support.

"However, we have some concerns."

This came from Pablo-Jill. Anakin turned his gaze warily back to him. Anything that Pablo-Jill had to say was not something he wanted to hear.

"If Master Kenobi really is still alive," Pablo-Jill continued, "and we manage to mind him, it is very unlikely that he will be in fit condition to resume his Council seat, at least temporarily. Who knows what Grievous may have subjected him to? And during this critical stage of the war, it is wise to have as much wisdom and experience on the Jedi Council as possible."

Anakin felt an icy surge of horror pass through him. No. He wouldn't. Not even Pablo-Jill could possibly consider …

Mace Windu tensed. His piercing gaze bored into Pablo-Jill. "I thought I told you that we were not going to discuss this issue …"

"With all due respect, Master Windu," interrupted Pablo-Jill, in a tone that did not sound very respectful at all, "this is a democratic council, and I have every right to make my motion. You cannot suspend due procedure whenever you feel it is necessary. It is against our principles."

"This coming from someone who doesn't have any," Anakin interjected coldly.

"That's enough, Anakin," Mace said sharply. "Your point is taken, Master Jill. Proceed, if you must."

"Until such time as we receive sufficient proof that Master Kenobi has indeed survived," Pablo-Jill continued as though nothing had happened, "I motion that we nominate another Jedi Master to assume his seat on this Council."

Anakin leapt out of his seat. All the frustration that had been building up inside of him since Obi-Wan had disappeared, looking for an outlet, eating away at his carefully maintained self-control, exploded out of him in an enormous rush. Unable to contain it any longer, he let it fly.

"You can't _possibly_ be serious!" he shouted, ignoring the scandalized gasps of the masters. He didn't care if he was out of line; he was past caring about what they thought. He was so unbelievably _sick_ of all of them, with their superior attitudes and their endless babbling. They did not deserve their titles, they did not deserve their power, and they did not deserve his respect.

"This is how you repay your debt to Obi-Wan Kenobi? After all he has done for this Order and this Republic, _this_ is how you would honor him? You send him on a dangerous mission, and now, when he needs your help, you argue against trying to find him, give him up for dead, and hand his seat on this Council to someone else? What has he done to deserve dishonor like this? He would fight to the death to protect any one of you, but you won't do the same for him? You bestow more respect on greedy ambassadors and diplomats than your comrade who has fought beside you and for you for years!"

"Do not twist the truth, young Skywalker," Pablo-Jill said. He was trying to regain his composure, having jerked backwards when Anakin had risen. "We are well aware of all the service Master Kenobi has performed. But this is a logical proposal. If Master Kenobi does not return, he will need to be replaced."

"And what will he say when he does return?" Anakin snapped. "What happens when he finds that you have given his well-earned place on the Council to a less deserving recipient?" He rounded on every one of the seated Masters, burning holes into them with his glare. "Will you reinstate him? Or will you give him a meaningless apology and show him the door?"

"_If_ Master Kenobi is found," Master Tiin stated coldly, "he will, of course, be welcomed back."

"Sit down, Anakin" said Mace Windu firmly. "Master Jill, the appointment of a new member to this Council is a serious matter. Finding a suitable master could take weeks. Unless you have a ready candidate available, there is no point in continuing …"

"As it just so happens, Master Windu, we _do_ have a suitable nominee," interrupted Pablo Jill. "A distinguished member of the Order for several decades, who has long been deserving of such an honor. After many long years as a negotiator, he has dedicated his time to instructing our young hopefuls in the art of mediation and lightsaber technique. Allow me to present …" he indicated the door with a wave of his hand, "Jedi Master Cin Drallig."

The door slid open. In strode a tall, straight-backed human male of about 60; clean shaven but with a mane of graying hair that fell to his shoulders and was held back in a ponytail. Intelligent, steel blue eyes swept over the seated Council, lingering for a split second on Anakin. Anakin held the gaze. He had met Master Drallig before; actually studied advanced lightsaber techniques under him for a short time. He had mastered the forms so quickly that after two sessions, during sparring practice, he had disarmed his instructor in under a minute, in front of two hundred knights and masters of the Order. No one had ever accomplished such a feat before, much less a Padawan of only sixteen. Master Drallig had been remarkably gracious about his defeat, but had always treated Anakin distantly after that. In fact, this was the closest he had been to Drallig since he had achieved knighthood.

Drallig spoke in a crisp, firm voice with no accent of any kind. "I am deeply honored to be considered for a position on the Jedi Council."

"I have talked with other members of this Council, and I have discussed this matter with Master Drallig" Pablo-Jill said, "And we firmly believe that he has all the necessary qualities to merit his nomination."

Anakin's stomach jolted as realization hit him. This was not a spur of the moment ploy; this had been planned! Pablo-Jill had been lobbying for members of the Council to approve Obi-Wan's replacement before the meeting had begun. One look at the faces of Masters Kolar, Tiin, Fisto and Shaak Ti told him all he needed to know. They had known about this.

Mace Windu looked stunned. Apparently, he and Anakin had been the only ones who had not been let in on the plot. His eyes narrowed, and he focused them on each of the guilty members in turn. One by one, their Jedi stoicism failed; they grew uncomfortable and looked away. Only Master Drallig seemed unaffected; he stood calmly in the center of the room as awkward silence reigned.

Finally, Master Windu spoke. "A vote cannot be held now. As you can see, not all of our number are present."

"That won't be necessary," Pablo-Jill said confidently. "I was able to speak with Masters Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon, and Stass Allie before their command duties took effect. They support the nomination and granted their proxy votes to Masters Tiin, Kolar, and myself."

Mace raised an eyebrow. "And Master Yoda?"

A shadow passed over Pablo-Jill's face. "He would not give his consent."

Anakin's hopes sank. Even with Master Yoda refusing to support Drallig, the outlook was bleak. Only he and Master Windu seemed not to be in favor of the motion, although Shaak Ti appeared to be wavering. Most Council decisions were made by a one-half majority, but the nomination needed a two-thirds majority to pass. Still, unless one of the other masters had a change in heart …

"If Master Windu has no objections," Master Tiin said, "I motion that we vote on this matter now."

Anakin looked over at Master Windu. There was no way he was going to get the vote deferred. Even a Senior Member of the Jedi Council only had so much power. It was too much to hope.

Mace sighed. "Let us vote then. All in favor of the nomination say aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

Pablo-Jill, Saesee Tiin, and Agen Kolar cast their votes in quick succession. After a moment, Kit Fisto followed suit. Ki-Adi Mundi's Plo Koon's and Stass Allie's proxies were cast as well, all in favor.

Anakin's hands shook. Seven to nothing. If they motion received one more vote of assent, Master Drallig would take Obi-Wan's spot on the Council.

Mace gestured for his vote. Anakin shook his head. "I say no."

"I second that no," Mace said firmly. "And I cast Master Yoda's proxy against the nomination."

Seven to three. Only Shaak Ti remained. She still seemed to be wavering.

"Master Ti," Pablo-Jill said sharply. "Your vote. Remember our discussion."

_Please,_ Anakin thought. _Don't listen to him …_

Shaak Ti looked at the ground. "Aye," she whispered.

A faint smile appeared on Pablo-Jill's face. "The nomination succeeds, then."

"So be it," Mace said flatly. "Master Drallig, take a seat."

Drallig bowed. "Thank you, Master Windu."

He crossed the room and settled himself into Obi-Wan's chair. What had once been Obi-Wan's chair, at any rate. Master Drallig leaned back in his new seat and rested his right ankle on top of his opposite knee, the exact position that Obi-Wan used to take. Anakin felt a lump rise in his throat. He had failed. Closing his eyes, he forced down a tear that was threatening to fall.

_I'm sorry, Obi-Wan._

The tears evaporated in a storm of anger. _This_ was what he'd aspired to his entire life? To be a part of a cowardly, backstabbing group of so-called _Masters_ that would abandon their comrades and spit on their memories? He had always believed the Senate to be corrupt, but compared to the company he sat in now, the Senate seemed pure and pristine. He had received nothing but pain and grief at the hands of the Council, and now he was part of it. The thought made him sick.

He couldn't stay here any longer.

Mace's voice floated dimly in his mind, "If this matter has been concluded, we will now return our attention to …"

Anakin got up. Silently, he headed for the door.

"Anakin!"

He turned. The rest of the Council was looking at him. They were unsettled, possibly even afraid, waiting to see what he would do next.

Mace, who had spoken, leaned forward slightly. "Where are you going?"

Anakin held his gaze. "I'm leaving."

"This session is not over yet!" said a surprised Drallig.

"I don't care."

"Your behavior during this meeting has been outrageous," Pablo-Jill said sharply. "If you leave now, we will have no choice but suspend you from this Council."

"Anakin …" Mace began entreatingly.

Anakin cut him off. He straightened to his full height and turned his deadly blue stare on every one of them. They tensed. Anticipation hung in thick in the air. He turned away.

"Go to hell."

Using the Force to throw open the doors, he left the Council chamber.

* * *

_Obi-Wan …_

He awoke to a voice.

_Obi-Wan, hear me …_

Obi-Wan rolled onto his back, his head throbbing. He was lying on the cold floor of his cell. The ever-present chains were coiled around his arms, constricting them painfully. Groggily, he pulled them loose. He winced as the voice echoed again inside his aching head. From what he could tell, there was no on else in the room, not even Grievous. Was this some new way for the General to torture him? Make him believe he was going crazy, and then play off his victim's weakness? Or was he really starting to crack?

_Obi-Wan …_

He tried to ignore the voice. Maybe it would disappear. More than likely it was a hallucination brought on by the trial he had endured last time he had been awake.

_Obi-Wan, hear my voice …_

"What?" he snapped finally. "Who is this?"

The voice sounded relieved. _Thank goodness you're awake. And that you still have strength in you. For a moment I thought you were about to join me in the afterlife._

Afterlife? What was the voice talking about? He must be going crazy. Yet there was that mantra from the Jedi Code: there is no death, there is the Force. And that voice sounded very familiar …

"Qui-Gon?" he gasped.

_Yes, my old friend. It's been a long time._

"But you died," Obi-Wan said. Nevertheless, tears of happiness were trickling down his cheeks. If he really was going crazy, then this was worth it. To hear the voice of his beloved master, even in such a dark time and place. "That Sith killed you on Naboo. I saw it happen. I held you when you took your last breath."

_Yes, my body died. But through the power of the Force, I was able to retain my identity in the netherworld that exists beyond. I have gained more knowledge, and become more powerful than I could ever have dreamed of._ Qui-Gon sounded amused. _You could say that it's the best thing that ever happened to me._

"But how did you …"

Qui-Gon cut him off. _Listen to me, Obi-Wan. There is not much time. It is very difficult for me to maintain contact with this world for long. Had you not been in such desperate need, I would not have been able to manage it at all. You must not give in to your anger. You must not fall. There is too much at stake._

"I'm trying," Obi-Wan said. "But Grievous makes me lose my self-control. At times, I find myself picturing his demise. I tear him to pieces. I …" Obi-Wan bowed his head. "I enjoy it."

_I know that it's difficult. But you must succeed. Be strong; be strong for Sabé, for Anakin, for me. They are in danger; they will need you._

Qui-Gon's voice began to fade. Obi-Wan felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and the room seemed to be shrouded in even deeper darkness than before. Something was blocking him off from Qui-Gon. Desperately, he reached for the Force, trying to hold back the shadow and maintain contact with Qui-Gon. He could not hold it.

"Qui-Gon!" he cried.

_Be strong, Obi-Wan. I have faith …_

Qui-Gon's voice vanished. Obi-Wan fell to his knees, grasping desperately at the broken connection. For one glorious minute, he had talked with his former Master, just like he had thirteen years ago, when Qui-Gon had been alive and well. Now he was, once again, alone.

The Force had failed him. He had reached for it, and it had turned away.

Warily, he regarded the new shadowy presence in his mind. This presence also seemed familiar, in a twisted sort of way. In addition to the chill, however, the newcomer radiated something else. Power. Unlimited power.

_Greetings, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

Obi-Wan jumped. The voice was cold and slightly high-pitched, with an air of command. Whoever this person was, he was used to getting his own way.

Obi-Wan stiffened his metal barriers. Whatever this person wanted, he wouldn't get it from him.

The voice chuckled. _An admirable attempt, my young Jedi. Especially given your current condition. But I think that it would be in your best interest to hear what I have to say._

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan demanded. "What do you want?"

_My name is not important, not yet at any rate. As for what I want, that is quite simple. I want to help you._

"Help me?" Obi-Wan snorted. "I don't need your help. I was getting enough …"

He stopped. He shouldn't tell this person about Qui-Gon.

_Ah, yes. Your uplifting conversation with your former mentor. I was listening. A pity his time was so limited; but no doubt he managed to pass on a great deal of useful information. Or did he?_

"Actually, he did."

_Really? Like what? Be strong, don't give in? Rather vague, don't you think? Why didn't he tell you how to escape? How to break those chains that bind you? A Jedi Master powerful enough to speak from beyond the grave surely possesses those secrets._

Obi-Wan remained silent. The person's words stung him. Hearing Qui-Gon had been uplifting; and he must have had a good reason for not being more specific. His time had been limited, after all.

"It wouldn't have mattered," he said finally. "In case you didn't notice, I've been stripped of the Force."

_You are not as powerless as you think. The drugs that Grievous has administered to you can be overcome, if you have the right motivation and strength. You just have to draw it from the right place._

Obi-Wan felt a rush of anger at hearing Grievous's name. He was intrigued in spite of himself. What if there was a way to break these chains? He could escape, and avenge himself …

_Yes, my friend. That's it. Use your anger. Let it burn within you. It will give you the strength you need._

Obi-Wan blinked. What was he doing? Qui-Gon had just warned him about giving into his anger. He would not let his former master down, no matter how strong the temptation.

Dousing the flames of anger that were smoldering in his heart, he let defiance enter his voice. "Never. I will not fall for your petty tricks. Anger and aggression do not breed power. True power comes only from the light."

The voice hardened. _So you say. So you have been taught. But reality is not so simple. Consider what truly matters to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, before you make such a judgment. You have people who love you, who need you. You cannot help them in your current state. But I can show you how._

The shadow began to draw away. Obi-Wan felt its presence lift from him. _Think about what I've said …_

"Wait!" Obi-Wan called. He had to know. He couldn't let this person leave unmasked. "Who are you?"

There was a pause. Then the voice uttered a single word.

_Sidious._

And then there was silence.

* * *


	15. Abandoned

**Chapter 15**

_Sidious_.

He knew the name. It had occupied his thoughts ever since he had first heard it on Geonosis three years ago. It had inspired fear, anger, and despair whenever it had crossed his mind. The instigator of the war. The cause of all the suffering. The killer of untold millions.

_Sidious_.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists. While he was desperate for aid, he didn't want it from the Dark Lord of the Sith.

What interest could Sidious have in him? Obi-Wan had certainly proved himself to be no friend of the Sith over the years. He had slain the first Sith apprentice on Naboo thirteen years ago, he had dueled with Dooku several times, and together with Anakin, he had pursued the master to the far corners of the galaxy. Sidious's identity had only barely been preserved in the weeks before the battle of Coruscant. They had come within centimeters of unmasking him. The elusive Sith Lord has slipped away. It had been a setup, a trap, which they had barely survived.

Could that be why he was here? Was Sidious trying to punish him for all the damage he had done to the Sith cause? And where did Grievous fit in? Did he knowingly serve the Sith? Obi-Wan's lip curled. It was easy to imagine Grievous as a puppet of the Sith, cruel and manipulative scum that he was.

But why not just kill him? Keeping a Jedi prisoner was not easy, even if he was stripped of the Force. Everyday that they left him here increased the likelihood of escape or rescue. Obi-Wan had no idea how long he had been here, but it must have been weeks. Sidious was practical; if he wanted to punish Obi-Wan then he could have done it swiftly yet painfully, and disposed of the traces long ago. But what if that was the point?

A sick feeling arose in the pit of his stomach. Sidious wasn't trying to punish him; he was trying to _break_ him. He was trying to tear Obi-Wan down so that he build him back up as his servant!

Rage exploded in Obi-Wan's chest. He was being tortured so that he could be made to serve a murderer. A murderer he had sworn that he would destroy. He would never serve the Sith. He would not fall for any of Sidious's twisted tricks.

_Yet here you are, getting angry._

Immediately, Obi-Wan tried to call up his mental image of Sabé. He couldn't afford to slip up like that. Especially now that he knew what he was up against.

A blurred image swam in front of him. Sabé's face was out of focus. He couldn't remember her features.

Panicking, he dug deeper into his memory. A red dress … she had been wearing a red dress …

Finally, his mind's image cleared. There was Sabé, as beautiful yet fragile as ever, the sun shining on her tearful eyes. He sighed with relief. He hadn't lost her.

But it had been much, much harder this time. She was fading in his mind; she no longer shone as brightly as she once had. Whether her light was weakening or his own soul was growing darker, Obi-Wan did not know.

_A traitor._

Grievous had branded Sabé with that name. He claimed that she was part of a plot to destabilize the Republic, and had been passing the Confederacy information. Obi-Wan could not believe that. Someone as dedicated to freedom and justice as Sabé would never join hands with the money-grubbing Separatists, even if she did believe she was doing the right thing. Why then, did the accusation still trouble him? He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

The door to his cell slid open.

"Ah, so my favorite Jedi lives yet another day."

Obi-Wan glared at the familiar, hulking figure of his nemesis. "Grievous. You're back. Is it on the orders of your Sith master that I am forced to endure your presence?"

Grievous stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, General," Obi-Wan snapped. "I know that the Confederacy is under the control of the Sith. I have just had the rather dubious honor of making the acquaintance of Darth Sidious. Obviously you are acting under his orders. You are trying to turn me."

For a brief moment, Grievous appeared to be taken aback. Then he began to laugh.

"You really are naïve, aren't you Kenobi?" He chuckled. "Jumping to conclusions as soon as you hear the Sith are involved. I would have thought you would have learned by now: nothing Lord Sidious does is ever that straightforward."

Obi-Wan tried to hold back his surprise. This wasn't the reaction he had been anticipating.

"But since you brought up the subject," Grievous said, "Let me fill you in. I have you at my mercy here, Kenobi. You have caused me considerable aggravation, but now you are powerless. Why would I ever hand you over to a Sith Lord so that he can liberate you and give you the power to destroy me?"

"You are correct; I did serve Lord Sidious at the beginning of the war. However, recent events have made me realize that my interests and his no longer coincide. He wants to rule the Republic. I intend to destroy it. And so I have broken away from his control. I am certainly not going to help him find a new apprentice who could threaten my work."

Obi-Wan was speechless. This didn't make sense at all. If Sidious wasn't responsible for his capture, than what did that mean? Grievous was holding him here for a personal vendetta? Grievous torturing him was nothing more than elaborate revenge? His striking revelation was unraveling fast. He needed to keep Grievous talking.

"So," he said slowly, "Is Sidious aware that you no longer serve him?"

"Of course not," Grievous said flippantly. "He cannot fathom that any of his puppets could have a mind of their own. But Dooku did. He grew disillusioned with Sidious's elaborate plan, just as he had grown disillusioned the Republic and the Jedi. He knew that Sidious has no intention of removing the corruption from the Senate. So he began to rebel, to act outside of Sidious's orders. He started to fight for a the cause that had previously only been a smokescreen. Sidious couldn't have Dooku acting independently, could he? It's probably the reason he was so untroubled when Skywalker went and beheaded him."

Obi-Wan was interested; he couldn't help himself. If there was dissention in the ranks of the enemy, it would be easier for the Jedi to defeat the menace once and for all.

"Aren't you worried you'll end up like Dooku? Crossing a Sith Lord is not easily done."

"I never said it was easy," Grievous said, "But it unlike Dooku, I am willing to wait. Very soon, the project will be completed and my plan can proceed. No one will stop me then. Not even a Sith Lord."

Something in Grievous's tone made Obi-Wan shiver. Whatever this was, it wasn't good.

"What project?" he blurted. "What plan? How soon?"

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" Grievous laughed, amused. "You're too interested for your good. Suffice it to say that there are few obstacles that need to be removed first. Recently, the Dark Lord has turned his attention to obtaining a new apprentice, a very promising young Jedi who has grown rather disillusioned with his comrades. If I am to succeed, the Chosen One must be taken care of."

_Anakin._

Obi-Wan lunged forward in his restraints. "You won't succeed," he snarled. "Anakin beat you the last time you faced off."

Annoyance crept into Grievous's tone. "Our duel was cut short, as I recall. And anyway, whoever said I intended to fight him? There are many ways to destroy a man, Kenobi, besides killing him."

"The Jedi will stop you," Obi-Wan snapped. "You cannot win."

"Funny you should mention the Jedi," Grievous said menacingly. "I have another file to show you, concerning your noble friends. I think you will find this one most … deflating."

He produced the holoprojector from the last session from under his cloak. Obi-Wan eyed it warily. He could not trust what was revealed, no matter how debilitating it was.

The projector buzzed to life. A scaled image of a circular room over looking the Coruscant skyline rose into view. There were twelve seats placed around the room. The Jedi Council chamber.

The masters began to file in. Obi-Wan recognized each and every one of them, from Master Windu at the head of the column to Kit Fisto at the rear. The masters took their seats.

Just as they were getting settled, Anakin barged in, looking disheveled, as though he had sprinted all the way from the Archives. He addressed his seated peers shortly and took his seat.

Obi-Wan felt a smile tug at his mouth. It was so typically Anakin, always doing things his own way. The sight of his best friend had lightened his mood.

"You find this amusing, Kenobi?" Grievous interjected, "Then you will find the later part of this meeting absolutely riveting."

Mace spoke. "Masters," he said seriously. "You have been summoned here to discuss a matter of grave urgency. One that may have a significant impact on the war effort, as well as this Council."

"At our last session we dispatched Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to the Utapau system with the task of apprehending General Grievous. Upon his arrival, we received a message from Commander Cody that Obi-Wan had indeed engaged the General. A short time later, Master Kenobi disappeared."

Obi-Wan started. So he wasn't forgotten. The Council was discussing his disappearance. A good sign, surely. It meant that they still believed that he was alive.

"It has been four days since we lost contact," Mace continued. "During this time, the clone troops on Utapau have been conducting a massive search for any trace of his whereabouts. So far, they have found nothing." He paused. "The other scenario, as painful as it is for me to say it, is that Obi-Wan has been killed."

The other masters bowed their heads. Anakin however, objected.

"No."

Obi-Wan felt his pride soar. Anakin hadn't given up on him. He still believed that he was alive.

What unnerved him, however, was the adamancy of the denials of the other Council members, Pablo-Jill and Saesee Tiin in particular. They quickly began to argue with Anakin, spewing a long list of practical reasons and convictions that Master Kenobi couldn't possibly be alive, and that Anakin was in denial.

Obi-Wan stared hard at the inverted face of the Ongree Master. He and Pablo-Jill had never seen eye to eye, but surely that wasn't reason enough for such a violent protest. He had fought beside Master Jill on Geonosis. Whatever their differences, they were comrades. And comrades did not abandon each other so lightly.

Master Windu intervened, decreeing that four Republic assault cruisers would be dispatched to Utapau to look for Obi-Wan.

So Master Windu still believed too. The cruisers wouldn't find anything; Obi-Wan had almost no doubt that he was no longer on Utapau. But he appreciated the action.

"Apparently you are not totally forgotten," Grievous said, "Take comfort in that. It will make the remainder of what you have to see slightly less painful."

Obi-Wan's nerves returned. Grievous badly wanted him to see whatever was about to happen, and that meant whatever was coming was going to be seriously troubling.

"If Master Kenobi really is still alive," Pablo-Jill continued, "and we manage to find him, it is very unlikely that he will be in fit condition to resume his Council seat, at least temporarily. Who knows what Grievous may have subjected him to? And during this critical stage of the war, it is wise to have as much wisdom and experience on the Jedi Council as possible."

Tension hung in the air, both real and holographic. Anakin interrupted again, only to be silenced.

"Until such time as we receive sufficient proof that Master Kenobi has indeed survived," Pablo-Jill continued, "I motion that we nominate another Jedi Master to assume his seat on this Council."

The bottom dropped out from Obi-Wan's stomach. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it.

He wasn't the only one taken aback. Anakin immediately leapt out of his chair.

"You can't _possibly_ be serious!"

Such a display of loyalty from his former padawan would have deeply touched Obi-Wan if he hadn't been completely numb with shock. Never before had any master who had gone missing been replaced on the Council so quickly. You earned your spot, and once you did, the other members supported you unquestioningly in your right to be there. Such a violation of honor was unheard of in the Jedi Council.

Anakin, likewise, appeared to have lost all rationale. His self-control completely evaporated, he launched into a verbal attack on Master Jill, ignoring the attempt of Master Windu to restrain him. It was intimidating; one could almost feel the power crackling in the young Jedi as he unleashed his anger. Obi-Wan silently pleaded with him to calm down; if Anakin kept this up he would lose his spot on the Council as well. But at the same time, he took pleasure in the spasmodic, fearful twitching of Pablo-Jill as he bore Anakin's wrath.

Mace finally managed to calm Anakin down. He also reprimanded Pablo-Jill, reminding him that unless a suitable nominee was available, Pablo-Jill had no case. But what came next was even more disturbing.

Cin Drallig walked through the door to the Council chamber. As Pablo-Jill rattled off his qualifications, a horrifying revelation occurred to Obi-Wan. This was a setup. Master Jill had planned this in advance!

Anakin and Mace appeared to have come to the exact same conclusion. Mace slumped back in his chair stunned. Anakin, however, leaned forward menacingly. For a brief moment, Obi-Wan thought he was going to leap out of his chair and throttle Master Jill.

Saesee Tiin called for a vote. Obi-Wan's heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure Grievous could hear it. Pablo-Jill, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Kit Fisto all cast their votes in favor. The proxy votes for Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon, and Stass Allie followed. In an instant, the tally was seven to nothing.

Anakin quickly voted against the nomination. Mace followed suit, and cast Yoda's proxy against it. Only Shaak Ti remained.

"Master Ti," Pablo-Jill said sharply. "Your vote. Remember our discussion."

"Aye," Shaak Ti whispered.

Obi-Wan slumped, barely managing to prevent his legs from given out under him. It was over. He had been cast out from the Council. His fellow Masters had ruled him out.

They had betrayed him.

Master Drallig settled himself into the Council seat that had once been his. The faint, triumphant smile on Pablo-Jill's face burned into his scarred mind. He couldn't think, he couldn't comprehend, that such a treacherous act could ever come from the Jedi Council.

Anakin stood up, his face hard as stone. He headed for the exit. Obi-Wan watched warily. He didn't want Anakin to do something stupid that would get him expelled from the Council, or worse, the Order. But the look on Anakin's face told him that was not something he could trust.

"Anakin!" Mace called, "Where are you going?"

Anakin held his gaze. "I'm leaving."

"This session is not over yet!" said a surprised Drallig.

"I don't care."

"Your behavior during this meeting has been outrageous," Pablo-Jill said sharply. "If you leave now, we will have no choice but suspend you from this Council."

"Anakin …" Mace began entreatingly.

Anakin cut him off. Obi-Wan knew what was coming. _Don't_, he thought desperately. _Please, Anakin. You can't get expelled. Not you too_.

Anakin squared his shoulders and turned away. "Go to hell."

He tore from the Council chamber.

The image winked out. Unable to support himself any longer, Obi-Wan let himself slide to his knees. He had been abandoned. His comrades had deserted him. And in doing so, they had taken all the strength in his body.

"Not so well disposed toward your Jedi friends now, are you Kenobi?" Grievous sneered, as he tucked the projector back inside his cloak.

"It's a lie," Obi-Wan muttered, more to himself than to Grievous. "It's not true. You're making this up."

"A lie?" Grievous hissed, yellow eyes flashing menacingly, "Do you really think, Kenobi, that I would be taking as much pleasure in tearing you down if all these things were _staged_? Your girlfriend is a traitor to the Republic. Your Jedi comrades have abandoned you. Your position has been taken and your honor stained. _And you can do nothing about it_. You have no power. And that, Kenobi, is the truth."

Obi-Wan looked down at the floor. He could not meet Greivous's eyes, burning as he was with shame. He would not give the General the satisfaction of seeing him so broken.

"This session is over, Kenobi. Good night."

Obi-Wan did not resist. He let himself be carried away by the wave of agony in the endless, dark ocean of pain.

* * *


	16. The Right Motivation

**Chapter 18**

Grievous turned away from the limp body of the Jedi Master and stalked out of the cell, pausing only to issue orders to his bodyguards. "The usual. Feed him then lock him up."

He made his way to the communication center. He always felt energized after these sessions with Kenobi. Taking such a slow revenge on his enemy and watching the debilitating effect it was having on him made hiding in this broken-down excuse for a building in enemy territory well worth the trouble. For the first time in months, Grievous was actually enjoying himself.

It couldn't last, he knew. Sooner or later Lord Sidious was going to come and finish what Grievous had begun. He would let Kenobi out, reform him in his own image, and unleash his pent-up anger at the Jedi's former allies.

That anger, however, would have to be redirected first. One unfortunate consequence of breaking Kenobi was that all of the Jedi's newfound aggression was directed at Grievous himself. It was inevitable, he supposed, given Kenobi's lack of another scapegoat, but he was beginning to suspect that Lord Sidious was not concerning himself unduly with the possibility that his new apprentice was going be out Grievous's blood. His last conversation with the Dark Lord had not eased his concerns.

Sidious was contacting him almost daily now. While Grievous understood the Dark Lord's desire to be informed at this crucial stage of the plan, he was beginning to find the discussions tiresome. Obviously, he wasn't going to let Lord Sidious know that. Disagreeing with him was a certain path to destruction.

He reached the communication center, locked the door behind him, and flipped the switch on the blinking console. The hooded form of his Master rose before him.

Grievous knelt. "You summoned me, My Lord?"

"Yes," Sidious said curtly. "The usual progress report. Make it quick."

Grievous raised his head. "I believe that we have taken our largest step toward success. The fight is going out of Kenobi. The recording of his ouster from the Jedi Council almost broke him completely. A few more sessions and I will have him completely at your mercy."

"A few more sessions will not be necessary. We are ahead of schedule. The foolishness of the Jedi Council has made my work considerably easier."

This was news to Grievous. He had assumed that Sidious had been behind the Council's seemingly inexplicable abandonment of Kenobi. "It is indeed fortunate. I never thought the Council would prove be an ally, however unknowingly."

Sidious snorted. "Pablo-Jill is a traditionalist. He was made for peace, not war, and feels that the Jedi Order is losing its way in the current upheaval. He has a misguided belief that the galaxy should adjust to the purposes of the Jedi, not the other way around. Kenobi and Skywalker are a bit too … radical … for his tastes."

"How fortunate."

"Indeed. Now listen to me very carefully, General. We are nearing the most crucial stage of our plan, and I have been able to clear sufficient space in my schedule to come and oversee the final stages of development. I will be arriving at your location in two days."

Grievous's sensors felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. Lord Sidious was coming _here_?

"That is correct, General," Sidious said, apparently having picked up on Grievous's train of thought. "And I fully expect Kenobi to be ready. You will have one more session with him, and it will be a productive one if you wish to maintain your current standing."

A million objections raced through Grievous's head. He had known this was coming, but so soon? He hadn't gotten to punish Kenobi nearly as much as he had wanted, and furthermore, Kenobi did not seem nearly as angry with the Jedi as he should be. All his hate was directed at Grievous himself. He gathered himself to ask for more time, but stopped. There would be no changing the Dark Lord's mind.

"Is there a problem, Grievous?"

"No, My Lord." Grievous kept his gaze pointed at the floor. "I shall eagerly await your arrival."

"One more thing, General," Sidious said. "As hard as you have undoubtedly tried, you will not have been able to completely expunge Kenobi's ideals. There are pieces of a certain practice at your location that I am sure he will find objectionable. I do not want him to get any noble ideas."

"The slaves," Grievous nodded understandingly. "What should I do with them?"

"Lock them up," Sidious said coldly. "Keep them out of sight. If any of them give you the slightest trouble, kill them all."

"I understand, My Lord."

"Until then, General."

The link was terminated.

Grievous rose to his feet and stared hard at the spot where his master's image had been moments before. His previous good mood had evaporated. Soon he was going to find himself between two powerful forces, the most powerful man in the galaxy and the newly turned Kenobi. Not at all a desirable position.

There would be no escape this time. It would be life or death.

* * *

He awoke to despair.

As usual, his body burned with the lingering traces of pain, keeping his breathing shallow and his body stiff. But that pain seemed but a pinprick compared to the inner agony of Obi-Wan's heart.

How long he had been out, he didn't know. It had seemed like an eternity. In the blackness of his mind the recording he had been shown played over and over again, each time cutting him deeper than before. The faces of his friends and comrades floated silently past him, devoid of any caring emotion. They passed him over, disappearing into the shadowing void from which they came and leaving him more alone than before.

Since he was six months old, he had been raised in the Jedi Temple. He had been using the Force in small ways since before he could walk. As he grew older, and began to truly understand the majesty and legacy of the Jedi Knights, he had drank it in and made it part of who he was, until his sense of self and his Jedi virtues were inexpressibly connected. He was not just part of the Order, he was the Order. Without it, he was something less than whole. In that fact, he had taken the deepest pride.

And while he had not always viewed the Jedi Council as infallible, as many did, he had been deeply honored when he had been accepted to it. He had felt that in such a position, he could do more for his beloved Republic and Order than ever before.

Until now.

The Order that he had served since birth had cast him aside. They had given him up for dead, stripped him of his honor, and even worse, they did not appear to have a good reason for doing so. Obi-Wan didn't believe for a second that jargon that Pablo-Jill had spewed about the Council needing as much experience as possible during these troubled times. During the Great Sith War, arguably the Jedi's darkest hour, there had only been five masters serving on the Council. Yet still, the Jedi had managed to defeat the forces of Exar Kun, destroy the Sith Lord himself, and clear the way for the Republic to be reestablished. The Council did not need more experience. This was a political ploy; Pablo-Jill was shifting the balance of power on the Council by replacing someone he viewed as potentially extreme with a known conservative in Master Drallig. And after what Anakin had done, he had a feeling that Pablo-Jill and his supporters would lobby hard to have the Chosen One booted off the Council as well, thereby eliminating two of his most potent rivals.

Obi-Wan remembered giving his report to the Council after rescuing the Chancellor on the _Invisible Hand_. He had despaired about the seemingly changed motives of his colleagues, which shifted from the good of the Republic to the good of the Jedi to the good of themselves only. The worse part was they didn't even know it. They were deluding themselves into believing that they served the Republic, when in reality they had abandoned it long ago.

Just as they had abandoned him.

As that small revelation clicked into place, Obi-Wan's despair evaporated, replaced by an explosion of heat. He had been guarding himself against it; yet as it grew towards an inferno, he found he no longer had the strength to deny it.

Anger.

The Jedi Council was supposed to be incorruptible! They were supposed to be above such petty jealousies! How _dare_ they abandon the principles that Obi-Wan had lived and would have gladly died for! How _dare_ they dishonor him and his padawan in such a manner! How _dare_ they become so weak that they allowed themselves to be deluded by the selfish whims of someone who was not fit to wipe floors of the Jedi Temple, let alone serve on the highest council in the galaxy!

None of them were innocent. Not Saesee Tiin and Agen Kolar, who had openly shown support for Pablo-Jill. Not Cin Drallig, who had consented to be their puppet. Not Shaak Ti, who had hesitated, but whose final vote had doomed him. Not even Master Windu, who had allowed this travesty to happen on his watch.

_STOP! Don't do this! Remember what Qui-Gon said!_

Obi-Wan ignored the voice. He didn't want to stop. Indulging his emotion made him feel whole again. For the first time since he had been thrown in this pit and deprived of the Force, he felt _alive_. The bonds that had weighed so heavily on his arms suddenly felt light. The feeling of strength was … intoxicating.

Escape! He could escape! The chains that bound him no longer seemed unbreakable. Given time, he could weaken them. He could overpower Grievous, steal a vessel, and make his way back home. He could see Anakin and Padmé again and … Sabé.

_Sabé_.

He could be with her! Why should he care about the rule of Jedi celibacy after what the Order had done to him? They could escape, to somewhere untouched by the war and stain of corruption.

_Sabé is a traitor._

He brushed the memory aside. Those views, if they were accurate, could be stamped out. He could make her see his point of view. He wouldn't let a small thing like allegiances keep her from him.

_What are you thinking?_

Immediately, Obi-Wan tried to call his picture of Sabé to his mind's eye. That wasn't love, that was obsession. He would never force Sabé into doing something against her will.

A blurry white and red image swam in front of him. He could make out vague details of her outline, but her face remained hidden. He tried again. The image got even darker. She seemed to be moving away in a cloud to strong for him to penetrate.

_NO!_

With all of the energy he could summon, he reached for he one last time, to no avail. For a moment she wavered, and then Sabé Naberrie faded completely away.

Obi-Wan screamed in frustration as he lost her. She couldn't be gone! Not now, when he needed her so deeply. She was all that was pure and good that remained in his world.

_Sabé is a traitor._

Grievous. Grievous had poisoned his body, his mind, and now he was poisoning his heart. The last step in his revenge? To deprive his enemy of the one thing that was keeping him alive and sane?

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE HER FROM ME!" he yelled at his nemesis through the darkness.

He slid down to the floor. It was hopeless. He couldn't continue on drawing from the light like he had been, and he couldn't allow himself to get angry again. It would twist him beyond recognition.

As he sat there, he became aware that the room seemed to have gotten colder. A familiar chill spread up his neck. He wasn't alone.

"Qui-Gon?" he asked hesitatingly.

_I'm afraid not, my young friend._

Obi-Wan's hands tightened into fists. "Sidious. What do you think of your handiwork?"

_What are you talking about?_

"This!" Obi-Wan snapped. "Are you enjoying watching me struggle in your web?"

_You are mistaken. I have nothing to do with your condition._

"Is that so? Well, what do you want?"

_I have already told you._

"That you want to help me? Forgive me for not falling to my knees in thanks. Any help that you would give me would likely only make my situation worse."

_You do not understand. I can help you free yourself._

"From a trap you claim you didn't set? Under whose orders then is your henchman …" Obi-Wan stopped. Grievous's words from the previous session drifted back to him.

_"You are correct; I did serve Lord Sidious at the beginning of the war. However, recent events have made me realize that my interests and his no longer coincide. He wants to rule the Republic. I intend to destroy it. And so I have broken away from his control."_

Sidious's voice returned. _So he has told you. Arrogant of him. Foolish, too._

"Wait," Obi-Wan said slowly. "He said that you had no idea that he had escaped your control!"

_He underestimates me, a foolish error in itself. He does not realize that if I am very well informed about these sort of things. I know all about his plan._

Plan … Grievous had mentioned a plan, and a project. Something in his tone had made Obi-Wan very uneasy. And he had said it would be ready soon. What was it?

"You know about his plan?" he addressed the Sith. "Why don't you stop it?"

_I don't know where he is developing his weapon. If I did, I would act. But he has managed to keep it a secret, even from me. All I know is what he has started to build: A weapon of such incalculable power that it can destroy an entire planet._

"An entire planet?" Obi-Wan exclaimed incredulously. "No weapon created by a living being is powerful enough to destroy an entire planet! You expect me to believe this?"

_Let me show you._

The blackness around Obi-Wan faded. He was suddenly aware of light so bright it stung his eyes. He immediately shut them, but that did little to block out the intensity. After a minute, he opened his eyes. When he did, he cried out in surprise.

He was floating in space.

Wait … no he wasn't. He was still standing on the cold stone floor of his cell. His eyes were not besieged with light from a nearby star. He was seeing all of this with his mind.

He faced the enormous blue-white star that had assailed him at first, flanked all around by thousands of miniature light, some of them millions of light years away, but all of them as radiant as the one he was looking at now. How could he have ever hated being in space? The universe was not cold and dark, it was full of light and warmth and tranquility.

_Look over there._

Sidious's voice drew Obi-Wan toward away from the reverent star. He peered in the direction that Sidious's voice had indicated. A small, rocky planet, barely larger than most moons, hung in lonesome orbit. One look at the rock convinced Obi-Wan that nothing could possibly live there. There were no apparent resources of any kind, and the planet probably didn't even have enough gravity for a significant atmosphere.

Yet on the far side, there was a light. It was barely large enough to be seen from this distance, but the fact that he could see it from here meant that the source must be enormous, on par with Coruscant's largest factories.

"What is that?" he asked.

_It's a mining facility_, Sidious told him. _From what I can gather, this anonymous planet has enormous quantities of very high grade ore. As you can see, so much has been harvested that the planet has actually begun to look deformed._

Sure enough, Obi-Wan noticed large depression in the surface. He had taken to be craters, but now he realized that they were too concentrated, and too deep. There were no asteroids in sight. Digging sites.

"Who could possibly need so much ore?" he demanded. "They're taking enough to re-build half of Coruscant!"

_Look. You will see._

Obi-Wan suddenly noticed that something had come into view from the far side of the planet. For a moment he thought it was a ship, but it was much too large. It must be a moon.

No, wait … it was too skeletal to be a moon. Unlike the planet it orbited, which was merely deformed on the surface, this thing had entire pieces missing. It was almost like a framework, like a superstructure …

Obi-Wan immediately felt a chill pass through his body that had nothing to do with Sidious's presence. _That's no moon. That's a space station._

It was at least a hundred and twenty kilometers across. The superstructure was currently incomplete, but outlined a perfect spherical structure that would house at least a million. And deep inside the framework, a faint glow was emanating: a reactor core large enough to power this monstrosity. As well as …

As the station rotated, a large concave depression came into view, the only irregularity on its otherwise symmetrical surface. At the center of the depression was a hole, a kilometer in diameter itself. Obi-Wan had seen something like this only once before. It was a focusing amplification lens, linked directly to the power core by the looks of it. Focusing energy from the massive reactor core through the lens, especially if there were more of them equally spaced along the perimeter, would generate a beam of energy with the intensity of a stellar core.

One capable of destroying an entire planet.

_A Death Star_.

The space station faded and the surrounding system faded, and once more Obi-Wan was in his cell. He was numb with horror. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever dreamed that the Confederacy would build something so lethal. Once completed, the station would be nearly indestructible. Grievous could go from system to system with impunity, destroying the Republic's planets one by one.

_Impressive, isn't it?_

Silently, Obi-Wan nodded. Indeed it was impressive. Any large scale construction of such ambition had to be admired, no matter what its intended purpose. But he had other questions he wanted answered.

"How?" he asked Sidious. "How have they been able to keep this a secret?"

_With great difficulty_, Sidious answered, _and with great lack of foresight. For the past several months, Grievous has been siphoning funds from every available source to finance this project, to supply it, to secure it, and to keep him up to date on its status. In doing so, he has bankrupted the Confederacy._

"How long has he been working on this?"

_Ever since he stole the plans from me. How long ago that was, I do not know._

"FROM YOU?" Obi-Wan exploded. "YOU commissioned this abomination?"

_I commissioned the _plans_. I intended to use it to break open dead planets and harvest the raw materials from the core. I had no intention of using it as a weapon._

Obi-Wan laughed incredulously. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

_Think about it, Kenobi. I want to preserve the Republic. To remake it. Why would I destroy what I intend to rule? That is hardly the action of a wise governor._

Obi-Wan was silent. As much as he didn't want to admit it, what Sidious said made sense. If the Sith intended to rule the galaxy, destroying half of it was not very smart.

Finally, he spoke. "If you don't want this weapon used, why don't you just dispose of Grievous? With him gone, surely the project would be forgotten."

_If Grievous dies, the location of the weapon dies with him. I have no doubt he has prepared for the possibility of his death by commissioning the commander of the station to attack the Republic if he does not hear from the General for a time. If I force my hand, Grievous will destroy all evidence, and any hope of stopping him will be lost. And that is why I need your help._

"Me?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise. "What do you need me for?"

_I need your help to save the Republic._

"So you can rule it?" Obi-Wan snarled. "Remake it in your own image? Find someone else to do your dirty work. I will _never_ join you."

_I am not asking you to._

"What?"

_Enemies we may be, Kenobi, but at the moment we have a common interest. We cannot allow Grievous to succeed in his plan, no matter what the cost. Sometimes you must sacrifice what is right to do what is necessary. If you let your principles guide you now, the Republic will be destroyed. You have sworn an oath as a Jedi to defend the Republic to your last breath. You have the power to save it from annihilation now. Take it. Use it. Let your heart guide you. It will not steer you wrong. I can help you do this. Once we have defeated this threat, no oath save your own will bind you to me any longer._

His heart. His emotions. All his life he had, on some level or another, tried to hide them. He had concealed the depth of his affection to keep those that he cared about safe. Now, their only chance for those he cared about was for him to stop denying and accept. Accept his fear. Accept his passion. Accept his anger.

Accept the darkness.

"Are you saying," he asked slowly, "That if I agree to help you stop Grievous, you will release me? You won't try and force me to serve your purpose?"

_That is correct._

"It sounds like a typical Sith lie," Obi-Wan snapped. "How do I trust you? The darkside is treacherous. It twists everything you say and do."

_Is the darkside really treacherous? Fear, anger, and passion are all natural, essential human emotions. Without them, we would not exist. Treachery does not stem from the darkside. It is a concept derived from sentient minds. You know this. You have experienced it._

Yes, he had. The Jedi Council. They had betrayed him. They had abandoned him for no reason, except as a political ploy to shift the balance of the Council. His honor stained. His name tarnished. Did this group deserve his loyalty? Could he ever forgive them?

Of course he could. He was a Jedi. Even if he didn't feel like a Jedi any more.

His friends … the Republic … Grievous could take it all away so easily. Sabé was fading. The Republic was in peril. Anakin … Anakin was to be Grievous's next target.

No! He couldn't let it happen. Yet as of now, he was powerless.

Sidious, his enemy, was offering him a way out. Did he dare to take it? Should he exchange his current position for an even more perilous one? The alternative was to stay in this prison and watch as all that he had ever cared for was destroyed.

His morals were pointless unless they served a greater purpose than himself. They were doing him no good in this hell.

_Let us set aside our differences. Let us be allies in this._

"What do want me to do?" Obi-Wan asked. "How can I escape?"

_The drugs that reside in your system are specially designed to cut you off from the Force. But they are not insurmountable, if you have the right motivation. A strong enough surge of emotion will overcome the blockage and burn the drug from your system. With the Force, you can break the bonds Grievous has placed on you. I still have influence with him. I believe I can persuade him to set you free if I claim that you could be an ally. Under my tutelage, you will regain your strength and be able to uncover the location of his weapon. When the time is right, you will confront him and destroy him. The menace to the Republic will be ended once and for all._

"And after that," Obi-Wan asked, "you'll just … let me go?"

_Yes. If you wish._

Obi-Wan still didn't believe it. Yet if he pretended to cooperate, he would be able to escape. And then, for the first time, he would be in control. He would defeat the threat to the Republic, avenge himself upon Grievous, and if Lord Sidious forced his hand, the galaxy would be Sith Lord-free once more.

_Your moment is at hand_, Grievous, he thought. _Soon you will face me like a man or you will die like a coward._

And he would be at peace.

He suddenly noticed that he was alone. Sidious had gone, leaving Obi-Wan alone once more in his cell, his mind untouched. The blackness was as deep as ever. The only light was the silent, dark flame burning in Obi-Wan Kenobi's chest, growing steadily hotter.

* * *

We've been with Obi-Wan awhile now. The next post is going back to Anakin, Padme, Sabe and Mace, and then ...

Obi-Wan's fall will reach terminal velocity. It won't be long.


	17. The Power of Life

**Chapter 17**

_"Anakin," Padmé shrieked. "Help me!" _

Once again, Anakin reached desperately for his wife, trying to get to her side, to protect her from the end he knew was coming. Once again, a force stronger than any he could muster held him back. He yelled; she could not hear him .His beloved Padmé continued to suffer, alone, while he watched helplessly.

"You are not listening, young Skywalker."

Anakin whirled to face the entire Jedi Council assembled behind him. Pablo-Jill spoke again. "We have told you many times. Attatchment is forbidden. You must learn to let go. You must allow this to happen."

"Don't you DARE tell me that!" Anakin raged. "She's my wife!"

"She shouldn't be. The Balance cannot be disturbed. It is necessary."

Padmé screamed again.

Anakin took a menacing step forward. "So I am to abandon her? Just like you abandoned Obi-Wan? Never! I'll die first."

A trickle of blood slid down Padmé's face.

"Master Windu!" Anakin shouted to the silent Jedi Master. "Please! I have to save her!"

Mace's eyes showed deep regret, yet he did not waver. "It is necessary."

"Master Yoda!" Anakin yelled. "Please!"

The old Jedi Master leaned heavily on his stick. "It is necessary."

Padmé's screams reached a climactic pitch, and them began to fade. Anakin threw himself madly at her, trying desperately to hold her before she slipped away.

"Anakin," Padmé gasped, a faint smile appearing on her tearful, bloodstained face. "Be good. I'm so sorry. I love …"

Her eyes closed, and head relaxed onto her shoulder.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Anakin whirled around, lightsaber in hand and ignited, fully intending to cut down every one of the treacherous Jedi Council who had allowed his angel to die.

But the Jedi Council had disappeared. In their place there stood only a single, dark robed figure, whose face was hidden by shadows. The demon laughed mockingly and ignited its own blue saber. He charged to meet Anakin. Their blades met in a storm of fire …

"Suspended."

Chancellor Palpatine slumped back in his chair shaking his head in disbelief at the report that lay discarded on his desk. "Unthinkable. Unbelievable. Completely out of order. After I told them … suspended."

Anakin Skywalker stared stonily at the Chancellor from across the desk, watching as the great man rambled on about the report he had just delivered. Tilting his head back to the ceiling, he closed his eyes, waiting for the Chancellor to stop. As much as he appreciated Palpatine's concern, this was getting tiresome.

He didn't need to hear any more about the report. His eyes were sore from all the time he had spent reading and re-reading every word. It was now etched onto his brain so deeply that he didn't even have to consult it anymore.

_Most Esteemed Chancellor Palpatine, _

It is our deep regret to inform you that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has recently fallen in the line of duty. A great and noble Jedi and patriot, he is mourned by all of us here in the Jedi Temple. However, his death has left open a spot on the Jedi Council and at our recent session we endeavored to fill it. We are pleased to announce the acceptance of Jedi Master Cin Drallig, who we are confident will serve the Republic and the Jedi well.

However, we have another concern. Your appointed member, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, objected very strongly to Master Drallig's appointment. He actively tried to disrupt the election and went so far as to threaten other members of this Council. Upon Master Drallig's conformation, he broke serious policy by leaving a Council meeting while it was still in session.

These actions are unacceptable in one who represents the Jedi Order, and one many of us have such high hopes for. It is therefore our duty to inform you that until further notice, Anakin Skywalker has been indefinitely suspended from the Jedi Council. We regret that it came to this, but he will maintain his title as your representative and upon reconciliation, he will be reinstated.

Yours in Fellowship,

Following were a list of the Masters' names.

Finally Palpatine looked up, his face a mixture of pity and anger. "Anakin," he said apologetically, "I am very sorry about this. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the Council would go so far."

He stood up and crossed over to Anakin's side of the desk. "I will contact them immediately and get you reinstated. You will be back on the Council in no time."

Anakin remained seated. "If it's all the same to you, Chancellor, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Palpatine looked taken aback. "What?"

"The Council wouldn't appreciate it if you intervened on my behalf," Anakin said. "Besides, I'm not in a hurry to return. At my hearing they gave me an opportunity to speak in my own defense. I declined."

Palpatine looked, if possible, even more startled. "Why?"

"I don't need to justify my actions," Anakin said coldly. "Not to them. Not after what they did."

"Ah," Palpatine nodded in sudden understanding. "Master Kenobi."

Anakin's throat tightened. "Yes."

Palpatine sighed and made his way back around the desk. "Anakin, I can't tell you how sorry I am about the loss of Master Kenobi. Obviously I didn't know him as well as you did, but he has performed so many services for the Republic and for me personally that I can't even begin to express my appreciation for them. I always considered him a friend."

Anakin forced a smile. "I'm sure he felt the same way. I know he had his disagreements with you, but …"

"But he always set them aside when his duty required it," Palpatine finished. "He is a great man."

"Is?" Anakin asked. "You believe that he's still alive?"

"I had my doubts," Palpatine said, "And the lack of concrete information on his whereabouts had me very skeptical indeed. But you, Anakin, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, have kept your faith in him. You still believe that he is alive. And that, my friend, is good enough for me."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Anakin said gratefully. Here at least, was one person who did not perceive him as being blinded by grief or in irrational denial, one person who had not given up on Obi-Wan. Palpatine still believed. The thought was comforting, somehow.

"However, Anakin," Palpatine said seriously, "I'm afraid I still don't understand why you no longer want to be on the Jedi Council. You told me, years ago, that it was what you aspired to. Your determination impressed me greatly. But now, after you have finally achieved your goal, you are throwing it away. Why?"

Anakin's face hardened. He knew exactly why. He had been thinking about it ever since he had disobeyed the Masters and left the Council Chamber.

"When I entertained that goal," he said coldly, "I had no idea that in realizing it I would be binding myself to a group of amoral, backstabbing cowards."

Palpatine raised his eyebrows in great surprise. "That's strong imagery."

"They deserve it," Anakin said flatly. "I'd go into more vivid descriptions, but I don't think you want to hear a long rant of vulgarities in Basic and Huttese. It would probably make your head spin."

Palpatine laughed. "On the contrary, Anakin, I can assure you that it would make my day." His expression became more serious. "But perhaps it would be better if you restrained yourself. There are other, more productive outlets for your anger."

Anakin stiffened slightly. That last line had unnerved him slightly. But why should it? Palpatine was right.

Palpatine looked down at the report once again. "Master Windu signed this as well, I see. Strange. I would have thought he would have stood by you, not endorsed this travesty."

"He didn't," Anakin said, "He was the only one who spoke up against the suspension, and he was very disappointed when I didn't speak for myself. In the end, he only signed because the majority compelled him too. As a Senior Council member, he had to abide by the decision."

"I see." Palpatine still looked doubtful. "Perhaps he didn't actively persecute you then. Maybe he had enough prudence to put aside jealousy. Master Jill, apparently, did not."

Anakin immediately felt a wave of rage at the mention of that Master's … no, that _traitor's_ name. It had taken all his self-control to keep from using his lightsaber to burn the half-hidden smirk from that arrogant lizard's face during his hearing. If he ever saw Pablo-Jill like that again, another check by his conscience was doubtful.

_Jealousy._ The jealousy of others had taken Obi-Wan, and now it was destroying him. And he could do nothing. He was powerless. Here he was, the Chosen One, ordained by the Prophecy to bring balance to the Force, and he couldn't keep those that he cared about from being taken from him. First his mother, then Obi-Wan, and now … Padmé.

The vision from last night came back to him full force. Padmé's beautiful, anguished face. Their unborn child gone, its life snuffed out before it even had a chance to live. The Council, holding him back. And the dark figure.

_It is necessary._

"Anakin?" Palpatine's voice, full of concern, brought him back to reality. "Are you alright? Something is troubling you deeply. I can feel it."

"Just a little tired, Chancellor," Anakin said. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

The concern on Palpatine's face grew. "Are you sure that there's nothing I can do?"

"Nothing, Chancellor." Anakin stood up. "I should be going."

Palpatine sighed. "If you must."

Anakin made his way slowly towards the door. He should have asked. The situation was becoming more desperate. His misgivings about Palpatine's help were nothing compared to the consequences of his fears …

Padmé's face swam in front of him once again, floating by in a cloud of fire.

_It is necessary._

"Wait," Anakin turned around to face Palpatine again. "There is something."

Palpatine looked up attentively. "What, Anakin?"

"The story you told," Anakin said quickly, "About Darth Plaugeis and the power to save people from death. You said you knew more about the power. That all I had to do was ask."

He took a deep breath. "I want to learn it."

A strange look passed over Palpatine's face. "You do? May I ask why?"

"People around me are dying," Anakin said. "People I care about. I can't do anything to save them. But I can't just accept that. There must be a way. The Jedi can't help. You could show me."

The Chancellor's still inscrutable face began to unnerve him. "Of course, I understand that you're very busy. If you don't have the time …"

Palpatine's face split into a wide grin. "For you, Anakin, I have all the time in the galaxy."

Standing up, he crossed back around the desk to Anakin's side. He closed the door and locked it, then walked back to stand in front of Anakin.

"The power to control the midi-chlorians is very, very difficult to master. Only one have achieved it, though many others have tried and failed. I believe that with your extraordinary talents, you can accomplish it. However, I can only guide you along. You must ultimately do this yourself, once you have achieved the necessary state of mind."

Anakin closed his eyes and began to clear his mind of all emotion.

"No," Palpatine interrupted. "Don't clear your mind. The Jedi way of purging emotion and detaching yourself will not succeed here. Your emotions are what give you strength. Embrace them."

Anakin let the flurry of worry, anger, doubt, and determination return. They wrapped around his mind tightly, compressing his thoughts and bringing a surge of adrenaline. Anakin breathed it in.

"Stretch out with your feelings," Palpatine told him. "Incorporate all that you can touch into your perceptions, then focus it into one point of concentration. Let this entire room come together as a single entity."

Anakin reached out. The rooms components; metal or wood, dark or light, alive or not; coalesced into a complex, yet concentrated web, criss-crossed with thousands of crystalline connections. He could see how if he nudged with the Force _here_, then that part would move _ther_e, which would in turn affect that part over _there_. The greatest number of connections seemed to run to, from, and between the rooms two brightest entities, Palpatine and himself.

"Do you see it?" Palpatine asked. "Can you feel everything?"

"Yes," Anakin said. His voice sounded distant.

"Good," Palpatine said. "Now look over there."

Anakin followed the connection Palpatine had indicated until he arrived at its source; a tall, proud, and beautiful, but clearly dying plant. Its stem was oddly twisted, its leaves listless, and its buds unopened.

"A Nubian Angel's Tear," Palpatine told him. "One of the rarest and most beautiful flowers on Naboo. They grow only in the mountain regions, at the site of one of Naboo's last battles during the Great Sith War. Thousands died in that battle, and the flowers, which are a symbol of remembrance for the fallen, are highly prized. I was able to procure one recently, but unfortunately, my duties as Supreme Chancellor have prevented me from taking adequate care of it. The flowers fade quickly when they are taken from their natural environment, and they require special and extensive care to maintain them. As you can see, this one is dying."

Anakin swallowed. Padmé had mentioned those flowers once. She had told him that she had seen them as a little girl and that they were the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. Just thinking of Padmé and the flower made his heart ache. An Angel's tear. His wife's life.

"But all is not lost," Palpatine said. "With the power of the Force, you can save it."

"How?" Anakin asked desperately. Padmé's face was still hovering in his mind, superimposing itself with the flower.

"Follow the tiny pulses of life deep down into the plant. Deep, deep into the cells. There you will find your key."

Anakin plunged in, immersing himself in the faint current of life still trickling through the plant's veins. All around him he felt the tiny dots of light that shone like bright beacons in the murky darkness.

"Do you see them? The midi-chlorians?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "Thousands of them."

"Do not be intimidated by the amount. Once you reach enough of them, they will all respond. They are yours to command. Talk to them. Tell them what you want them to do."

"How?"

"Show them a mental image of what you want. Then direct them to achieve it."

Anakin concentrated, forming in his mind a picture of a healthy, strong flower in full bloom. He reached out to the midi-chlorians, asking them to make it happen. They did not respond. He tried harder, impressing the picture upon every one of them. Still nothing.

"Not like that," Palpatine instructed. "You are not being forceful enough. They do not listen to requests, only demands. Order them."

Anakin tried again, this time pouring more authority into his attempts, commanding them to listen. A few of the lights began to respond. But the rest continued as before.

"You need a strong source of power," Palpatine told him. "You have it within you. Let your anger rise. Let it drive your will. Make them _fear_ you. Then they will obey."

Anakin hesitated. He shouldn't. His anger was too strong already. If he let it take over now, it could tip the balance. It could drive him over the edge.

Padmé's face flashed before him once more. His angel. His flower. She would die. He would be powerless to stop it.

_It is necessary._

Anakin let his anger free.

All the taunts he had endured, all the enemies whom had mocked him, whom he had slain, the Tuskens who had taken his mother, Dooku who had taken his hand, the General who had taken his brother, and the dark figure who would take his wife. And the Council. The Council that had doubted him, that had not trusted him, that had abandoned its morals and honor for corruption and political intrigue, that would stand by and let Padmé die.

He channeled all of this into his image, commanding the midi-chlorians that they listen to him _now_, that they come awake and do his biding.

They tiny dots of light began to respond.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster they began to move, zooming in and out of his field of vision faster than his eyes could register them. The darkness began to fall back as the light from the midi-chlorians shone brighter and brighter. Anakin kept up his wave of rage, churning it into power.

Live, he ordered them. _Live!_

The light became blinding. Anakin held on tighter …

"Enough!"

Palpatine's voice pulled Anakin back to consciousness. He opened his eyes.

He was still standing in the Chancellor's office, but the sky had grown darker. It had been light when he had first come. How long had he been there?

_Look._

Nervously, dreading what he might see, Anakin turned his eyes toward the Nubian Angel's Tear.

The flower, which had previously been twisted and listless, stood erect and proud. The dullness of the leaves was gone, replaced by healthy green, almost glowing aura. And on the highest stem, where there had previously been a tightly closed bud, there was a brilliant, blood-red flower, pulsing with vibrant life energy. The flower seemed to shine.

A smile passed over Palpatine's face. "Perfect."

Anakin collapsed against the wall. He was completely drained. It felt like he had just fought seven consecutive lightsaber duels. Sweat poured down his neck, and he doubted that he could use the Force to do so much as lift a cup.

Palpatine clapped Anakin's shoulder. "Anakin, that was incredible. Your first attempt! A complete success!"

"Thank you, Chancellor," Anakin gasped.

"It will be easier the next time, I promise," Palpatine told him. "You needed to overcome your initial reluctance to use your anger. I know that the Jedi have ingrained their mantras on you, but you were able to succeed despite their conditioning!"

Anakin said nothing. His wind was returning, but he was still shaken. If the Jedi Council ever found out what he had just done, he would be expelled in an instant.

"We will continue this," Palpatine said, striding back to his desk and sitting down. "In time, you will master it completely. Once you have realized your full potential, nothing will stop you."

Anakin detached himself from the wall and stood in front of the desk. "When should I come again?"

Palpatine sighed. "A few days. I would like it to be sooner, but there is another commitment which already demands my time. You see, with the war winding down, for the first time in years I have been able to clear time in my schedule to visit my family."

"Your family?" Anakin was surprised. He had never thought of the Chancellor as being a family man. Somehow, he had never thought of him as being anything other than the Supreme Chancellor, concerned only about the welfare of his Republic. This had been a foolish assumption, he supposed.

"Yes," Palpatine smiled, "My family. Or as near of family as I have. I have no wife, no children of my own, but my brother and his wife have always welcomed me, and their son, my nephew Vadren." He shook his head in disbelief. "I suppose he's almost grown up now."

"I take it you haven't seen him much," Anakin said.

"Not nearly enough," Palpatine said, "But I have very high hopes for him. My brother recently started to educate him in a whole new discipline. Thus far, he has been progressing brilliantly."

Anakin smiled. "You must be very proud."

"I am," Palpatine said, grinning. "After he graduates, maybe I could persuade him to come and visit me for a few days. You could meet him. You are a very much alike. I'm sure the two of you would get along like brothers."

Anakin laughed. "We'll see about that."

"Yes we will," Palpatine said, winking.

Anakin headed for the door. "Goodbye, Chancellor. Give my regards to your family."

Palpatine nodded his thanks. Anakin unlocked the door and left the office.

The moment he was out of sight, a cruel smile spread across Palpatine's face.

"Oh I will, my young apprentice," he hissed. "I will."

* * *

OK, so I lied.

There's going to be one more post with Anakin. Padme and Sabe will make appearences, as well as Master Windu and ... everyone's least favorite Jedi Master (Three guesses who). For all of those who hate him, I think you'll rather enjoy the next post.

Then we'll get back to Obi-Wan.


	18. An Insolent Manner

**Chapter 18**

"No, Bail," Padmé said firmly, trying to keep her irritation under wraps. "I already told you, I have no possible idea how there could have been a leak. We're perfectly secure on this end."

Bail Organa's face did not convey any sense of being reassured. "You're positive that you double checked everyone? All your security guards? Your secretaries? Your handmaidens?"

"Triple checked, Bail."

"No imposters? No suspicious activity?"

"No!" Padmé exclaimed. "For the love of the Force, Bail, why are you so uptight about this? They didn't find anything, did they?"

"No," Bail sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But having Senate Security and Executive Guards tearing up my office looking for incriminating evidence is not something we can take lightly."

How do you know that this wasn't a random inspection?" Padmé asked. "Surely if Palpatine suspected us, he wouldn't go and do something this obvious to tip us off about his suspicions."

"Probably not," Bail shrugged. "I'm guessing that one of his lower officers received some kind of tip and acted without clearing it with him. That would be good to know, but finding out will be very difficult. Palpatine keeps the doings of his branch private from most Senate proceedings. Another one of his amendments."

Padmé sighed. "Bail, I'm sorry about this. But if there is a leak, it's probably at your end."

"That's what I was afraid of," Bail said bitterly. "I was so careful! All of my assistants have proved that they're trustworthy over and over again. I can't believe that one of them would betray my confidence!"

"Maybe it wasn't intentional," Padmé offered. "Palpatine's agents could have pried it out of one of them without them even realizing it. They specialize in that."

Bail smiled faintly. "I hope that's the case."

"If it is, you'd be wise to reduce your staff," Padmé suggested. "Keep only those you trust the most and be very specific with them about what not to say."

Bail nodded. "I'll do that."

"I'm sorry our meeting had to be like this," Padmé said apologetically. "If this alliance is going to work, we all have to be open and cooperate with each other."

"I know," Bail said. "It's frustrating sometimes. There's so little we can do to openly affect the chain of events without compromising ourselves."

"The Alliance is still young," Padmé said reassuringly. "Over time, we will learn more effective ways to preserve the Republic's ideals."

"I hope so," Bail said. He cast his glance around the room. "How's Sabé? I heard that she was ill."

Padmé's tone did not quite manage to conceal the worry she felt. "She's been convalescent for days and rarely comes out of her room. The doctors say she's not sick. Grief and shock was their diagnosis. Nothing they can do except wait for it to pass."

Bail looked down. "I'd heard that something had happened to Obi-Wan."

"How do you know that?" Padmé asked. "It was never announced to the Senate or the general public."

Bail looked up and smiled faintly. "He was a friend, Padmé. A very good friend. I made it a priority to know what happened. A Jedi I know and served with at Raxus Prime told me about it. "

His look became curious. "I know that you were close friends with him as well. How did you here about it?"

Padmé's expression became guarded. "Anakin told me."

Bail looked worried. "How is he doing? I thought that he might have turned to you for support. You are good friends, aren't you?"

Padmé managed to keep her face neutral. "Yes, we are."

"Anyway, do you think that Sabé's condition might be related to Obi-Wan's disappearance?" Bail asked. "I know that they were getting to know each other well since he returned from the Outer Rim. Maybe she was more connected to him than we expected."

Padmé nodded. "The possibility has crossed my mind."

"Well," Bail sighed, "I should be going. Give Sabé my best. And keep an eye out, Padmé. Both for yourself and for anything suspicious."

Padmé nodded and extended her hand. "You too, Bail. Be careful."

Bail shook Padmé's hand and then left.

Padmé closed the door behind him, then turned and collapsed on the couch. Another long day. More plot and intrigue. Few definite results.

The raid on Bail's office was just one of several occurrences that led her to believe that Palpatine was suspicious of their activities. Mon Mothma had been called in for questioning a few days ago. She had been released, but was severely shaken afterward and refused to talk about what had happened. Giddean Danu had had his security clearance downgraded on reports of 'conspiratorial activity'. And just yesterday, one of Fang Zar's most loyal and trusted aides had simply disappeared.

It did indeed seem as though the noose was being tightened. And the worst part was, she couldn't help any of them because none of them could give away their involvement.

Padmé laid back, closed her eyes, and tried to shift her mind to something else. It would have greatly helped if Anakin or Sabé were here for her to talk to. But Sabé was in her apartment, exhausted and grief-stricken, and Anakin hadn't checked in for days.

Instead, she let her mind drift back to Naboo; to her mother and her father, to her sister Sola and brother-in-law Darred, to her two little nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, and the secluded Lake Country that she loved. Her mind painted her a beautiful picture. Ryoo and Pooja running through a vast green meadow near the towering waterfalls, trying to catch their father Darred and Anakin as they ducked and dodged, finally collapsing on the ground in mock surrender, to the little girls' delight. Darred carried the two girls on his shoulders back to Sola, who laughed as they jumped into her arms, smudging her face and her dress. Her mother and father simply stood there, their quiet smiles expressing the joy they felt at being able to see this. Padmé herself stood in the middle, holding her new child in her arms. Anakin came to stand beside her, drawing her into his embrace. As she folded herself into his arms, basking in the love and warmth, she felt a new emotion: completion.

Somehow, even the troubling events of reality could not dim this picture.

The door to her apartment slid open, and Padmé looked up, her reverie broken.

Sabé had entered the room. Her head was down, and Padmé wasn't sure that she even knew she was there. She was wearing a plain, dark blue handmaiden dress that looked surprisingly well-kempt. But her hair was a tousled mess and her eyes were puffy and red from obvious crying.

"Sabé!" Padmé exclaimed.

Sabé looked up, startled.

"Padmé!" She stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't … I didn't know you were here. I just … I mean … I'll just go."

She hastily made her way back towards the door. Padmé, however, stood up quickly and took Sabé's arm, guiding her back to the couch. "Nonsense. There's no reason for you to go. It's been awhile since I've seen you. Sit down."

"No really, Padmé," Sabé mumbled. "I just came to get something and go back to my apartment. I'll be out of your way in a minute."

"Sabé," Padmé said firmly, her voice clearly stating that she would brook no argument. "This holing up in your room is not healthy. I understand that you're very upset, but this is not the way to make yourself feel better. You need to talk, you need to exercise, you need to do something other than brood. Here, I'll make you some tea."

Sabé tried to protest, but Padmé sat her down and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a pitcher and two large, steaming mugs, one of which she pressed into Sabé's hands. "Drink that. It'll warm you up."

Sabé took a tentative sip. "Padmé, you don't need to do this. You're probably tired …"

"Me? Tired?" Padmé laughed wistfully. "When we were little I was the one who would stay up all night at our sleepovers, even when you pleaded with me to go to bed. Working sixteen hour days is a habit for me. You're the one I'm worried about."

Sabé took another sip. "Padmé, I'm fine."

Padmé's voice became serious again. "No, Sabé. You're not fine. You're exhausted. You haven't been sleeping and you probably haven't been eating. You haven't emerged from your room for more than a few minutes a day for nearly two weeks. It has to stop. Tell me what's bothering you."

Sabé said nothing.

Padmé sighed. "It's Obi-Wan, isn't it?"

Sabé's hands trembled.

Padmé placed an arm around Sabé's shoulders. "Sabé, I'm sure he's alright."

"How do you know?" Sabé asked. "How does _anyone_ know? They don't. They can _say_ he's alright, but if he was, he'd be back by now …" she stopped.

"Obi-Wan is resourceful," Padmé said soothingly, "And he is one of the strongest willed people that I know. If anyone can pull through, he can."

"But what he doesn't?" Sabé demanded, tears glistening in her eyes again. "He promised that he'd come back to me. But what if he can't?"

Padmé rubbed Sabé's shoulder. "I understand."

"No, you don't!" Sabé burst out, shaking off Padmé's arm and standing up. "You have no idea! You don't know what it's like to have someone that you care about out _there_, with no contact, everyone presuming them dead, and all you can do is pray …" She stopped. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands.

Padmé looked away, her face calm, but clearly masking a deluge of internal torment. She knew all too well. Anakin had been gone for long stretches at a time over the past three years, sometimes as long as six months. There had been no contact, no official reports, except for vague whispers that somewhere, on some distant, cold Force-forsaken world in the Outer Rim, that the Hero Without Fear had fallen. Unable to confess her worries to anyone, and unable to assuage them, Padmé had gone through hell in those six months, every day waking up to a cruel galaxy full of fear.

Sabé lowered her hands and sat back down. "Padmé," she breathed. "I'm so sorry. I just … I just …"

Padmé kept her gaze averted. "It's alright."

"No," Sabé said. "I've upset you terribly. I should leave."

Padmé shook her head. "Don't."

"Are you sure?"

Padmé turned and smiled, her eyes still shining. "We always forgive each other, don't we? You were bottling that up. You needed to let it out. I understand."

Sabé refilled the mugs and gave one to Padmé. "You're right. I've been too withdrawn these last two weeks. I should be ashamed of myself."

"No, you shouldn't," Padmé said. "It's alright to grieve, and it's alright to cry. But we can't let sorrow rule our life. If we do, we destroy ourselves. Sooner or later, the darkness will always give way to the light."

Sabé laughed. "You sound like a Jedi."

Padmé smiled broadly. "I'm married to one, aren't I?"

"Glad to see that you're learning from each other," Sabé said teasingly. "Maybe he can teach you lightsaber techniques next so that you can spar with deadliest politicians."

Padmé threw a couch cushion at her. "Now you're just being silly."

Sabé dodged, then her voice became more serious. "Where is Anakin anyway? I haven't seen him in days."

"He's been very busy lately," Padmé said. "I haven't seen him much either. Jedi Council duties, I expect."

"Well if I know Anakin, he won't let things like that keep him from you," Sabé grinned. She got up. "I feel so much better now, Padmé. Thank you."

Padmé returned the grin. "You'd do the same for me."

"Count on it," Sabé turned and headed for the door. "I'm going to go take a shower. I need it."

"Don't use all the hot water," Padmé called after her. "After all this, I'm going to need one myself."

Sabé smiled. "I won't."

Padmé lay back on the couch as Sabé left. It was good to see Sabé back to some semblance of her old self. No doubt she was still upset, but hopefully it was better now.

She checked the chronometer. It was late; she should probably go to bed. She had another full day of work ahead of her tomorrow. She wanted to stay up and wait for Anakin, but if he wasn't home yet he probably wasn't going to make it at all. Resignedly, Padmé absentmindedly began to straighten the couch. As she did so she placed her hand over her abdomen. Soon, the baby would be here. Then, maybe, she and Anakin could have a little time together.

The door behind her slid open again. Padmé quickly turned around.

Anakin was standing in the doorway. He looked as exhausted as Padmé felt, probably more so. Yet when he saw Padmé, he smiled. "Sorry I'm late, My Lady.'

Padmé ran up to him and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. "I thought you weren't going to make it," she said after they broke the kiss. "I was about to call it a night."

Anakin grinned. "I didn't want to disappoint you."

"How thoughtful," Padmé said playfully. She guided him back to the couch. "How was your day?"

Anakin's muscles tensed. She had said the wrong thing. "Let's not talk about it."

Padmé drew back. "Alright, but why? Maybe I can help you with it."

Anakin sighed. "Padmé, we're alone for the first time in days. Trust me, you don't want to know. It's nothing important."

Padmé grabbed Anakin's arm. "Anakin Skywalker, you are a terrible liar. You're acting calm, but I can tell that you're angry, you're worried, and now you're trying to hide it. We're not going to able to enjoy each other if you keep this up. What's going on?"

Anakin shrugged evasively. "Jedi disputes. Nothing new."

Padmé knew she was on to something. "Did something come up in the Council meeting?"

Anakin smiled bitterly. "I have no Council duties at the moment."

Padmé frowned. "Why not?"

Anakin sighed. "I've been suspended."

"What!" Padmé exclaimed, shocked. "Why?"

Anakin laughed coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The _official_ reason is for conduct detrimental to the proceedings and integrity of the Council." His eyes hardened. "The real reason is that I unmasked them all as cowardly opportunistic scum."

"Anakin!" Padmé gasped. "Surely you don't mean that."

"I mean every word," Anakin growled. "They don't merit respect after what they did."

"And what did they do?" Padmé pressed.

Anakin looked around uneasily. "Is Sabé here?"

"She was," Padmé said, "But she left just before you arrived. She seems to be doing much better, actually. What does that have to do with the Council?"

Anakin looked relieved. "That's good to know. But she still shouldn't hear about this. She's taking Obi-Wan's disappearance very hard."

"Obi-Wan?" Padmé asked. "This has something to do with Obi-Wan?"

"It has everything to do with Obi-Wan," Anakin sighed. "A few days ago, the Council had a meeting, supposedly to discuss Obi-Wan's disappearance and how to try and find him. But during the meeting, one of the Jedi Masters, Pablo-Jill, decided to nominate another Jedi Master to take Obi-Wan's place on the Council."

"What?" Padmé exclaimed. "But they don't even know if he's dead!"

"Apparently, the issue wasn't relevant," Anakin said, bitterness returning to his voice. "Even worse, Master Jill had been talking to the other Masters before the meeting, to make sure the nomination got passed. Master Windu and I were the only ones who didn't know. When he brought Cin Drallig before the Council, he had all the votes he needed to get Obi-Wan replaced."

Padmé didn't know what to say; she was speechless. Anakin continued.

"Voting another master off the Council is bad enough. But to do it for political reasons, ignoring the better good of the Jedi, and the way he did it …" Anakin's voice trailed off. "It took all my self-control not to smash his face in."

"And what happened then?" Padmé asked.

"I let him have it," Anakin smirked. "Laid into him in front of the entire Council. I accused him of being a treacherous low-life who had more respect for greedy diplomats than his loyal comrades. I branded him as a coward." A bitter laugh escaped Anakin's lips. "He didn't enjoy it too much."

"Anakin," Padmé said worriedly. "You were lucky not to be expelled!"

"I was past caring to tell you the truth," Anakin shrugged. "You have no idea how furious I was."

"What did he do?"

"After he stopped shaking, he called for a vote. Master Windu tried to get it delayed, but to no avail. Everyone except for Master Windu, Yoda, and me voted for the nomination. And just like that …" Anakin swallowed. "Obi-Wan was cast out."

"Anakin," Padmé breathed, putting her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," Anakin muttered. "It wasn't your fault."

After a minute, Padmé asked, "How did it end?"

"I was in shock, a kind of daze. I wasn't thinking too clearly. But two emotions were clear: disgust and anger. I couldn't stay there. I got up to leave. They tried to stop me."

"And?" Padmé prompted.

A smile appeared on Anakin's face. "I told them all to go to hell. Then I left."

"And then …" Padmé said slowly, "They suspended you."

"The next day," Anakin sighed. "They called me in for a hearing, and read the charges against me. I didn't respond. They offered me a chance to speak. I turned them down. And I was suspended."

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Padmé asked.

"Palpatine and Master Windu asked me the exact same question," Anakin said. "The Masters weren't looking for justification; they were trying to make me admit that I was in the wrong, so I would accept any conditions they chose to place on me. I wouldn't give them that."

Padmé tensed. "Palpatine? Palpatine knows about this?"

"That's why I was home so late," Anakin told her. "He wanted to talk to me. And then I went to the sparring room. I needed to beat the crap out of something."

Padmé smiled, but it quickly faded. "How did Palpatine find out?"

"The Council was obligated to inform him," Anakin shrugged. "And since he's the one who got me on the Council in the first place, he had a personal interest in the matter. He was quick to offer me condolences and he asked…" His voice trailed off.

"What did he ask?" Padmé pressed.

Anakin sighed. "Padmé, can we please stop talking about this? I've had enough of it for one day. Let's think about something else."

Padmé nearly protested, but she bit her tongue. "What do you want to talk about?"

A mischievous smile spread across Anakin's face. "To be honest, I'd rather not talk at all. We're alone for the first time in weeks, Padmé. Let's take advantage of it."

"An interesting proposition," Padmé's eyes sparkled. "Tempting, too. I might just have to take you up on it."

Anakin grinned. "On second thought, My Lady, I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe we should just go to bed."

Padmé slid onto Anakin's lap, pinning him to the couch. "Anakin Skywalker," she whispered seductively, "you have absolutely no say in the matter."

"In this case, My Lady" Anakin said, "I have no problem with that."

Padmé lips brushed his. "Shut up."

Anakin grinned even broader. "With pleasure."

He leaned forward, and kissed her. Padmé kissed him back even harder and for a moment, all their troubles were forgotten.

* * *

A loud beeping noise roused Anakin from his sleep. For a moment, he ignored it, sliding back under the sheet, but soon the noise became too distracting for him to ignore. Reaching over the still sleeping Padmé, he picked his comlik up off the nightstand. "Who is this?"

"Anakin," Mace Windu's voice came over the channel. He did not sound in the best of moods. "Where are you? I've been trying to reach you for half an hour."

Anakin immediately set up his mental shield. "I've been … talking with a friend."

"I see," Mace didn't sound convinced. "We need you at the Jedi Temple. How soon can you get here?"

"About ten minutes," Anakin said. "Why?"

"We need to talk," Mace said. "There's a Council meeting going on now."

"Master, I'm suspended from the Council."

"The meeting will be over by the time you get here," Mace told him. "Just get over here."

Anakin looked at his peacefully sleeping wife. "Can it wait?"

"No," Mace said. "I realize that it's late, and I'm sorry if I woke you up, but this is urgent."

Anakin rolled out of bed and started getting dressed. "All right, I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting for you in the situation room."

Anakin finished pulling on his tunic. Taking his lightsaber from the nightstand, he clipped it onto his belt next to his comlik. Hastily, he scribbled a note to Padmé explaining why he'd left. He place it on the pillow next to her head, then he leaned over and softly kissed her.

"Goodbye, Angel," He whispered.

Padmé stirred slightly before she rolled over and continued to sleep. Anakin took one last look at her, then left.

* * *

The Jedi Temple was quiet when Anakin arrived, although there were still several older padawans and masters wandering the halls. Several of them acknowledged Anakin with a smile or wave. Others whispered or stared at him with strange looks of distrust. Apparently news of his suspension had not been as contained as thought.

He found an open turbolift and took it up to the next floor. Two minutes later, he arrived outside the situation room. The door was shut. The meeting must not be over. Closing his eyes, Anakin leaned against the wall and waited.

The door slid open and the Masters began to file out in pairs. They immediately stopped their conversation when they noticed him standing next to the door. Shaak Ti gave him a sympathetic smile as she passed, but the others, such as Saesee Tiin, brushed past him as though he were part of the wall. Anakin returned this impassive treatment.

Pablo-Jill emerged last, talking with someone just inside the doorway. "Very well, when you're finished here come down to the Archives. I'll be waiting there."

The other voice – it sounded like Agen Kolar's – said something else, then Pablo-Jill nodded and started down the corridor, consulting a datapad. Anakin detached himself from the wall. Pablo-Jill looked up.

"Skywalker," he said coldly. Not Knight Skywalker or Jedi Skywalker or Anakin, just Skywalker. "What are you doing here? Surely we were clear in our report that you are suspended from _all_ Council proceedings."

Anakin smiled tightly. "I'm well aware."

"And yet here you stand," Pablo-Jill said. "As unrepentant and disrespectful as ever. Your arrogance may win you great acclaim as a hero all over the galaxy, but I will not tolerate it."

Anakin's smile twisted even more. "And yet here you stand."

Pablo-Jill's bright yellow face flushed dark. "Do not mock me, Skywalker. Let me tell you that you are extremely luck that Master Windu interceded on your behalf when it came time to discipline you. Had the decision been up to me, you would have been off the Council permanently."

Anakin laughed. "Good thing it's not up to you then, isn't it?"

Pablo-Jill chose to ignore this statement. "You still haven't answered my question, Skywalker. Why are you here?"

"Master Windu asked me to come," Anakin said impassively. "He told me that he wanted to discuss something."

"Master Windu is busy at the moment," Pablo-Jill said unpleasantly.

"I can see that," Anakin said, irritated. "Why do you think I'm standing here? Certainly not for the pleasure of your fine company."

Pablo-Jill scowled, and his voice dropped to almost a hiss. "Be careful, Skywalker. If you continue to act like this, not even Master Windu's guidance will save you. You may be the Chosen One, but that does not make you superior or above the rules, as you seem to think it does. Not everyone is in awe of you. We are not all as willing to overlook certain flaws as your late master. Arrogance is not the accepted Jedi way."

Anakin's hands tightened into fists and his voice became cold as ice.

"Neither is treachery."

Pablo-Jill's eye stalks quivered. "Treachery?" He asked disbelievingly. "I have served the Jedi Order loyally for longer than you have been alive, Skywalker. My dedication to the welfare of this Order and the Republic we serve is unparalleled. The Jedi code is my life. How _dare_ you accuse me of treachery!"

Anakin's lip curled. "I'm sure Obi-Wan would be greatly moved by that speech."

"Ah, so this is about your former friend and mentor," Pablo-Jill said. "You're still upset about Master Drallig's appointment to his seat. Skywalker, come to your senses. Master Kenobi was a valued member of the Jedi Order for many years, and as great a … _hero_ … as yourself. We are all well aware of his merit. But this is a practical manner. A dead man cannot preside on the Jedi Council."

Anakin took a step forward, his anger rising exponentially by the second.

"Obi-Wan is not dead!"

Pablo-Jill held his ground. "You are being delusional, Skywalker," he said coldly. "Master Kenobi is gone. Accept it. I had every right to make my motion, and the other Council members agreed with me. You hold no power in the minority, something your foolish master should have taught you. Contain your anger before you overstep your bounds."

"Forgive me," Anakin said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I must not have read the Jedi rule book carefully enough. Was there some Section 4, Paragraph 8 that states Jedi Masters have the reserved right to betray their comrades, abandon them for dead, and then spit on their name? If so, then I must have missed it. Perhaps you could fill me in, since you're so well-versed in that area."

Pablo-Jill's eyes narrowed. "Do not speak to me in that insolent manner, young Skywalker. Your position with the Council is tenuous enough as it is."

It happened in an instant. In a lightning-quick move, Anakin seized Pablo-Jill by the throat, spun him around, and slammed him with crushing force against the wall. He held the Jedi Master above the ground with one hand, their faces inches apart.

"_Insolent manner_?" Anakin hissed, his blue eyes blazing with rage. "How do you like _this_, you sniveling coward?"

His fingers tightened. Pablo-Jill gasped, clawing at Anakin's hold to no avail. His color went from yellow to grayish as oxygen was stolen from his lungs. Suspended above the ground, he had no physical power to resist. He tried to push the younger Jedi off of him with the Force, but his feeble attempt was crushed by the Chosen One's will. A flash of yellow shone in Anakin's eyes as he pushed harder …

"ANAKIN!"

Mace Windu and Agen Kolar had emerged from the situation room, conversing in low tones, but stopped at the sight of Anakin, an expression of pure hatred on his face, crushing Pablo-Jill against the wall. Agen Kolar's hand flew to his lightsaber, but Mace blocked his path. "Anakin, what are you doing? Release Master Jill at once!"

Anakin turned to look at Mace, but did not remove his hand from Pablo-Jill's neck. The Jedi Master made a faint gurgling sound.

"Anakin!" Mace said warningly.

Anakin pulled his hand away. Pablo-Jill immediately slid to the floor in a choking, trembling heap. Agen Kolar hurried to his side as Anakin backed away, breathing hard.

Mace kept his piercing gaze fixed on him. "Agen, please escort Master Jill to the medical wing immediately."

Master Kolar nodded. Grabbing Pablo-Jill by the shoulders, he pulled him to his feet. Pablo-Jill immediately collapsed back onto the floor, wheezing. Kolar tried again, only to get the same result. Master Jill apparently wasn't ready to stand up yet. Eventually, Kolar had to use the Force to levitate him off the ground. He made his way down the corridor, Pablo-Jill floating in front of him, his head rolling like a rag doll.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mace rounded on Anakin.

"Anakin, what in the Nine Corellian Hells were you thinking!"

Anakin met his gaze. "I got a little … carried away."

"You got more than that!" Mace exclaimed. "A direct assault in anger upon another member of the Order! You could be expelled for it!"

"I know."

"And yet you did it anyway?" Mace asked incredulously. "Why? What did he do?"

"He insulted Obi-Wan," Anakin snarled. "And he used the opportunity to gloat over my suspension."

"I can understand you being upset about that, but your action was still inexcusable," Mace said, shaking his head. "Anakin, you know that as a Jedi, you can never, ever, lash out in anger. It will cost you far more than you seek to gain."

"I'll keep that in mind next time," Anakin said flatly.

Mace studied his face closely. "You're not sorry, are you?"

Anakin's silence was the only answer he needed.

Mace sighed. "Anakin, come in here."

Anakin followed Mace into the situation room. It was now empty, save for a few datapads and still buzzing displays, showing projections of various worlds including Kashyyyk and Boz Pity. In the center of the room, Mace turned and faced Anakin.

"Anakin," he said seriously. "These last few days have been very disturbing. First you withdraw at the news of Obi-Wan's disappearance. At the Council meeting, you lash out at the Masters, walk out of the meeting, and get suspended. When called upon to explain yourself, you decline." He stopped and looked down. "And now this."

Anakin listened stonily. He did not speak.

Mace spoke slowly. "We are at a crucial stage in this conflict. The Seperatists are in retreat and the war is near end, but the Sith have yet to show their hand. Soon they will emerge and we will need to be ready. The time will come to restore balance to the Force." He looked up. "And yet at this crucial time, I feel like you're slipping away."

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of drawing into the Jedi Order," Mace said, "You are shunning it. Anger and confusion are dominating your actions more and more every day. When you returned from your mission to rescue the Chancellor, I remember being amazed at how far you had come, how you had mastered your anger and seemed prepared to truly embrace your destiny. Now you are more confused than ever before. What's happening to you?"

"Nothing, Master," Anakin said. Though he knew Master Windu meant well, his fears could not see the light.

Mace sighed. "This war has taken a toll on all of us, but you have endured loss beyond almost anyone I know. Before the conflict even truly began, you lost your mother, whom I know you loved deeply. The Force only knows how many friends and comrades you have had perish before your eyes. And just recently, you lost the closest thing to a father you had ever known. Each attachment broken brings a new wave of pain crashing against the walls of your heart. This is why the Jedi Order discourages these attachments. Yet despite everything we do, all the training we undergo, they still form. Why? Because we are alive. It is the nature of every sentient being in this galaxy to love, and that is no easy thing to suppress. Yet if we allow ourselves to be ruled by our passion, it can destroy us. Sometimes, it is necessary to let go."

_It is necessary._

"Are you telling me to sever my attachments?" Anakin asked, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "Are you telling me that I should cease to love?"

Mace shook his head. "No, Anakin. For while these attachments can be your greatest weakness, they are also your greatest strength, and an irreplaceable part of what makes you human. For many years, I could not see this. Because of this, I fear we have alienated you."

Anakin said nothing.

"We need you, Anakin," Mace said. "The Jedi Order and the Republic need you. Your friends need you. But every day, you are growing more and more distant. Anger burns within you; I can see it now. You have been hurt, and your automatic response it to retaliate. If you cannot accept this, if you cannot learn to surrender what gives you your strength, you will lose more than what you fight for. You will lose yourself."

The words had a profound impact on Anakin. He had never heard anything like this before. And to him, it was impossible. "What if I can't?"

"Then the darkness will claim us all," Mace said simply. "You must find a way to coexist with the Council."

Anakin's voice hardened. "My faith in the Council has been irrecoverably shattered."

Mace closed his eyes and rubbed his brow with his hand. "It is as I feared, then."

"They have abandoned the principles of the Republic and the Jedi Order," Anakin said, his throat constricting slightly as he spoke. "They were once great. Now they are as corrupt as the Senate. I cannot ignore that."

There was silence for an eternity. Then Mace opened his eyes and looked up. "You may go, Anakin."

Anakin bowed. "I'm sorry, Master."

He turned and walked up the stairs. At the very top, Mace's voice halted him. "Anakin."

He turned. "Yes?"

"If reconciliation is beyond your power, at least consider what I have said. Deep down, the spark of light and justice still lives. No matter how changed someone appears, no one is beyond redemption. There is good in this galaxy. You just have to know where to look."

Anakin stayed still for a moment, taking in Mace's statement. Then he nodded, ducked through the door and disappeared.

* * *

After Anakin had gone, Mace was silent for a long while. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be meditating, but the dark gloom of his mind made his thoughts unfathomable.

After a time, a light began blinking on the console and beeped softly. Mace opened his eyes, strode over to the display, and pushed the button. A life-sized image of Yoda appeared. He leaned heavily on his stick. "Well? Success, did you have?"

Mace shook his head. "That depends on your definition of success."

Yoda frowned. "Listened, did he?"

Mace nodded. "Yes, he listened. And he understood what I was saying. Does he believe it?" He sighed. "I'm not sure."

Yoda leaned even heavier on his cane. "Unfortunate, this is."

"The Jedi Order is crumbling," Mace stated. "We have already lost many of our greatest masters and knowledge of the Force." He met Yoda's tired gaze. "And now we're losing Anakin."

Yoda looked like he had expected Mace's statement. "Patience, you must have. Hope for Anakin, there still is."

"I'm worried." Mace admitted. "Losing Obi-Wan was a catastrophic blow. And there's something else troubling him. Something he keeps well hidden. If he cannot overcome it, he will fall to the Darkside. It's hold on him is already very strong."

"Many forces on him, there are," Yoda observed. "If choose he does not, tear him apart, they will."

Mace leaned forward. "What can we do, Master Yoda?"

Yoda closed his eyes. "Known it for years, I have. Clouded Skywalker's future is. Choose his own path, he must. Only time will tell. May the Force be with you."

Mace turned off the display. "May it be with us all."

Everything was changing. The futures of the Jedi, the Republic, and the lives of billions were at stake, balanced on the shoulders of one man who was trying to balance himself. A single step, in any direction, would tilt the entire galaxy onto a new path that would define it for years to come.

Only time would tell.


	19. Broken Chains

Hey everyone! Well, this is a critical chapter. After this, there is no going back. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed, and I promise I will respond to your comments on the next couple of chapters.

Enjoy!

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* * *

Chapter 19**

He awoke to anger.

Sidious's voice still echoed in his mind. For hours after the Dark Lord had left him, Obi-Wan had paced and thought, not speaking a word, but focusing all of his concentration on what Sidious had told him. The offer he had made. Obi-Wan had poured over the words tirelessly, looking for something. A catch, a hint, something that might reveal a hidden motivation. He had found nothing.

As far as he could tell, the Dark Lord was being honest. His argument seemed so reasonable, and his tone so sincere, that Obi-Wan inherently believed him. His Jedi side was trying desperately to convince him otherwise, but with each passing minute, Obi-Wan had grown more and more resolved in his conviction.

As his belief had grown, so had his anger. He only half-heartedly tried to stem its flow. The anger did not explode, but slowly and steadily increased, until it dominated his perceptions. Grievous's twisted metal face leered at him in his mind through a curtain of fire, those glaring yellow eyes mocking him relentlessly. Though he could not see through the blackness, he did not feel blind. On the contrary, his enemy was standing right in front of him, blocking out everything else. Obi-Wan had refused to break his gaze, letting his rage at the General support him as he locked wills. It made him feel focused, determined not to let Grievous triumph.

He didn't know when he had drifted off to sleep, or how long he had been out, but his aching muscles did not bother him. His heavy chains did not weigh him down. And his tormented mind was, for the first time in ages, sharp and focused. He felt fresh and rested, but his anger had not burned away.

The monstrous machine that he had seen earlier drifted back into his mind, a space station with enough firepower to destroy a planet. Sidious had claimed that after construction was complete, Grievous planned to mobilize the station and obliterate the Republic's worlds one by one. Such a force, if created, would be nearly impossible to stop. Billions of innocent lives would be lost. Trillions more would live in fear. The Republic would crumble, and anarchy would reign. All for the sadistic whims of a murderous cybrog.

Obi-Wan's fists clenched and he ground his teeth together. No! It would _not_ happen! Grievous had to be stopped, no matter what the cost. And Sidious knew how. Sidious was willing to show him. Willing to show him the power to destroy the General, to save the Republic …

However, in order to do that, he needed to escape. He pulled his arms forward until the chains were stretched taut. While they no longer weighed on him as heavily as before, they were still as strong and solid as ever. He remained a prisoner, at his enemy's mercy. If he was to save others, first he needed to save himself. He needed to escape.

Sidious's words floated back to him. _The drugs that reside in your system are specially designed to cut you off from the Force._

To escape, he needed the Force. Grievous had taken it from him, but there had to be a way to overcome it.

_The drugs that reside in your system are specially designed to cut you off from the Force. But they are not insurmountable, if you have the right motivation. A strong enough surge of emotion will overcome the blockage and burn the drug from your system._

The right motivation … what could he use as motivation to overcome the drugs? A strong surge of emotion … anger. It had to be. Sidious wanted him to use his anger at Grievous to power his escape.

It sounded so easy, but it was dangerous. Even now, on some subconscious level, his anger was being kept in check. If he were to falter now and lose himself, he might never be able to pull himself back.

But he could not see Sabé. He could not see Anakin. All he could see was Grievous. The hateful droid stood just beyond his reach, silently mocking him with taunts that he had been forsaken. By the Jedi Council, by his friends, and by the Republic itself.

_Choose._

Obi-Wan chose.

He allowed all his anger, all the hatred of Grievous he had accumulated over his time in captivity to rise to the surface. The ferociousness of it shocked him for a moment, but he held on. His face contorted into an expression of open rage. Strength poured into his limbs. His blood started to pulse with power.

Too much power. His body, in its weakened state, could not endure it. He was unprepared for such a swelling of rage. Stronger than the vessel that contained it, the boiling wave of power was trying to burn its way out.

Obi-Wan fell to his knees, trying to hold on, but the trial was too much. His blood started to sear his veins, and he heard himself scream.

Then it was over. He lay on the floor of his cell, lingering agony still buzzing throughout his body. He lay there, pulling breath after ragged breath of air into his lungs until finally, he found the strength to pull himself up.

He had made progress. For an instant, he had touched the Force. He had overcome his limitations.

But his body was not ready for this. Grievous had made sure of that. The power had slipped away, and now he was as alone as ever. He didn't know if he should try again. It could kill him.

_The right motivation …_

So that was what Sidious had meant. Pure anger would not be enough to free him. It had to have reason, a cause. He had to have something that he was determined enough to accomplish that he was willing to endure the agony it would take to overcome this trial.

Obi-Wan rubbed his face with his hands. He was shaking. Somehow, he knew that it did not stem from his attempt to escape. His Jedi morals had taken a serious blow. He had completely cast them aside for a moment. It had shocked him, as though they were a physical part of him that had been suddenly ripped from his body. Dare he try again? Did he even want to?

The door to his cell slid open. In strode General Grievous, flanked by a pair of MagnaGuards.

"Enjoying yourself, Kenobi?" The General laughed. "I could hear you screaming from down the hall."

Obi-Wan did not answer. He watched Grievous with a strange expression of anger, disgust, and pity.

"No witty responses today, eh?" Grievous laughed again. "Maybe you're finally starting to learn to respect your master. Or maybe it's just fatalistic gloom over the inevitable death of everything you've ever worked or cared for. It doesn't really matter to me."

A sneer flitted over Obi-Wan's lips and then disappeared.

Grievous noticed. "Maybe you're not as broken as I thought," he mused. "That can be remedied."

Reaching into his cloak, he withdrew the holoprojector.

Obi-Wan spoke for the first time.

"You are a fool."

Grievous stopped. "A fool?" he asked menacingly. "How so?"

"Your overconfidence is your weakness," Obi-Wan told him. "You think that just because I am your prisoner that I am defeated. You are wrong. These … things you show me may damage my resolve, but they do not destroy it. I have found a way to fight you, Grievous. Your time is short."

Grievous set the projector down and moved his face to within inches of Obi-Wan's. "Really?" He hissed. "Then why don't you do it now? Go on. Use your precious Force. Rip my heart from this metal shell."

Obi-Wan glared directly into Grievous's hate-filled eyes. For a moment, he was tempted. Then he looked away.

"I thought not," Grievous turned and picked up the projector again. "Talk is cheap, Kenobi, unless it is back by a threat or a pledge. Actions speak far more than words."

He faced Obi-Wan again. "That is why you are here, in this situation. That is why you have been abandoned. Your friends, even Skywalker, knew they could not trust you."

Obi-Wan's hands curled into fists. "That's a lie, Grievous."

"Is it?" Grievous's yellow eyes glowed with malice. "Did he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Of course he didn't," Grievous laughed. "He's far too smart to risk his marriage by talking to a member of the Jedi Council."

"His … What!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. How could Anakin have … Padmé.

"Yes, Kenobi," Grievous said menacingly. "Skywalker and the lovely Senator Amidala. For three years they have been keeping it from you. You were so blind you couldn't see it."

Obi-Wan took an involuntary step back. Three years … that put it right after the Battle of Geonosis. He had known that Anakin and Padmé cared for each other deeply, that they were in love, but _marriage_? Never had he dreamed that they would go so far. Anakin would have been expelled from the order. But he hadn't cared. And he hadn't trusted Obi-Wan enough to tell him.

"Of course he didn't, Kenobi," Grievous said, seeming to have read his mind. "They knew they couldn't trust you. If they had told you, you would have sold them to the Council. Their best friend putting duty before love, and in doing so tearing them apart. Tragic."

Obi-Wan was stunned. How could this have happened? Surely Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would never, ever, sell him out in such a manner. He would die first.

Yet Anakin hadn't told him …

"He believed you to be a pawn of the Jedi Council," Grievous continued. "You certainly gave him cause to think so. Perhaps if you hadn't, he wouldn't have gone so astray. Through your negligence, Kenobi, Skywalker has been slipping farther and farther away from the Jedi."

"No," Obi-Wan said forcefully. "You're wrong!"

"It is you who are mistaken, Kenobi. About a great many things. Tell me, did Skywalker ever tell you exactly what happened on Tatooine three years ago?"

"His mother was taken," Obi-Wan said slowly. "By a tribe of Tusken Raiders. He tried, but he couldn't get there in time to save her. She died in his arms."

"Oh, there's more, Kenobi," Grievous said, his eyes sparkling malevolently. "Do you know what he did when he found her broken body?"

"No."

"He killed them, Kenobi," Grievous hissed. "He killed them all."

Obi-Wan felt ice surge through his veins and the bottom drop out of his stomach. "No!" he exclaimed. "Anakin would never do anything like that!"

"He did," Grievous sneered. "In his mad despair, he cut them all down. And not just the warriors, Kenobi. Not just the men. The old. The sick. The wounded. _The women. The children_."

Obi-Wan was stunned to silence. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't believe that Anakin would ever do such a thing, no matter what the Raiders had done to him. But at the same time, he remembered Anakin being withdrawn shortly after they had returned from Geonosis. He remembered the pained, guilty look that had flashed across Anakin's face when Obi-Wan had questioned him about his return to Tatooine. He had taken it to be lingering doubt and guilt over his mother's death, but now …

How could he not have known? How could he have let this happen? Ha he really been that blind concerning Anakin? He had always known, of course, that Anakin struggled with his emotions and that his anger sometimes burst out of him in violent surges. But this … this was too much. Not only had Anakin violated the code by taking a wife, he was a murderer.

Even both of those things paled in significance to one painful fact: Anakin hadn't trusted him enough to tell him about either of those things. Despite their being close, closer than brothers, Anakin had suspected that if Obi-Wan knew, he would betray him. So he bottled up his anger, hid his emotions, until they burst out in sudden explosions of passion. No wonder Anakin had been distant. He was already pulling away from the Jedi Order.

And the worst part was it was Obi-Wan's own fault.

If he hadn't been so blind, so focused on rigidly adhering to the Jedi Code and the Council, he would have noticed that in doing so, he had lost his best friend to the very forces he had been fighting against. It was his fault that instead of restoring peace and order to the galaxy, the galaxy was sliding towards darkness.

"How does it feel, Kenobi?" Grievous asked. "How does it feel to know that because of _you_, everything that you have ever loved and cared for is headed for death and destruction?"

Obi-Wan looked at Grievous, directly into those sickly yellow eyes that had tormented him for so long, that had torn down his beliefs and morals one by one, that had laughed as Obi-Wan Kenobi had contorted and writhed under the agony, and finally slid into oblivion.

And something inside him snapped.

Ignoring his reservations, his hesitations, and any shattered remnants of moral objection that he still retained, he let his anger at the demon in front of him flow into his body. Heat rushed to every corner of his being, building itself up towards a raging inferno that he would not be able to contain.

"You know, I don't even think I need this anymore," Grievous said, storing the holoprojector back inside his cloak. "What I have said is enough. The Republic crumbles. Your dear Sabé, who under a misguided delusion of compassion, betrayed the Republic and you in the process. She sits now in her bedroom, torn apart by guilt, and contemplating suicide. Your friends in the Senate are about to be branded as traitors and cast out of the weak Republic they love. Your friends in the Jedi Order have accepted your death and forgotten you. The Jedi Council has betrayed you into my hands, and then left you here to die. And Anakin Skywalker, the Hero Without Fear, is about to learn its true meaning as he descends into the fiery embrace of the Darkside!"

Obi-Wan's rage surged in tidal wave of heat. Pain began to tear at his chest and limbs as the heat grew to be almost unbearable. His nerves shrieked. His blood burned. He ignored it.

"And it is all your fault, Kenobi" Grievous said with finality. His eyes burned with a savage madness. "You have brought this on yourself. Where are your precious Jedi morals now? Look what they have done for you? Is this the great hero the people of this galaxy look to in their time of need? You cannot save them! You are powerless!"

Obi-Wan's face contorted with hatred. His hands clenched, his body twisted, his eyes turned yellow …

"As you stand there in despair, know this," Grievous spread his arms in triumph. "You have failed. In our final contest, I have brought you to your knees. You await the final stroke."

He let his arms fall and looked Obi-Wan right in the eye. "I have killed you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My work is done."

Nodding to his guards, he turned his back on the Jedi and headed for the door.

Obi-Wan watched as Grievous got ready to leave. No! He wouldn't leave! He would not escape!

The heat of his rage became a blistering inferno. His entire body was on fire. No one could endure this and live. Yet he held on.

And then, some hidden wall in his mind broke. A wave of life-giving power surged into his body. It was a feeling he had forgotten, yet one which was as familiar to him as his own life. The Force …

Grievous was almost at the door. He was about to escape unscathed.

_I have killed you, Obi-Wan Kenobi …_

Obi-Wan threw himself forward against his restraints with all the strength in his body.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

His chains shattered.

In an instant, Obi-Wan lunged across the room and grabbed his enemy, just before the General stepped through the door to freedom.

Obi-Wan grabbed Grievous by the throat and slammed him with crushing force in the ground. Pinning the stunned General to the floor, he tightened his fingers around the support column of Grievous's neck. He slammed Grievous's head against the floor again and again, all rational thought gone from his mind. He did not care that the open door to freedom lay less than two meters away. All he was focused on was the destruction of his enemy. The support structure of the General's neck began to buckle …

A charged force pike hit Obi-Wan full in the chest. He ignored the surge of electricity and the cracking sound of one of his ribs, keeping the struggling Grievous pinned. Another staff came down on the back of his head.

Obi-Wan felt his grip loosen as darkness crept into the corners of his vision. Another strike knocked him off of Grievous completely, breaking his strangle hold. The blows continued to rain down as Grievous's guards pounded him unmercifully.

"Enough!"

The blows ceased, and Obi-Wan was left lying on the ground, pain buzzing throughout his body and his consciousness slipping away.

Grievous slowly got to his feet, tenderly massaging his damaged neck. He took a step backward, looking in shock at the shattered remnants of Obi-Wan's chains and the Jedi Master himself, lying on the floor.

Obi-Wan's eyes slid open, staring right at Grievous, yellow hatred glaring from them.

Grievous quickly turned around and fled, his guards behind him. The door slid shut.

The yellow faded from Obi-Wan's eyes, giving way to the natural blue. But only for a second. Blackness obscured his vision, then Obi-Wan's eyes closed and he slipped from consciousness.

* * *

Grievous moved quickly through the corridors at an undignified pace. Leaving his guards far behind, he was focused on only one thing: getting as far away from the mad Jedi as possible. He had to fight the urge to break into a run.

The attack had been so sudden and so unexpected that Grievous had been caught completely off guard. One minute, Kenobi had been hanging in his chains limp and broken, and the next, he was free, with his hands on Grievous's throat. For the first time in his life, Grievous had been shocked into helplessness, unable to lift a claw to defend himself. If it hadn't been for his guards, he would have been nothing more than scrap.

The ghosts of Kenobi's fingers brushed across his neck. Grievous shuddered and doubled his pace.

How in the galaxy had he done it? Every day since Kenobi had been here he had been injected with drugs to block him from the Force. Lord Sidious had assured him that it was impossible to overcome them. Obviously, the Dark Lord of the Sith had been mistaken.

One thing was certain; Kenobi was no longer helpless. He was an active threat to Grievous's life. He needed to be eliminated, and as quickly as possible.

But Lord Sidious wanted Kenobi as one of his two apprentices. He would not be pleased if he was informed that Grievous had taken the liberty of destroying his prize pupil to be. It might cost Grievous more than a demotion.

At this point, however, he would rather face Sidious's wrath than Kenobi's.

Grievous stopped suddenly and looked around. He had no idea where he was. He had taken so many twists and turns that he had gotten himself lost in the maze of the old, dilapidated building. Now he was going to have to find his way back.

Consulting his locater, he found that he actually was only a few floors above the Communications Center. From there it was only a short elevator ride to the dungeons. If he was going to get rid of Kenobi, it would be best to do it now, before the Jedi woke up. It was not an honorable thing to do, but Grievous wouldn't let that bother him. It wasn't a battle; it was a necessity.

He started back down. As he descended the stairs, he felt his legs tremble. He was shaking. Grievous was instantly appalled with himself. Trembling, like some common organic filth? What had he come to? Kenobi was only human. Humans died.

The Jedi's hate-filled face and burning yellow eyes flashed before his mind. _He's only human …_

"My Lord General?"

Grievous whirled around, lightsaber in hand and ignited, read to spear whoever it was that had snuck up on him. But it was only one of his guards, who nevertheless took an involuntary step back.

Grievous deactivated his weapon. "What is it?"

"I have been sent for you, My Lord," the bodyguard responded. "But I had been unable to find you until now."

"I was with Kenobi," Grievous said flatly. Thankfully, the droid wasn't programmed with enough intelligence to ask why he was currently ten floors above Kenobi's location. "You were sent for me?"

"Yes, My Lord. By Lord Sidious. He wishes to speak with you."

Grievous immediately stopped cold. Sidious, here? _Now?_

"When did he arrive?" he asked.

"About fifteen minutes ago, My Lord." The droid replied.

"Where is he?"

"The throne room. I can escort you there."

"That won't be necessary," Grievous said distractedly. "I can find my own way."

He had some things he wanted to say to his master. It was time he got some answers.

* * *

The massive stone doors swung slowly inward as he approached. He was expected.

Grievous slowly entered the massive, dimly lit room. Many years ago, this room had been an enormous amphitheater, ten stories tall, capable of seating thousands. Now there was only a single chair, sitting on an elevated dais on the far side of the room. In the chair sat a malevolent, imposing figure in a dark robe.

Grievous crossed the room to the foot of the dais and dropped to one knee. "My Lord Sidious."

"Rise, my friend," Sidious said slowly. "It has been too long, General."

Grievous nodded. "Indeed, My Lord."

"I sent for you the moment I arrived," Sidious's voice was calm, but it carried a dangerous edge. "Why did you not come at once? I do not appreciate being kept waiting."

Grievous looked down. "My Lord, I was with Kenobi."

"Ah." A faint smile appeared on Sidious's face. "You are forgiven then. How goes our project?"

Grievous braced himself. "My Lord, it has failed."

Sidious leaned forward slightly on his throne, the dangerous edge in his voice becoming deadly. "What do you mean?"

"The Jedi is insane!" Grievous exploded. "We have pushed him too far. The treatments have succeeded in destroying his Jedi morals, but they have also wiped out his rationality and self-control! During the last session, he was exactly as you had predicted he would be: outwardly defiant, but inwardly broken and full of potential anger. Suddenly, he came alive, and _broke the chains holding him_! Somehow, he overcame the drugs and regained the Force!"

A strange expression passed over Sidious's face. "Did he now?"

"Yes!" Grievous exclaimed vehemently. Lord Sidious did not seem to be nearly disturbed enough by this news. "My Lord, don't you understand what this means? He cannot be controlled! If he can break these restraints you have placed on him, what is to stop him from disregarding other bonds you try to place on him? Such a man cannot be your apprentice!"

Sidious did not speak. Grievous pressed on.

"My Lord, I understand that you wanted Kenobi to serve you. But he is not fit to do so. He would betray us, and destroy all that you have worked for. And there is still Anakin Skywalker! He is far stronger than Kenobi will ever be. When you turn him, you will not need Kenobi. It was an admirable attempt, My Lord, but I feel that at this time it would be better to cut our losses."

He dropped to one knee. "With your permission, Lord Sidious, I request that you allow me to destroy him."

There was a silence, and Grievous kept his gaze, fixed on the floor. Maybe his master would see reason …

And then Sidious began to laugh.

"You make a good case, General," the Sith Lord chuckled. "No doubt you have thought it through a great deal and decided that this course of action would truly be in our best interest. However, I must remind you that you are a military leader. You think in terms of threats and definitive action. If a threat exists, you eliminate it. But such a mindset has blinded you to the true nature of what I was trying to accomplish. Your report on Kenobi's state is excellent news. It means that everything is going as planned."

Grievous looked up, stunned. "_As planned_, My Lord?"

"Yes," Sidious stood up and began to descend the steps of the dais. "Rise, General. If Kenobi was to truly be persuaded to see the Darkside, he needed to overcome his misguided notions about it. In this case, necessity is a powerful tool. As his options for escape dwindled, he began to see on some subconscious level that only by accepting what he once feared could he free himself. He has done so now. Granted, having my worthy General mauled was not part of my plan, but I am sure that once you have recovered from your initial shock at the extent of Kenobi's new power, you will forgive us."

Grievous stood up, but kept his gaze down. He was angry at Sidious's admission and his decision regarding Kenobi, but he certainly wasn't going to let the Sith Lord see it.

"Now," Sidious said almost pleasantly. "I think it's time that I got to meet our new ally. Lead me to him."

Grievous hesitated almost imperceptibly, but Lord Sidious noticed.

"Don't worry, General. You needn't confront him again now. There will be time for that very soon."

Grievous lead the way out of the amphitheater, glad that Sidious could not see the ghost of fear that had flashed into his eyes.

* * *

Pain. Anger. Darkness. Death.

All of these swirled around Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind as he once again awoke to find himself lying on the cold duracrete floor of his cell. Once again, he pushed himself to his feet. The door was shut. The light had been extinguished. Grievous was gone.

Blood trickled down Obi-Wan's face from a long cut on his forehead. It ran into his beard, probably staining it red, though he couldn't see it. His chest contracted painfully with each breath. At least one rib broken, probably more. He briefly considered healing himself with the Force, now that he had regained it, but he decided against it. He shouldn't exhaust himself, he was going to need his strength for when Grievous came back. Besides, he didn't mind the pain. It kept him focused.

He began to pace back and forth, savoring the feeling of just being able to move freely once again. His boot brushed against one of his broken chains, now no more than a twisted string of metal. Of course, he was still a prisoner, but he didn't feel like one anymore.

How long was he going to have to wait? Probably awhile. Obi-Wan's lip curled into a sneer as he thought of that loathsome sack of bolts quavering in the corner of some room ten stories above. He had hoped that Grievous would have found enough courage by now to come back down and face him, but obviously he had overestimated the scum's resolve.

He should be ashamed of what he had done. Now that he had the Force again he should be using it to purge his mind and soul of all the hateful emotions that had accumulated like dirt in an unused cargo hold. But he didn't want to. Not yet. He would purify himself later. The last thing he wanted was for some lingering scrap of pity to stay his hand when the time came to rip the life out of that abominable metal shell that Grievous called a body.

The General had taken everything from him. He had taken Obi-Wan away from his friends, his love, his comrades, and his Republic. Then he had thrown him into this festering pit and mocked him until he had taken away even his cherished memories of all that he had cared for. He had shown Obi-Wan no mercy, so Obi-Wan would show him none. Grievous needed to die.

_I have killed you, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

"Not yet, Grievous" Obi-Wan snarled. "Not yet."

He would have to be quick. No doubt Grievous would bring a legion of guards with him the next time he came down. Even if he could snatch one of Grievous's lightsabers, in his current position they would force him back and cut him down in seconds. His death was inevitable. But if he could take Grievous with him, then death did not frighten him. What was it, after all, but the next step? As a child, Yoda had told him many about great heroes who fell defending what they loved. He had always felt sad that the great hero had to die, but Yoda had always consoled him. _The next great adventure, Death is._

A bitter smile crept onto Obi-Wan's lips. Here he was, quoting Master Yoda while waiting to commit a murder. The great Jedi Master would be horrified. If he was even still alive. Maybe Grievous had taken care of him and the rest of the Jedi Council by now. While he felt a faint twinge of sorrow that maybe Master Yoda was no more, it certainly didn't extend to the rest of the Council.

Except Anakin.

Obi-Wan sighed. His best friend would never know what had become of his old master. No doubt he would search tirelessly for any trace, and maybe his search would lead him here, to his body in this black cell on whatever planet he was on. He wished he could say goodbye. Even if Anakin didn't trust him, even if he knew that Obi-Wan had failed him. If only he could pull Anakin back to the Light before he himself descended into darkness.

Maybe it was better this way. He wouldn't want Anakin to see him like this.

Or Sabé.

Sabé … the love that they had grown to share would wither and die. Who knew what may have come of it? Probably nothing. They were worlds apart, even when they had been together. Still …

With the Force, he stretched out to Sabé, Padmé, and Anakin one last time. Maybe, just maybe, they would feel him. Maybe they would forgive him.

Then he heard a noise.

There were voices, coming from the other side of the door. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and he couldn't tell who was talking. But he knew. Grievous.

Obi-Wan grabbed a long length of broken chain from the floor, then positioned himself next to the door. His heart pounded in his chest. He did not fear death. He only feared failure.

He closed his eyes. He would place his trust in the Force. Let it guide him, one last time.

The door slid open. _Wait …_

He sensed a lone figure step inside. Powerful. It had to be Grievous. Normal droids didn't give off that kind of energy. _Wait …_

The figure took another step, then another, peering inside the room, looking for its occupant. He was cut off now. He couldn't escape.

_NOW!_

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. In an instant, he swung his chain toward the figure's head with enough force to shatter the skull of a Krayt Dragon. The figure turned around, but it was too late. His aim was true; the Force had not failed him …

The chain stopped dead in mid-air.

Obi-Wan blinked it surprise. It couldn't be!

With a yell of rage, he sprung forward with hands outstretched, ready to tear his enemy apart.

The figure raised a hand, and a wave of energy rose to meet him.

Obi-Wan was flung backwards and slammed into the wall. He slid down, head ringing.

A cold voice addressed him. "Now, now, Master Kenobi, what kind of greeting is that?"

Through his daze, Obi-Wan registered the voice and frowned. This wasn't Grievous. The voice was too cold, too high, and too … human.

"Who are … you?" he gasped.

"We have spoken before, Obi-Wan. Very recently. Don't you remember?"

Recently? Who had he spoken to recently that was human? The presence felt familiar. Qui-Gon? No. Cold, powerful …

"Sidious?"

The Dark Lord laughed. "Very good. Only this time, we can communicate through more civilized means, rather than through our subconscious. An improvement, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan said warily.

"I can't blame you. What you've endured these past few weeks would be enough to make anyone withdrawn. But that time is at an end."

Obi-Wan wanted to stand up, but he remained on the ground, his back pressed to the wall. "Why are you here?"

Sidious stepped forward. "I have come to free you, Obi-Wan."

"Have you?" Obi-Wan said coldly. "Wonderful timing. As you can see, I've just managed to break my chains."

"Yes," Sidious smiled. "I am very impressed. Few could have done it. _Finding the right motivation_ is not easy."

Obi-Wan balked. The right motivation … without even thinking, he had done what Sidious had told him.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I found the right motivation. So now what's to stop me from walking out that door?"

"You know only too well, Obi-Wan," Sidious said. "I know who you thought I was. You thought you were going to kill Grievous. Unfortunately, you gave him such a scare that he decided not to show up."

Obi-Wan's eyes blazed. "Filthy coward!"

"Yes," Sidious hissed. "He fears you. He fears how powerful you have become."

Obi-Wan's fists tightened. "Where is he?"

"Close by."

Obi-Wan tried to stand up, but an invisible force pushed him back down. "No. Killing him now would not be prudent. Remember what I told you about his weapon."

"The Death Star," Obi-Wan said. "A space station with enough firepower to destroy a planet. What about it?"

"It is nearing completion," Sidious said ominously. "He will mobilize it soon. The Republic does not have much time."

Obi-Wan bared his teeth. "He can't mobilize it if he's dead."

"True," Sidious said. "But his loyal subordinates can. To defeat the threat, we must discover the weapon's location, then kill him."

"We?" Obi-Wan echoed.

Sidious leaned forward. "I am offering you a chance, Obi-Wan. A chance avenge yourself and in doing so, preserving all that you love. You are already strong. I can make you stronger, show you how to gain even more power so that soon, you will be unstoppable. Only through me can you gain enough power to destroy your enemy."

He extended a hand. "Join me, Obi-Wan. Let us come together to form an unstoppable force strong enough to wipe out this scourge of justice, and return peace and order to the galaxy! And when we have accomplished our goal, you will have your freedom."

Obi-Wan stared at the proffered hand. Conflict tore at him. The Jedi Code repeated itself over and over in the back of his mind, old masters, Qui-Gon among them, warning him to beware the Darkside. But other images began to drown it out. Faces of friends he had known: Anakin, Padmé, Bail, Siri, Sabé, Mace … all smiling and beckoning him. He could see them again … freedom was within his grasp...

And the hateful, metal face of General Grievous, waiting to swallow them all.

The voices of the old masters began to fade, drawing deeper and deeper into the blackness of mind. Qui-Gon's voive rang out one last time …

Then they were gone.

Obi-Wan reached up and grabbed Sidious's hand. The Dark Lord pulled him to his feet.

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "I am ready to learn, Lord Sidious. Teach me how to use this new power. Teach me how to defeat General Grievous."

Darth Sidious threw back his head and laughed.

"My friend," he proclaimed. "Your training has already begun."


	20. The Trials of Darkness

Hey everyone! Here are the replies I promised. The next post, which is closely tied to this one, will be up soon.

**imaprincess1:** I suppose you couldclassify Obi-Wan as mental;y ill at the moment, seeing how twisted his perceptions of right an wrong have become. Believe me, it's going to get worse.

**JediDaughter1:** Well, now you know! I hope you will find hiscontinued descentas interestingas his fall.

**Swordsman of Shadow:** I am totally blown away by your praise for this story! In answer to your questions, you will see some very big changes in Obi-Wan's fighting style. He will use the more aggressive Ataru, although he will not abdandon Soresu entirely. He will use dark side powers such as choke and lightning. And his power will dramatically increase once he gives himself fully to the dark side.

**Darth Taegous:** Thank you!

**Ryuuko1:** Your compliments continue to humble me. Thank you very much, and I hope you contiue to enjoy this story.

**i luv ewansmile:** Itwas foretold that Obi-Wan would fall, though I can understand your surprise. But you're right in that there is always hope. Obi-Wan might still come back ...eventually.

**Ayako Kadori:** Anakin and Obi-Wan will end up on the same side again before this story is over (which won't be for a while). Which side, though, shall remain a question unanswered.

**Dark Austral:** The intensity is going to continue to go up, and you will see Obi-Wan train in this chapter.

**Jedi Master Arie Skywalker:** We'll get back to Anakin and the others soon.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Anakin Skywalker shot straight up in his bed, breathing hard. Beside him, Padmé stirred gently, then rolled over and continued to sleep. Anakin remained in his upright position, eyes searching the room for anything threatening. He found nothing. Of course he hadn't. The signal had not come from his room.

His mind had been plagued once again by the visions his beautiful wife's broken body. But they had been interrupted by a surge of external emotion and power, so strong it had wiped out everything else. Even more surprisingly it had been directed at him. He had caught traces of pain, sorrow, regret, pride, and a plea for forgiveness.

Then the warmth had been extinguished ruthlessly, like a burning torch suddenly plunged into a pool of ice cold water. There had been a brief image of a shadowy man huddled in a corner reaching up to clasp another man's hand. The resulting surge of power had been so great that it had jarred him from his sleep.

Anakin laid back down and stared at the ceiling, wondering what could have caused such a powerful disturbance.

* * *

For a moment, he was still.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of the circular room, perfectly immobile. His arms, so tense the moment before, hung loosely at his sides. His back was straight, but not stiff. His chest expanded slowly as he sucked in a mouthful of air, then breathed it out. His eyes, burning with fierce determination just a short time ago, were closed. He waited.

At evenly spaced points around the room there stood eight droids. From a distance, they merely appeared to be slightly modified versions of Grievous's MagnaGuards. But close up one could see that their armor had been reinforced. Their sinister red eyes were set further back in the head, and they glittered with enhanced intelligence. Metal arms and legs were sturdy, ending in clawed hands and feet. The hands gripped a long metal pole, double ended with razor-sharp spikes. The spikes pulsed with a glowing yellow energy.

Ten meters above the ground, a high ledge ran all around the room. Spaced evenly between their counterparts on the ground knelt slightly smaller droids. They appeared to be no more than battle droid snipers, except that the rifle that they carried was far sturdier and more deadly.

Scars were still visible on Obi-Wan's back and face. The pain of old wounds and new ones jabbed at him infrequently. It had been less than three days since he had been released from his cell, prior to which he had been starved and tortured for weeks. Despite the medical treatment he had received, he was still nowhere near his previous physical condition.

None of that mattered.

During the three days he had been released, Lord Sidious had pushed his new Jedi ally to his limit. Constant training. Almost no rest. The tests, both mental and physical, had been demanding, enough to break another Jedi. Of course, that was the point. Obi-Wan could fight. He was agile. He was a master of the Force. But that wasn't enough. To succeed, he needed to overcome his Jedi limitations. He needed to take that which he had discovered and use it to find new ways of fighting, of thinking, and of overcoming. Dark new paths that had previously been closed to him offered him vast, unlimited potential. They beckoned him, and he eagerly plunged down them. As he drew away from the light that had guided him all his life, he found that he could still see. The light now shone from within. Abandoning that which he had believed to be his greatest strength had not been easy. But he had done it. And in doing so, he had succeeded.

This was the final test.

_"Concentrate, Kenobi." _

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan picked himself up from the floor for the uncounted time. Residual charge sparked through his veins, causing him to wince. His legs shook badly.

Darth Sidious lowered his hands. "You are not doing what I told you. You have all the necessary skill, but you are unwilling to use it. You are still afraid."

Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger. He knew what to do. This test had seemed easy, but it was becoming harder and harder with each failure. His focus kept slipping, and his frustration was growing.

"You are holding back, Obi-Wan," Sidious told him. "Despite everything that you have been through, you are unwilling to use your power. The Jedi mantras that have been etched into your brain have been broken, but the fragments still haunt you. You are reluctant about what you are doing, and guilty. You still believe that it is better to passively defend than to aggressively attack. It is hindering your progress."

An image of Lord Sidious with his throat slashed appeared in Obi-Wan's mind. If the dark lord kept doing this, he was going to learn all about aggressive attacks.

"Good," Sidious hissed. "That is the mindset you need. Your enemy cannot harm you if he is dead. Stop trying to deflect the attacks. Throw them back at your enemy. Use his own attack against him."

Obi-Wan bent his knees and extended his hands. "I'm ready."

Sidious raised his hands again. "Prove it."

A searing wave of lightning shot toward Obi-Wan. He reached out with the Force and caught it. The impact jarred his entire body painfully. Gritting his teeth he stared straight at Sidious and tried to force the lightning back.

Sidious doubled his assault. Obi-Wan pushed harder, determined not to fail. The lightning began to bend back toward the dark lord. He felt a surge of exhilaration.

Suddenly, the Jedi Code began to recite itself in his mind. There is no emotion, there is peace …

This was wrong …

Obi-Wan's concentration slipped. Before he could recover, the lightning slammed into him. Agony erupted throughout his entire body, and he was thrown mercilessly backward. He screamed as waves of power tore at him.

"Again!"

The lightning ceased. Obi-Wan lay panting on the floor.

Sidious lowered his hands. "Close, Kenobi! You were close! But yet again, you failed. I am not even unleashing a fraction of my true power! If I really wanted to destroy you, it would be all too easy."

Obi-Wan pulled himself slowly to his feet. "Then what's stopping you? I have no weapon."

"You can do it, Obi-Wan," Sidious said. "You are strong enough. You don't need a weapon; you already posses one. All you need is to let go of your limitations. Embrace your power."

He raised his hands again. Obi-Wan positioned himself, ignoring protesting cries of his muscles.

Blue-white lightning flew towards him once again. This time, Obi-Wan did not try to catch it and hold it. Instead, he seized it and with all his built-up rage and frustration, shoved it back.

The lightning started to rebound. Sidious increased his attack, shoving it back ruthlessly. Obi-Wan held firm.

Embrace your power …

Obi-Wan yelled and pushed with everything he had. For a moment, the lightning stopped in mid air. Then it shot back toward the Dark Lord at an impossibly fast velocity. Sidious caught the lightning on his hands, gritting his teeth from the effort of holding back the onslaught of his own considerable power, plus Kenobi's. The two of them stood there like pillars, joined by a bridge of crackling power.

The lightning disappeared. Obi-Wan and Sidious lowered their hands. Obi-Wan breathed in heavily, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

Sidious smiled. "Perfect."

He had found a way. Despite his initial reluctance, Obi-Wan had been able to endure. Now, though he stood here unarmed, he was not defenseless. He had found a way to take control, and to turn his anger into a weapon. All he had to do was realize this. All he had to do was put it into action.

This was the final test. And he had succeeded. These droids were only seconds away from discovering this.

The eight droids charged, whirling their staffs faster than the human eye could follow. The snipers primed their rifles, then fixed their sights on the Jedi's chest.

For a moment, Obi-Wan was still.

Then he acted.

The first droid reached him, poised to drive his charged staff into his back. Obi-Wan leapt into the air, seeming to take forever, but in reality only acting for an instant. Almost lazily, he swung his foot around. His bare foot smashed into the droid's neck. The column shattered, and the droid's head flew free of the body.

Obi-Wan landed in time to meet four charged staffs ready to impale him in the chest. Though they were moving ridiculously fast, he knew instinctively where all of the ends were pointed. The attacks never landed.

Obi-Wan's forearms intercepted two of the staffs, batting the points away effortlessly. Dropping to the floor, he swept the legs out from underneath one of his opponents while the points of the other two staffs passed harmlessly overhead. He rolled through the gap in the line, over the downed droid. As soon as he was through, he whirled around and drove his fist down, backing it with a force born of the rage of battle. His fist drove through the droid's reinforced head armor, smashing the robotic brain and leaving it a twitching pile of circuits on the floor.

A hail of supercharged lasers erupted around him as the sniper droids opened fire. None of them hit him. Obi-Wan barely moved, twisting his body only slightly to allow each of the bolts by. One of the missed shots took a pursuing droid through the leg.

Two of the droids that had boxed him in closed with frightening speed. Two more came from his left and his right, intending to trap him and cut him apart. Obi-Wan did not panic. He did not try to escape or prepare for a furious defensive counter. He merely raised a hand.

Then he clenched it into a fist.

The two droids in front of him were lifted into the air, then ruthlessly crushed into balls of scrap metal. Obi-Wan moved quickly through the opened gap in the formation, letting the twisted remains of his opponents fall to the floor behind him.

The droid who had taken a shot through the leg struggled into a defensive position as Obi-Wan approached. The Jedi leapt four meters into the air. Anticipating his angle, the droid positioned itself directly underneath Obi-Wan's projected landing spot. Extending his spear, he thrust it upward to skewer him.

Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed the charged end of the spear. Ignoring the ferocious shock that passed through his entire body, he used his own momentum to drive the other end of the pole into the droid's chest plate. The droid fell to the ground, momentarily paralyzed from the force of the blow. Obi-Wan landed smoothly, then rolled head over heels, pulling the spear free. The struggling, weaponless droid pulled itself to its feet. Obi-Wan reversed his grip and hurled the spear back into the hole he had torn in the casing. The droid's central power source ruptured, and it disappeared in a fireball.

The snipers had gotten a bearing on him again. In eerie tandem they cocked their weapons and fired at the Jedi. Eight bolts of energy streaked toward his chest. Obi-Wan took a step back and positioned his hands in front of his chest. He caught the deadly energy one bolt after another. A glowing sphere of reddish light hung millimeters from his outstretched palms.

The sniper droids seemed stunned by this unexpected turn of events, but it didn't last long. They raised their rifles again and prepared to fire another round.

Baring his teeth in savage triumph, Obi-Wan hurled the captured energy from him. Eight bolts of killing light soared back toward the droids that had fired them. They took each of the snipers directly through the face. All eight fell instantly.

The three remaining droids circled toward him warily, constantly moving so that their adversary could not fixate on any one of them. Obi-Wan waited for them, making no move. A faint sneer appeared on his face.

The droids, seeming to sense that they were being mocked, came at him suddenly. Their jabs were impossibly fast, their slashes quicker than the eye could follow. Furious attacks came at his head, torso, neck, and legs. Obi-Wan had no lightsaber to defend himself. He didn't need one.

Lightsaber forms were more than weapon styles: they were a state of mind. As a master of Soresu, Obi-Wan knew instinctively how to counter any form of attack while expending almost no effort. He could hold off his attackers as long as he needed. But he didn't want to defend himself: he wanted to destroy his foes. His new aggressive mindset merged seamlessly with his fighting style. He intercepted the blows with his unprotected arms, the Force providing just enough energy to reinforce his already sturdy bone structure. He blocked a sweep aimed at his head, then intercepted a jab aimed at his thigh with his palm. Shoving the spear back, he met another attack, a sweeping cut towards his neck. His defensive parries became attacks. As he protected himself, he forced his opponents back.

The droids suddenly broke formation and reformed, once again leaving Obi-Wan backed up against a wall. He continued to block furiously, occasionally landing blows that would stun his adversaries for a moment or two. But one of the droids always recovered in time to prevent him from finishing another off. The skin of his forearms cracked, and then began to bleed as he used them to fend off blow after blow. Even a defensive master could not keep this up for much longer. Obi-Wan's face twisted into an expression of determined rage.

_Attack._

He seized the ends of two of the poles directed at him, crossed them, and shoved. The droids staggered back. Obi-Wan turned and ran towards the wall. The droids recovered and gave pursuit, determined to trap him against the unyielding stone. Obi-Wan never gave them a chance.

Upon reaching the wall, Obi-Wan did not stop. He leapt and continued to run up the wall. His pursuing droids stopped for a moment, which was all he needed.

Four meters above the ground, he sprung off the wall. Slowly, almost lazily, he did a complete flip in mid-air. Righting himself, he came down fist first on the head of one of his adversaries. A blow that strong was enough to shatter a human hand. Something shattered, but it wasn't Obi-Wan's hand.

Obi-Wan ripped his fist free of the sparking fragments of the droid's skull. He stretched out with the Force, seizing the spear and facing off against his two remaining opponents. Whirling his acquired weapon expertly, he baited them to attack him. They obliged.

He met their whirling pikes with his own, immediately launching into a fury so intense that the droid's hasty charge became a scrambling retreat. A quick strike at the head of one opened up space for a body blow to the torso. The droid fell back, reeling.

The other droid clipped Obi-Wan almost imperceptibly on the shoulder. He rounded on the offender. The droid back up ten paces, then took a step forward and launched itself ten meters into the air, almost to the room ceiling. It somersaulted once, then directed its spear at the Jedi, picking up speed as it descended.

Obi-Wan smiled.

He extended his hand. A burst of blue-green energy erupted from beyond his fingertips. It streaked toward the descending droid and caught it square in the chest. The droid's system's immediately overloaded, and it exploded in a storm of fire.

Obi-Wan caught the droid's falling spear and turned towards his sole remaining opponent. The robotic warrior whipped its spear into position and began whirling it, daring the Jedi to accept a final, one on one contest. Except that it was no contest at all.

Obi-Wan began to twirl both of his spears, faster and faster until they where only blurs propelled by the tornadoes that were his arms. He rushed forward to meet his opponent.

The droid parried first one, then both of the spears, flailing desperately to keep the Jedi from finding an opening. Obi-Wan's eyes roved constantly as the two dueled, the eyes of a hunter searching for a weak spot to kill its prey. There.

A quick misleading draw that drew the droid's weapon out of position, then he stabbed his other spear into his adversary's knee joint. The droid staggered. Obi-Wan delivered a paralyzing blow to the droid's weapon arm, knocking the spear loose. He used the Force to fling it to the far side of the room. Then, one after another, he shoved both his spears into the droid's plated torso.

The droid stood there bewildered as its critical systems began to shut down one by one. Obi-Wan turned and walked a few paces away from his opponent. Then suddenly he whirled around. Ripping his spears from the droid's torso, he crossed his arms, and then swung them through. The droid's severed head flew free of its shoulders and fell to the floor.

Obi-Wan tossed his spears carelessly to the ground and turned his back on his destroyed opponent. For a moment, there was silence, the only sound his slightly labored breathing. Then the clapping began.

"Well done, Master Kenobi," Sidious said, emerging from the shadows. "A truly impressive display. Barely a scratch on you."

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Lord Sidious."

"You made liberal use of the techniques I have been teaching you," Sidious commented. "As well as some of your own innovations. I don't recall teaching you how to channel your power into energy like you did to destroy that unfortunate droid."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Spur of the moment."

"Indeed," Sidious said. "I congratulate you again."

"Have I passed then?"

"With distinction." Sidious smiled. "You are ready. Come with me."

With a wave of his hand, he opened a door in the wall leading to a concealed turbolift. Jedi and Sith Lord entered and rode it up to the throne room.

During the brief ascent, Obi-Wan stole a glance at his new mentor. Despite the relatively good light, Sidious's face was strangely imperceptible. It seemed to be cloaked in shadows. Only the mouth and nose were distinctly visible. These seemed oddly familiar, and Obi-Wan had a nagging feeling that the Dark Lord reminded him of someone he had seen before. For the life of him, however, he could not remember who.

The door slid open, and the two found themselves once again in the throne room. Sidious made his way up the dais towards his chair, Obi-Wan tailing behind.

Sidious reached his throne and sat down. Obi-Wan stood in front of him, a respectful few paces away. He did not bow or kneel, however. Despite the training he was undergoing, he did not consider Sidious to be his master. Sidious, for some reason, did not seem to mind.

"The time of confrontation draws near," Sidious said slowly from the depths of his throne. "The Republic's need is great. He who menaces her needs to be eliminated. First, however, we must disable his greatest weapon. The Death Star must be found."

Obi-Wan spoke. "What must I do?"

"Grievous is too intelligent to be careless with his files. The information and technical readouts of this battle station will be well hidden. He only has enough copies to ensure their survival, and few enough that they will not easily be found. One of these files is here."

Obi-Wan's throat tightened. "Here?"

"In this very building," Sidious nodded. "Three years ago, Count Dooku escaped Geonosis bearing with him a copy of these plans. He came here and hid them. Not even I knew. Before his death at the hands of Anakin Skywalker, he told Grievous where he had stowed them. The file is now accessible only from Grievous's personal terminal."

Obi-Wan frowned. "So all I need to do is hack a computer?"

"Yes and no," Sidious smiled. "The security is tight. The hardest part will not be reaching or attaining the data. It will be escaping with it successfully."

"What's the security like?"

"There are various traps and anti-intruder devices, the most serious of which are noxious gas, laser turrets, and of course, constantly patrolling guards. However, avoiding those should pose little challenge to someone as skilled as you. The greatest obstacle is surveillance. Live hi-resolution cameras cover every angle of approach to and from the General's quarters, as well as inside."

Obi-Wan smirked slightly. "Paranoid son of a spacer."

"Indeed," Sidious agreed. "It is almost impossible for anyone to reach the General's quarters without being seen. But there is a way. I can show you a power that will allow you to distort the light around you. Cloak yourself in shadows."

Obi-Wan was intrigued. "How?"

"Your anger will aid you. Let it fill you. Do not shun it, but pull it to you as though it were tangible. Immerse yourself in it. Become the darkness."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let his anger fill him. What had once been so hard to summon now flowed into him easily, filling an empty void that he hadn't even noticed. It filled his soul with a black fog that hissed with power. Eagerly, he drew it to him.

Faces and voices began to echo all around him. Hated voices. Enemies he had slain. Warlords he had fought. The red and black face of the Sith apprentice from Naboo floated past, eyes burning with perpetual rage. Jango Fett's cold, ruthless mask brushed past him. The hulking Gen'dai, Durge, almost indestructible. They whispered to him. And there were others …

Yoda. Master Windu. Saesee Tiin. Kit Fisto. Pablo-Jill. His fellow masters on the Jedi Council. No, _former_ fellow masters, they reminded him. _You have been cast out. You are no longer one of us._

Obi-Wan lunged deeper into the blackness after them. _Why did you betray me?_ He demanded.

He received no answer.

"Good," Sidious hissed, drawing Obi-Wan back to reality. "Look."

Obi-Wan looked down. His body was gone. Or rather, he couldn't see it. Only a faint, shadowy outline remained. In the dim light, he could not tell himself from the darkness.

"Very impressive," Sidious said, rising from his throne. "Soon you will be able to control it at will. But for now, it is time. Are you ready?"

"Yes, My Lord," Obi-Wan said. His voice sounded different. It was low hiss, and it sounded much more sinister.

"Excellent," Sidious breathed. He handed Obi-Wan a small device about the size of his palm. "A resourceful associate of mine was able to construct this. It will allow you to bypass Grievous's encryptions for the terminal. You can also use it to store the recovered file."

Obi-Wan took the device in his invisible hand. "Thank you, My Lord."

"And I have something else for you," Sidious said, reaching into the folds of his cloak. "You will need it very soon."

He withdrew a cylindrical device from the cloak. It was of sturdy, almost alien construction, and its black handle seemed to glow. Obi-Wan's breathing quickened.

A lightsaber.

Sidious handed it to him. "Grievous has taken your own weapon as a trophy. May this one serve you well."

Obi-Wan eagerly grasped the weapon, running his fingers over the smooth casing. He ignited it, and a glowing red blade pulsed into existence, eerily illuminating his shadowy figure. He swung it once effortlessly. A surge of exhilaration passed through his entire body, together with a sense of undeniable power. He had forgotten.

"We cannot fail, my friend," Sidious said ominously. "There is too much at stake."

Obi-Wan deactivated the lightsaber and clipped it onto his belt. Truer words couldn't be said.


	21. Silent as a Shadow

Here's the next chapter. There is a very good chance that I will be updating again later today, so be on the lookout!

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* * *

Chapter 21**

The MagnaGuard droid paused slightly, sweeping its head back and forth. It's glowing red eyes looked first to the left, then the right, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Seconds before, its sensors had registered what had appeared to be a moving shadow darting across its field of vision. This shouldn't have been a cause for concern, but according to its databanks, shadows were not supposed to move. Therefore, it peered into the darkness carefully, scanning with its light and infrared sensors for something that could have been the source of the disturbance.

Nestled in the shadows of a nearby alcove, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth in disgusted restraint. He was good at many things, but hiding was not one of them. The fact that his enemy was standing less than a meter away was not helping. He could ignite his new lightsaber and behead the droid in a fraction of a second, or reach out with the force and fry its critical systems. But that would ruin the mission. He could not leave any trace.

After a minute, the droid passed on. Obi-Wan emerged from the alcove. A third patrol successfully avoided. Thus far, he had done well, and from the lack of noxious gas flooding the corridors or hidden turrets emerging from the ceiling, he guessed that so far using the Force to cloak himself from the security cameras was working as well.

He still had a ways to go, however. Two more floors to ascend and three halls over. From there he could access the General's quarters and recover the file. Then he would make his way back.

He started off down the hallway, keeping to the shadows despite the fact that he was invisible to all but the keenest eyes. He felt more secure in the darkness, indeed more than he had ever been. Maybe it was his recent experience that had given him this feeling. Spending weeks in solid blackness was enough to make one grow accustomed to it, and stray away from the light.

A warning flared through the Force. The next patrol would round the corner in a few seconds. He should reach the turbolift shaft before then. It was unlikely that the droid would be able to see him even if he stayed where he was, but he shouldn't take chances. He increased his speed.

There were two cameras positioned on either side of the turbolift, covering any possible approach. While they might not be able to pick him up, they would certainly notice the turbolift door opening. He needed to redirect them for a moment.

Reaching out with the Force, he nudged them incrementally upward. If he moved them too much an alarm would sound, but all he needed was to redirect their aim slightly. The turbolift doors descended from the top, so all he needed was to raise the camera's high enough that they wouldn't notice the slight opening he was going to squeeze through.

The cameras were in position. Obi-Wan quickly used the Force to activate the door mechanism, halting it after it had opened a quarter meter. Gritting his teeth, he slid though the gap just as the clanking of the guard droid's feet reached its greatest pitch. Hanging by his fingertips from the edge of the opening, feet dangling loosely over the seemingly bottomless shaft below, he let the door slide shut. Another patrol avoided. He was getting better at this.

The turbolift was nowhere in sight. Of course, it shouldn't be, since he had disabled it beforehand. It would have been a liability, considering that he didn't need it.

Obi-Wan pushed off from the wall, throwing himself up and back. When he reached the opposite side of the shaft, he planted his foot and shoved off again, driving himself even higher. He bounded effortlessly up the shaft, using the Force only slightly to keep himself balanced. He was strong enough that he didn't need it to counteract gravity.

Seconds later, he reached the landing two floors above. He latched onto the wall opposite the door, with one hand, keeping the other hand free. Reaching out with the Force once again, he sought for the pulsing signature of the droid guards. There were more of them on this floor, and they were more active, patrolling in both directions. He would have to be quick.

He adjusted the cameras with a nudge from the Force, then waited. The patrol had rounded the corner. He had seconds. He pulled the door open, slid through, and quickly flattened himself against the wall, letting the door slide shut behind him.

"What was that?"

Obi-Wan leapt immediately to the ceiling, wedging himself in a corner and using the Force to cloak himself even deeper in darkness. His hand strayed automatically to his lightsaber.

Two droids came into view, their electrostaves held in a ready position. They quickly positioned themselves on either side of the turbolift. One of them reached out and tapped the panel.

"It's locked, as it should be. Are you sure you saw it open?"

"Yes," the second droid replied. "Only a crack. But my sensors registered a faint shadow emerging."

"A shadow?" The first droid's voice sounded about as derisive as it was possible for a monotonous droid to sound. "You need to have your processors checked. How could you register a shadow in this light?"

"I do _not_ need my processors checked," the second droid replied touchily. "I picked up slight contextual differences and displacement in air currents that made this shadow register differently than the surrounding medium."

The first droid made an electronic hacking sound. "There are a million holes in this old building. It was probably leakage from the vent system. It's Maintenance's job to fix that, not us."

"We should still check," the second droid replied. "The General wants us to report anything unusual. He'll scrap us if we miss a potential threat."

"So you want us to chase a shadow? Do you recall the time you got a full compliment up here to search for an intruder that turned out to be a shadowmoth? We were nearly scraped _then_. Don't waste your time."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. This was why you didn't give droids enhanced linguistic capabilities if you wanted them to be efficient. These two balls of junk could have run a dozen scans by now. Yet instead, they were babbling, keeping him pinned here, and preventing him from fulfilling his mission. He reached out a hand, preparing to call on the Force to crush them. Just before he tightened his fist, however, and even better idea occurred to him. He redirected his hand and sent a concentrated wave of sound down the opposite corridor.

_Pop._

The two droids' heads swiveled around. "What was that?"

Obi-Wan dropped silently to the floor and slid off in the other direction

The second droid took a few steps toward the sound. "Show yourself!"

Silence greeted his call. The first droid pulled up along side him. "That's nothing. Your audio sensors are shot too. Maybe it's this place. Let's get back on patrol before you lose control of all of your functions."

* * *

Hand over hand, Obi-Wan pulled himself through the ventilation shaft. More than once, he had to stop and shift position to squeeze through a slightly narrower gap. He kept his breathing shallow, conscious of the fact that the vents might flood with toxic gas if he wasn't careful. He had dropped his shadow cloak too; there was no need for it. It would only drain his energy.

After he had ducked away from the droid patrol he had found Grievous's door without further trouble. As he had expected, it was locked. What he hadn't expected was that the door would require Grievous's claw to be inserted into a special groove before the password could be entered. He had a feeling the General might notice a missing finger. He would likewise notice a burning hole in the door if Obi-Wan used his lightsaber to bypass the panel. So instead, Obi-Wan was crawling through the vent.

He made it through another turn, then noticed a grate in the floor of the vent. That should lead right into Grievous's quarters. He reached out and pulled it up, then dropped head first through the hole, flipping in mid-air to land smoothly on his feet. The grate slid back into position overhead. He was in. There was almost no light. Perfect.

No time to celebrate. He had to find the terminal. There it was in the corner, next to a large hypodermic chamber that must serve Grievous as a bed. Obi-Wan re-cloaked himself and quickly walked over to the terminal to activate it.

A log-in box prompted him for the password. Obi-Wan wasn't much of a hacker, but luckily in this case, he didn't need to be. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the device that Sidious had given him, found the appropriate port and plugged it in. The password entered automatically, the machine hummed in acceptance and opened the main interface.

Obi-Wan sat down and began to scroll through the various windows and menus. There were hundreds of files, and the process took several minutes, even with the encryption device bypassing any required security inputs. Finally, he was able to find a folder named 'Weapons and Schematics'. A list of projects appeared on the screen.

Obi-Wan quickly scrolled down the list. It was appalling. Corrosive gas, bio-weapons, assassin droids, large scale bombs designed to wipe out entire cities with a single strike. If half of this was ever deployed, Grievous would be able to wipe out billions of lives with ease. Obi-Wan clenched his teeth. Now he was more resolved than ever to kill the metal monstrosity before he could do the same to others.

Then he saw it. About two-thirds of the way down the list was file named 'Planetary Superweapon'. Eagerly, he opened it.

A holographic projection of the familiar sphere rose from the terminal's projector, revolving slowly. The words 'Finished Product' flashed beneath it. A second later, another almost identical sphere rose up beside it with the words 'Current Status'. A quick scan through the schematics told Obi-Wan that the massive superlaser was not yet operational, but the drive systems were installed and there were only a few areas of deck that were still open to space. A counter flashed up onto the screen: Estimated Time to Deployment – 60 days.

Obi-Wan swallowed. Now he understood why Sidious wanted this weapon found before Grievous was destroyed. There was no way with that timeframe that the Republic would have time to both find the weapon and muster a force large enough to assault it successfully. If Grievous was dead, the weapon would deploy much sooner. The Republic needed as much time as possible.

He directed the terminal to copy the file and save it to the encryption device. A timer appeared onscreen: the download would take 120 seconds.

Obi-Wan looked impatiently around the room. Other than the terminal and the hypodermic tube, there wasn't much else in the room. Only a large desk and a sliding panel built into the wall were visible. Obi-Wan made his way over to the desk, which was clear except for a stack of data pads and a button that was built into the desk. A nudge from the Force told Obi-Wan to press the button. He complied. The panel slid open.

Lightsabers. Dozens of them hung in the hidden alcove. Obi-Wan hastily made his way over to them. Each lightsaber was distinctive, and he recognized many of them. The one hanging nearest to him had belonged to Adi Gallia, a great former Council member, who had been brutally slain by Grievous on Boz Pity. Nearby were them weapons of Roron Corobb and Foul Moudama, who had been killed during Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's capture. Obi-Wan experienced a surge of anger. Each of these weapons had served as a last memento of the great Jedi. Now they were no more than trophies. It was yet another reminder of Grievous's sadistic cruelty.

He cast his eyes over the lightsabers again. Could it be that his old weapon was here as well. He had lost it on Utapau, but no doubt Grievous, beliving himself victorious, had taken it. He searched for a minute, but could not find it.

That meant Grievous probably had it with him. He tended to use his favorite lightsabers in combat, and no doubt he considered the weapon of his archenemy Obi-Wan Kenobi his crowning achievement.

A beeping noise startled him out of him angry musings. The download was complete. Obi-Wan closed the cabinet door, returned to the terminal, and consulted the screen. A single word blinked slowly, followed by a series of coordinates: Despayre.

He had it. The location of the Death Star. Obi-Wan closed the box and got ready to log out. But something caught his eye.

On the main screen there was a folder labeled 'Contacts'. Knowing who Grievous was connected to would be a great asset in disarming the Confederacy after his death. Obi-Wan opened the file.

A long list of names appeared on the screen. Most were well known Separatist collaborators and leaders. Many had already been killed. Some appeared to be lower associates and spies. Some he had never heard of. The name of Commander Wilhuff Tarkin caught his eye. That was the man who was overseeing the construction of the Death Star. Obi-Wan saved the file.

Then he saw it. Halfway down the list. Jedi Master Pablo-Jill. Obi-Wan's heart jumped ten beats per minute. No …

Below that, Jedi Master Agen Kolar. Jedi Master Saesee Tiin. Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Jedi Master Cin Drallig. Jedi Master Mace Windu. The entire Council was listed. Only his own name and Anakin Skywalker were missing. Obi-Wan's throat was dry. He couldn't breathe. Grievous had told him he had been betrayed, and he had watched the Council exile him. But never this …

He staggered backward. Shock and horror were giving way to furious rage. The room began to tremble slightly. Then the door slid open.

Obi-Wan leapt to the ceiling and held himself there. Reaching out with the Force, he summoned the encryption device to him and hit the reset button on the terminal. Then he cloaked himself even deeper in darkness and waited.

Grievous stepped into the room. The General glared around the room for a moment, searching, and then stalked over to the terminal directly beneath the suspended Jedi.

Obi-Wan breathed in shallowly. He had the file. He had his lightsaber. All he needed to down was drop down and stab Grievous before he could react. It would be easy, quick, and efficient.

But he couldn't do it. If he killed Grievous now, he would have to run a gauntlet of at least a hundred MagnaGuards plus deal with automatic laser cannons and toxins flooding the corridors and lift shafts. It would be impossible to escape, even if he was cloaked. The file would remain un-recovered, the Death Star would deploy, and all would be lost.

Plus, he wanted Grievous to look into his eyes when he killed him. He wanted to see the spark of fear in his enemy's eyes and for the General to know who it was that had destroyed him.

Grievous manipulated something on the keyboard, then coughed, sounding disgusted. He muttered something that was too low for Obi-Wan to catch, then bent further over, peering at the screen.

Suddenly he leapt backward in shock. He pulled two lightsabers from his cloak and ignited them, staring at the screen in disbelief. Obi-Wan pulled his own lightsaber free, but did not ignite it. Instead, he shrank even further into the darkness.

"The file's been accessed," Grievous muttered wildly, spinning around as he scanned the room. "The file's been accessed. Someone's been in here."

He turned towards the desk, then noticed the sliding door to the lightsaber cabinet. Obi-Wan cursed. He had not shut it all the way.

Grievous's eyes flared. "And they're still here."

He turned back toward the terminal. "Show yourself!"

Obi-Wan did not move, tightening his grip on his lightsaber.

Grievous stalked across the room and peered behind the desk. Seeing nothing, he kicked it over. He came back and peered behind the tube. Still nothing.

Grievous began to slowly turn in a full circle, thoroughly examining every corner of the room. Sooner or later, his gaze would come to Obi-Wan's location. Obi-Wan was knew that with his cloak of shadows, he would be very hard to spot, but he wouldn't bet against Grievous in this situation.

Grievous was currently facing the corner opposite Obi-Wan's, moving steadily. He spoke in a low, deadly voice.

"It's you," he said. "I know you're here, Kenobi. Come out. Come face me."

He continued to turn, his predatory gaze getting closer and closer to Obi-Wan. The Jedi plunged so deeply into the shadows that it was literally impossible to distinguish him from the surrounding darkness. Still, Grievous continued to approach.

"You cannot hide from me, Kenobi."

He had seconds now. If the General spotted him a fight was inevitable. It was neither time nor the place he wanted. Something had to be done.

He stretched out with his perceptions. Something was coming down the hallway, likely another patrol. If Grievous didn't find anything, he would still order the room scanned. But there was a way to avoid it and give himself time to escape.

The patrol was past the door now. It was moving much too fast, but he didn't have time to worry about that. Concentrating hard, he began to work on loosening the chain on a light fixture in the hallway. The patrol was almost underneath it. The chain snapped.

A resounding crash echoed throughout the entire floor, along with a yell of surprise. Alarms began to sound, Grievous whirled around toward the noise. Obi-Wan took the moment to drop to the floor and send a thought to Grievous, the sound of lightsabers igniting.

Grievous roared and smashed through the door towards the sound. "I'm coming for you, Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan grinned. One enraged General successfully duped. One file successfully recovered. All at the cost of a single droid patrol. Somehow, the tradeoff seemed worth it.

Ducking through the door Grievous had neglected to close, Obi-Wan sprinted off down the hall towards the turbolift, silent as a shadow.

* * *

Grievous tore down the hall at an insane pace, blinded by rage. Kenobi would pay. He didn't care about Sidious's plans. He just wanted to tear the damnable Jedi apart.

Patrol droids were rushing to the scene of the disturbance, but Grievous outran them all. He arrived at the broken lamp, with a bloodied figure huddled beneath it. He reached out with two of his free hands and grabbed the figure, causing it to scream in pain. "Time to face your death, Jedi!"

He stopped. It wasn't Kenobi. Instead he found himself looking at a starved Twi'lek male shaking and covered in blood. It was one of the slaves. His face was a mixture of hatred, shock, and terror.

Grievous seized him by the throat. "Where is the Jedi!"

The Twi'lek choked, clawing at the General's hands. "Wha … What Jedi?"

"The Jedi!" Grievous shrieked. "The Jedi who you were helping, you slave scum! He freed you so that you could help him break into my room! Where is he?"

The Twi'lek gasped. "Master, there was no Jedi."

"LIAR!" Grievous yelled, throwing the bleeding slave against the wall. "HE WAS HERE! YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS! TELL ME, SLAVE, OR I WILL RIP YOU APART!"

The Twi'lek wailed. "Master, I don't know! Spare me!"

Grievous plunged both his lightsabers into his chest. The Twi'lek gasped, the slumped against the wall, dead.

Grievous turned around wildly to face his bodyguards, who had arrived behind him. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? FIND HIM! BRING HIM TO ME! NOW!"

The bodyguards scattered. Grievous fell back against the wall, coughing and trembling. Kenobi's voice echoed in his mind, laughing, mocking.

Grievous jumped away from the wall. "Get away! You should be dead! I'll kill you again!"

He received no response. The crazed General was left alone in the darkened hallway, a prisoner of his own fears.

* * *

"You have returned," Sidious said as Obi-Wan entered the throne room. "Sooner than I would have guessed. Did you have success?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I did, Lord Sidious."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord breathed. "There were no … incidents? You were able to escape detection?"

"Grievous came in at the end," Obi-Wan said. "He suspected I was there. It was very close."

"But as long as he did not actually see you, he has no case," Sidious said approvingly. "You have done very well, Obi-Wan."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"And the file?"

Obi-Wan handed Sidious the storage device. Sidious plugged the device into the arm of his throne. A video screen rose up before him and he consulted it.

"Despayre," he breathed. "It makes sense. A remote Outer Rim world with no affiliation or native population. The route to get there is torturous. No wonder I have not been able to find it."

Obi-Wan shifted slightly. "Can a task force find it and destroy it before it emerges?"

Sidious frowned. "Unlikely. We may need to wait till it emerges and draw it into a more favorable location. Then … then we can apprehend it."

Obi-Wan shivered slightly. "Lord Sidious, surely you realize that this monstrosity needs to be destroyed as soon as possible."

"Of course," Sidious smiled faintly. "But we will not gain anything by rushing into such a situation unprepared. In time, all things will succeed."

He closed the program and was about to eject the device when he stopped. "What? Ah, I see you took the initiative in procuring another file. Grievous's contacts and associates. Very useful. I commend you."

Obi-Wan's mouth went dry. "Lord Sidious …"

Sidious opened the file and consulted it. "Yes, I thought so … ah, yes that would explain a great deal … very good …" He stopped.

"Jedi Master Pablo-Jill?" he breathed. "Agen Kolar? Mace Windu? This is … this is …"

His gaze fell on Obi-Wan's rigid figure. "But then, I suppose that this would explain a great deal also."

Obi-Wan took a step forward. "What do you mean?"

"How did Grievous know that you were arriving on Utapau? How did he manage to apprehend you when you are so much stronger than he? He was prepared. The Jedi Council must have tipped him off. I know through my connections that you were starting to disagree with them, straying to far from tradition. You and your friend Anakin. They were threatened by you. They must have decided that you needed to be removed, even if it meant contacting their mortal enemy."

Obi-Wan's teeth clenched in rage. "Never!"

Sidious bowed his head. "I am sorry, my friend. Even I, who suspected the Jedi of being more than they seemed, did not see this. It is unthinkable. Yet at the same time, it fits."

Obi-Wan turned away from the Dark Lord. True … it was all true. Everything Grievous had told him was true. The Jedi Council had betrayed him.

He collapsed to his knees and screamed in sorrow and rage. "WHY?"

Sidious spoke. "I wish I could give you an answer. However, I can only offer this. Never is anything purely good or purely evil. The Sith, for instance, are perceived as cruel and evil, because we follow the Darkside. Yet in our hearts, our motives have reason. Our goals have meaning. We live in this galaxy, just like you. We want its life to continue. The Jedi, are perceived by all to be just and good. Yet they have the darkness as well. They fear change, and willing to destroy to prevent it. Even their most selfless decisions have a selfish part. The two are inseparable. It is the will of the Force, for the Force is all of these things. Many have tried to comprehend it. But only a few have succeeded. Now you are one of them."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet again. "Lord Sidious, I must ask that we do not discuss this anymore."

"Of course," Sidious said. "But I hope you can learn from it. The truth is always better than lies."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I will try."

Sidious smiled. "Excellent. For now, though, we must be focused. You have brought me the location of the weapon. The path is now clear. It is time to eliminate General Grievous."

Obi-Wan turned around. Hatred and resolve made a mask of his face. "I am ready, My Lord."

"I know you are," Sidious hissed. "I can feel your anger. It gives you power beyond your former limits. Take it. Use it. Complete this necessary task, avenge yourself, and eliminate this scourge of democracy and peace once and for all!"

Obi-Wan grasped his new lightsaber tightly and let anger course through him. His time had come.

* * *


	22. The Rise of a Sith

Hey everyone! I apologize - I meant to get this post up days earlier, but went crazy on me and wouldn't let me submit this chapter. So here it is now.

This is the crucial moment of the story so far. There is going to be a big surprise at the end, which is actually not so big if you consider the title. Everything will be explained in an author's note at the end of this chapter.

Enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter 22**

He stormed down the corridors towards the throne room, his field of vision so narrowed that he could not focus on anything but what was directly in front of him. His gait was stiff and purposeful, his feet slamming into the floor harder than necessary, causing his reconstructed leg to groan a little in protest. His hands were balled into tight fist, his arms were trembling with suppressed rage. The glare in his eyes was not a malevolent stare of calculating cruelty, but a hateful resolve born of desperation and fear. It was not the look the galaxy had learned to fear.

General Grievous no longer cared.

He had been blind and stupid. He should have seen this coming. He should have slain Kenobi when he had him at his mercy on Utapau. But he hadn't. He had allowed his enemy to rise, and resurrect himself stronger than ever before. Obi-Wan Kenobi should have died, but now, it was time for Grievous to rectify his mistake.

The experiment had failed, miserably. Grievous supposed he had always known that it would, but he had been in no position to refuse to participate in Lord Sidious's plan. His objections had been silenced after he had defeated Kenobi and begun to work on him. The Jedi had responded almost exactly as Lord Sidious had predicted he would, trying to remain true to his morals even while they crumbled underneath him. Then he had been completely washed away, and he had fallen right into the trap the Dark Lord had set for him, ready to be reshaped according to Sidious's designs. His rage over the Jedi Council's "betrayal" was a potent factor that had no doubt hastened his demise. But Grievous knew that it was not the main cause.

Kenobi's strongest anger was directed at the General himself. He had seen it there, in Kenobi's eyes, probably even before the Jedi himself realized it. It had built itself up into a torrential inferno that had merged seamlessly into him, forming the demon who now waited for him in his mind, lightsaber in hand, seeking his chance to avenge himself and destroy Grievous once and for all.

The General shuddered almost imperceptibly. Maybe he could make his master see reason. There was no possible way that Lord Sidious would have allowed Kenobi a chance to try and steal the Death Star plans. It was the one project that he was absolutely committed to, even more than his desire to obtain Kenobi and equal in his desire to gain Skywalker. Surely he would realize that Kenobi was not worth more than the planetary superweapon in which they had both invested so much. Kenobi was, after all, only human.

_He's only human._

But Kenobi didn't seem human. No ordinary human could have accomplished what he had done. The two of them, Skywalker and Kenobi, seemed to have powers beyond any mortal Jedi or being he had ever met. The thought of them standing on either side of Lord Sidious, an invincible fighting force bound to the Darkside, was truly inspiring, and at the same time, terrifying. Could such a force be more potent than the Death Star? Would Sidious choose his two apprentices over the superweapon he had commissioned?

Either way, there would be no room for General Grievous. If he were to survive he had to take the initiative. He had beaten Kenobi before. He could beat him now. He had to try.

He had arrived at the doors of the throne room. Grievous steeled himself, then pushed them open.

"Ah, General," Sidious called out from his throne on the other side of the room. "Welcome. To what do I owe this most … unexpected visit?"

Grievous marched determinedly over to the foot of Sidious's platform. "My Lord, I have matter I wish to discuss with you. One of grave and pressing urgency."

Sidious leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, General."

Grievous took a deep breath. "It's Kenobi."

"Yes," Sidious said calmly. "He's coming along marvelously, wouldn't you agree?"

"As matter of fact, My Lord, no," Grievous said. "I am here to tell you that Kenobi is becoming a severe threat to us and our designs."

Sidious's voice became cold. "General, I have already discussed this with you. You have expressed your concerns and they were noted. I do not believe that they are any cause for alarm."

"I, on the other hand, do," Grievous said angrily. He knew that it was a dangerous tactic to lose his temper with Lord Sidious, but there was nothing for it now. He had to get the Dark Lord's attention if he was going to make him see sense. "Less than two hours ago, someone broke into my quarters, accessed the terminal, and succeeded in recovering a copy of the Death Star plans. When I entered, I noticed that someone had also opened my lightsaber collection. It was Kenobi. He was hiding in my room. I tried to corner him, but he staged a diversion and was able to escape, with a copy of the Death Star file."

Sidious was silent. After a moment, Grievous continued.

"Lord Sidious, do you realize what this means? If Kenobi has taken this file, then the entire project is at risk. If even a hint of this gets back to Republic Intelligence, it could set us back immeasurably."

"I can assure you, General, that Kenobi remains well within my control," Sidious said icily. "That he recovered a single copy of the file is of no consequence. The project is still secure. And it is little concern of mine if your extensive security arrangements failed to keep my protégé out. If that is all …"

If Grievous had had a mouth, he would have been grinding his teeth into dust. It was time to lay it all on the line. He knew he was right. If his master wanted to sign his own death sentence by being blind and stupid considering his lunatic Jedi ally, that was fine. But he wasn't taking General Grievous with him.

"My Lord, I am going to speak freely," he said determinedly. "I think you are making a serious, and potentially fatal, mistake. Kenobi is dangerous. He is deadly. You have created a demon that cannot or will not be controlled. The way he has been manipulated has left him emotionally volatile and unstable. I have seen it firsthand. There are only certain amounts of pain that the human mind can take, but in our rush to break him we ignored them. No one can have every moral truth they have ever lived by shattered at once, then be expected to recover fully. Kenobi may seem to be fine now, but what will happen when he experiences more power? When he returns to the galaxy and makes contact with his friends and comrades again? Is there anything to stop him from betraying us? We have created our own worst enemy. I can only imagine the catastrophic effect that we will experience if you attempt to break Skywalker the same way! Your plans will crumble. Your New Order will be washed away. Thousands of years of waiting on behalf of the Sith will have been for nothing!"

He dropped to one knee. "Lord Sidious, I speak out of both of our best interests. Kenobi has to be eliminated. Let me end this threat now. If for any reason you believe that I speak wrongly, then let me be incinerated in the fires of your creation!" He bowed his head and awaited judgment.

For a minute, Sidious was completely silent. Grievous waited apprehensively. Then the Dark Lord sighed.

"You are right, my General," he said resignedly. "I have been blind in this matter. Kenobi is very powerful, but he is not worth more than the blood and works of a hundred generations of my predecessors. I should have realized it sooner."

He cast a resigned hand in the direction of the door. "Destroy him."

Grievous rose to his feet and bowed, inwardly smiling in triumph. "My Lord, with pleasure."

He turned around and headed for the doors, pulling his lightsabers out as he went. If he could take Kenobi by surprise, then he could avoid a long and deadly struggle. After all, what did he have to prove? He had already beaten Kenobi. He didn't need to best him again. He just needed to kill him.

"Going somewhere, General?"

Grievous whirled around. A dark hooded figure emerged from the shadows near the concealed elevator. There seemed to be no definable edge between the man's slightly swaying cloak and the dark shadows he had emerged from.

The figure removed its hood, revealing the scarred yet smiling face of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"You shouldn't try to leave when someone's talking to you, General," he said amusedly, his voice carrying a deadly edge. "One might call it disrespectful … or even cowardly."

Grievous quickly buried his surprise and spread his arms. "Ah, Master Kenobi. You're timing couldn't be better. Or should I say worse?"

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly. "For me, General, the timing was impeccable. For you, I'd say it's rather unfortunate, unless of course you harbor suicidal tendencies."

Grievous snarled slightly. "For a man facing his doom, you seem remarkably relaxed."

Obi-Wan's blue eyes glowed with a strange light. "On the contrary, finally having you in my sights is causing quite a stir within me now. You seem to be experiencing something similar. Or it could just be that you're quaking with fear."

Grievous took a menacing step forward. "I fear no one!"

Obi-Wan looked him dead in the eye.

"You fear me."

Grievous took an involuntary step backward. Obi-Wan smiled.

Grievous pulled off his cloak and ignited his four lightsabers one by one. "I crushed you the last time we fought, Kenobi. You were fortunate enough to survive then, but you have been living on borrowed time. Death will not be cheated of its prize."

Obi-Wan calmly pulled out his black handled lightsaber and ignited it. An eerie red glow highlighted his face as he began to circle around Grievous cutting off his escape. "I'll be sure not to damage you too badly then."

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Kenobi," Grievous hissed, advancing menacingly. "Slowly. Painfully."

"Even at the end, you fail to understand, General," Obi-Wan said. "I do not fear death. But you do. And for that reason, you _will_ die."

"Filth!" Grievous roared. "You are doomed!"

Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber into the ready position, the fire of combat rising into his eyes. "Defend yourself, Grievous!"

Howling in rage, Grievous charged.

Obi-Wan's red blade clashed into the forest of blue and green energy as Grievous sought to overwhelm his opponent with shear brutality and force. It was old tactic, almost disrespectful. Not to mention ineffective.

A blue saber came swinging at his head. Obi-Wan ducked easily and brought his weapon around to meet the green blade sliding toward his thigh. He parried, shoved the blade back, then moved his sword slightly upward to counter a stab aimed at his chest. Grievous tried another jab at his torso with another blade before bringing down his first weapon in a punishing chop toward Obi-Wan's head. Slight movements with his saber, and Obi-Wan effortlessly parried both.

Grievous's flurry of blows began to slow as none of them came close to making contact. His strikes became more measured and precise, seeking to draw Obi-Wan's one blade out of position so that he could attack the resulting opening with his other weapons. The problem was that Obi-Wan wasn't giving him any openings. His blade barely seemed to move, yet he managed to stop every strike and at the same time throw in counters to disrupt the flow.

Obi-Wan ducked and rolled under two of Grievous's blades, and suddenly he was behind the General. Grievous spun around to counter him, only to find himself off balance. Obi-Wan leapt up to his feet and with a ferocity he had never before exhibited, pressed the attack.

Grievous was forced back, all four of his blades having to work to parry Obi-Wan's. The Jedi wasted no time or energy with his strikes, while the General, despite his advantages in weaponry and strength, was forced to overtax himself. Obi-Wan swung his saber toward Grievous's right leg, then feinted an assault at his left. Sensing an opening, Grievous attacked.

Obi-Wan's blade flicked up and sheared through the General's forearm, and the lightsaber it held. The sparking fragments of the two fell to the floor.

Grievous stared in disbelief for a moment at the stump of his metal arm. Obi-Wan smiled sadistically.

"Familiar feeling?"

Grievous swung his three remaining lightsabers violently in Obi-Wan's direction. The Jedi dodged them, then resumed his attack. Grievous fought back aggressively, halting Obi-Wan's advance, but making no headway in pushing the Jedi back.

Obi-Wan took a step backward. Thinking he finally had his enemy on the defensive, Grievous lunged forward.

A wave of solid force energy rose to meet him. Grievous was thrown backwards like a leaf in a Vortex gale to smash against the wall, barely managing to hold onto all his weapons. He slid to the floor, stunned.

"Get up, Grievous."

Obi-Wan strode calmly to where the General lay. Grievous ignited his weapons again, warding off the Jedi, but his mechanical legs were not fully back online yet. They wouldn't support his weight.

"No?" Obi-Wan asked malevolently. "Let me _help_ you up."

Grievous rose into the air and was thrown across the room. He skidded along the floor, sending sparks rising from the black stone. Obi-Wan followed, twirling his weapon lazily.

"Stand up, General. I know you're not done yet. If you cannot find the strength to continue to fight, however, I will cut you down where you lie."

Grievous slowly rose to his knees. Pure, unfiltered hatred poured from his as he stared at his amused Jedi enemy. "You are unwise to lower your defenses!"

He shoved himself to his feet and sprung towards Obi-Wan. The fallen Jedi raised his lightsaber and met his opponent's swinging blades in a tornado of killing light. The two traded furious blows for several minutes. All the while they glared at each other, searching for an opportunity.

Suddenly Obi-Wan was gone. The Jedi leapt several meters into the air and came down on the General's other side. Grievous spun around and brought two of his weapons to bear on him. Obi-Wan raised his own saber to parry, and the weapons locked.

Grievous laughed triumphantly. He had drawn Kenobi into a stalemate with two of his weapons, but the Jedi had no way to block the third. He moved his blade in for the killing strike.

In a flash, Obi-Wan ripped his blade free and spun it in a circle, coming around to meet the General's killing blow. His red blade tore through the handle of Grievous's green one, severing it. He flipped over backwards, out of range of the remaining two sabers.

Grievous kicked the useless remains of his second weapon away, then began to circle toward Obi-Wan slowly, determinedly. Obi-Wan circled around the General as well, red lightsaber held centimeters from his own cheek, its point aiming directly at his enemy's heart.

"Your powers have grown," Grievous admitted, as he let out a hacking cough. "But unfortunately, they will not be enough to save you!"

He charged forward with his two sabers extended. Obi-Wan caught them on his blade and shoved, forcing the General to take a step back. Their lightsabers connected again, and this time they locked. The two combatants stared at each other over the red and blue-green glows of their weapons, deadly blue boring into sickly yellow.

"Your arrogance remains undiminished," Obi-Wan told his opponent. "And it will be the end of you."

Grievous snarled and ripped his blades away, breaking the lock. He whirled his blades around in a blinding inferno, then leapt at Obi-Wan again. The Jedi neatly side stepped and swung through, gouging Grievous's back.

The General arched as the shock of the wound transmitted itself to his sensors, then spun around toward Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan leapt into the air again and flipped over the General, dealing him a ferocious blow to the face. The General reeled and swung blindly with his free hand. He managed to hit Obi-Wan's knee.

Obi-Wan tumbled to the ground, his lightsaber rolling free of his grip. With his free hand Grievous seized a loose chunk of stone and hurled it at his opponent. Obi-Wan rolled to dodge it, and the stone smashed on the floor where his head had been. The Jedi leapt up, then used the Force to send the stone flying back into the General's face. Grievous closed his eyes to shield them from the jagged ends of the rock. Obi-Wan took advantage of the moment to summon his lightsaber, leap in under Grievous's guard, and deliver a deadly uppercut to his torso. The General opened his eyes just in time to twist slightly in attempt to avoid the blow, but it was too late.

The searing red blade tore through the General's reinforced armor cage, ripping him open from torso to chest. Sparks flew as containment seals ruptured, exposing the organic sac containing Grievous's living organs. The General howled, and with blazing eyes, Obi-Wan moved in for the kill.

In desperation, Grievous kicked out with one of his clawed feet, nailing Obi-Wan squarely in the chest. The Jedi tumbled backward, and his strike went wide.

Grievous looked down at his exposed organs in horror, which quickly translated into a scream of rage. He launched himself into the air, both sabers raised, ready to skewer his downed opponent.

Obi-Wan leapt nimbly to his feet, then extended an open palm toward the descending General. He clenched into a fist and made a violent motion with it. Grievous was thrown hard to the floor several meters away, his lightsabers leaving a molten trail in the stone.

Obi-Wan moved determinedly toward the downed General. Grievous rose slowly to his feet, then crossed his blades and met the Jedi's downward chop. He pushed himself to his feet while maintaining the lock, forcing it ruthlessly back towards Obi-Wan. In terms of physical power, the hydraulic piston arms of Grievous far outstripped Obi-Wan's muscles. Yet Obi-Wan did not back down. He held firm, forcing the General to a stalemate.

Once again, Grievous broke the lock. He pulled back and began circling cautiously, waiting for another chance to strike. Obi-Wan watched him as well, every muscle in his body appearing relaxed, but in reality screaming with suppressed tension. He had already seen his opening. Grievous was wounded; he could not afford to be as aggressive as he normally would be for fear of exposing his vulnerable innards. All he needed was one little misstep …

Suddenly Grievous lunged forward at incredible speed. Obi-Wan took the blow and allowed himself to be driven back towards the far wall. Every blow he parried, the General struck harder, fueled by desperate rage to finish Obi-Wan off before the Jedi could take advantage of his weakened state. When Obi-Wan was only a few steps from the wall, he acted.

Catching the General's two blades on his own, he thrust upward, then dropped to his knees and rolled under the General's guard. He pulled himself into a crouch behind his enemy, then struck. There was a metallic screech as the servomotors of the General's left knee buckled.

Grievous staggered. Obi-Wan kicked his enemy into the wall. The General turned around, barely managing to stay upright. Obi-Wan grinned savagely and unleashed a blast of torrential blue-green energy from beyond his fingertips.

Grievous caught the blast on his two lightsabers and held it back. Obi-Wan kept his aim steady, teeth barred in rage as he focused the lightning directly at the General. With all the strength left in him, Grievous held it back.

Slowly, the flow of lightning began to subside. The General pushed off from the wall and forced the energy back at his Jedi enemy. Resisting the assault built up stress on his metallic joints, but he pushed even harder. He had Kenobi on the defensive now.

The energy flow stopped abruptly. The built up tension in the robotic motors forced the General's arms forward, and ever so slightly out of position. Obi-Wan leapt forward and brought his blade down in a ferocious chop. The energy blade ripped through the General's two remaining weapons and the arms that held them, leaving the stunned General open to attack.

Obi-Wan head butted Grievous, then kicked the reeling General right in the exposed chest with added strength from the Force. Grievous flew backward and landed skidding near his discarded cloak. Obi-Wan advanced on downed foe, blade at his side.

Grievous pushed himself up slightly and skittered backward on his legs and one remaining hand like a three-legged crab. His back touched the wall. He was pinned.

"Good, my young friend, good," Sidious called out from his throne. He had been observing the entire duel with delight, but up until the moment had been silent. "Truly a most impressive display. Now, end it!"

Obi-Wan's face split into a triumphant smile, touched with a savage satisfaction. Thirty paces away, he slowly moved in for the kill.

Grievous coughed raggedly as he tried to scrabble away from his approaching doom. It couldn't end here. Not after all that had happened. The Jedi demon was seconds from taking his life. He needed something … anything.

His damaged leg brushed against his discarded cloak. There was something inside it. Something hard. Of course …

Grievous snatched the cloak with his remaining hand and began to tear at it, trying to free the one object that could save him. Obi-Wan watched the General's pitiful efforts with a contemptuous sneer as he continued to advance. Twenty paces away.

Grievous succeeded in tearing a hole in the cloak. His hand plunged inside and withdrew a shiny, cylindrical object. A lightsaber.

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. So the coward had another weapon. He should have expected that. Not that it would save him. As he watched the wounded General fumble with the ignition switch, he experienced a flash of recognition. One that quickly turned ice cold in shock. Not just any lightsaber.

_His_ lightsaber.

The one he had constructed so many years ago. The one that he had used throughout the Clone Wars, in all those battles side by side with Anakin. The one that he had lost on Utapau because of Grievous's trickery. His lightsaber.

The sight of his treasured weapon in the hands of his archenemy, the slime that was General Grievous, turned into a trophy, turned against him, drove Obi-Wan over the edge. He abandoned his slow approach. He charged at Grievous with a roar of unparalleled rage, red lightsaber raised to spear his cowering opponent.

Desperately, Grievous jabbed the ignition button. A meter long blade of thrumming blue energy pulsed into life. He forced himself to his knees. He would not be able to stand. He stood no chance in combat with the Jedi. Lightsaber or no lightsaber, he would be slaughtered. There were no options left. As the possessed Jedi bore down on him, Grievous locked the lightsaber on and hurled it with all his strength at his enemy.

The blade took Obi-Wan right through the chest.

The Jedi's insane rush halted as he looked in shock at the ice blue blade that had just speared through his right lung. His red saber fell from his suddenly nerveless grasp and rolled across the floor to rest near Grievous. He grasped at his impaled chest. The weapon was buried up to the hilt, and the still glowing blue blade penetrated through the exit wound in his back.

Grievous stared in disbelief at the Jedi. It was over. He had won. No mortal man could survive a wound like that. He had been savagely beaten, utterly dominated, and completely humiliated by Obi-Wan, and yet somehow, he had survived.

With great difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet. His destroyed leg servomotor groaned in protest. The shattered fragments of three of his arms sparked feebly. Molten metal dripped from the wound on his back. His vision blurred. He touched his exposed organ sac, and registered fluid on the tips of his fingers. It had been ruptured. He was draining out. If he didn't get to Maintenance soon, he would die. Yet he was unable to dim the feeling of sheer relief and euphoria that washed over him. It was over.

"Admirable effort, Kenobi," he wheezed as he bent down to pick up the Jedi's dropped lightsaber. "But in the end, results are all that matter. You may have defeated me in lightsaber combat, but as things stand now, I am going to live, and you are going to die. What a galaxy, eh?"

He stopped next to Kenobi's trembling, kneeling figure, the blue saber blade still sticking from his back. "I warned you about disrespecting your opponent, Kenobi. You didn't listen. It's a tragedy for the Jedi, one of the reasons they are doomed. Maybe your friend Skywalker will be the one to realize it … or not. But don't worry. You have the afterlife to look forward to. Maybe there you'll finally gain some wisdom."

He limped slowly to the foot of Sidious's dais and stared up at the Dark Lord. "Master, your will is done. The Jedi traitor has been slain, and your vision is safe."

He bowed his head. "Have I not proved my commitment to the ideals of the New Order?"

Darth Sidious was silent. He had risen from his throne, and was staring at the fallen Jedi, his shadowed face expressionless. His withered hands clenched slowly, then relaxed.

Obi-Wan knelt on the cold stone floor, his eyes closed and teeth gritted in intense pain. But the physical pain was nothing compared to that which he felt in his heart. He had failed. Despite all he had done, the training he had undergone, he had not been able to kill his enemy. The Republic would die. His friends would die. The treachery of the Jedi Council would go unnoticed. And it was all his fault.

A white light appeared in front of him, beckoning him toward it. He began to hear voices, some familiar, some not. Comrades he had known and watched die, great Jedi warriors he had admired, old mentors and friends. He thought he even heard his beloved former master, Qui-Gon Jinn, talking to him. A lesson, echoing Master Yoda, he had learned so long ago … _Death is but the next great adventure …_

But there was another voice. One that spoke to him from the present, not beyond. From his own memory, in the darkest corner, the voice of his enemy General Grievous, reverberated. It echoed so loudly that it began to drown out the peaceful whispers from the netherworld that was opening before him.

_I have killed you, Obi-Wan Kenobi …_

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open. He wasn't dead yet. He had sworn to himself that while he still lived, he would kill General Grievous. His work was not done. His vow needed to be fulfilled, no matter what the cost. If he had to die, he was taking Grievous with him.

Anger flowed into him, a surging wave of power that washed away his pain, washed away everything but the singular notion in his mind: my enemy must die.

Obi-Wan rose to his feet. Power rolled through him, off him, around him. He was its embodiment. He could not fail.

"Grievous!" he yelled. "Maybe you should wait to insult me until _after_ you've killed me!"

The General stiffened in shock, then slowly turned around.

With a titanic effort, Obi-Wan wrenched the still ignited blade from his body and turned to face his enemy. Despite the cauterization, a steady flow of blood began to roll from the wound in his chest, staining his tunic. He did not feel it.

Grievous ignited the red blade in his hand and began to move towards Obi-Wan. The Jedi did not waste time with banter or force powers. Blue lightsaber whirling in an intractable arc, he rushed the General.

Grievous was driven back like a padawan facing a master. His desperate parries barely managed to hold back Obi-Wan's strikes. Form was disregarded as he fought for his life, to no avail.

With effortless ease, Obi-Wan drove Grievous to the foot of the dais, trapping him with nowhere to escape. The General swung furiously at the Jedi, trying to clear himself space. It was a fatal mistake.

Obi-Wan batted the strike away with ease, then reversed his grip and brought his blade down. There was a shriek of melting metal, and the remains of the General's final weapon fell to the floor with his last severed hand.

Obi-Wan kicked his defenseless enemy, causing him to stagger backward away from the dais. A quick strike took out Grievous's other leg servomotor, forcing the General to his knees. Obi-Wan stepped back, placing himself in front of his defeated foe.

Utterly broken, Grievous raised his head to look upon his conqueror. What he saw stunned him.

Gone were the steel blue eyes that had pierced through his metal skeleton and found the means to destroy him. Gone were the ice blue chips of determination that had haunted him for weeks. Replacing them were a pair of burning yellow orbs of rage, oddly similar to his own, that seared through his body to gaze at the tattered remains of Grievous's soul. And he knew he had never stood a chance. Fate was not to be denied, nor the will of the Force to be subverted. He was meant to die. The fight had been over before it had even begun.

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly, acknowledging with finality his defeated opponent.

Then he drove his blade into Grievous's open chest.

The superheated charge from Obi-Wan's lightsaber lanced through the thin walls of the sac protecting Grievous's organs, ripped through the inner containment shields, and ignited the preservative fluid within. The fire spread to every corner of his body, searing along the artificial pathways that had brought him life.

Grievous began to burn.

The fire began to grow in heat and volume, quickly consuming the General. He became a towering inferno, which soared high above the vessel that had birthed it towards the distant black ceiling. Grievous screamed as the heat incinerated all that was left of his internal organs and began to melt the lifeless metal shell that had contained them. Pressurized jets of flame erupted from his eye sockets and every other open space on his body. All the while, the flames of triumph that mirrored the scene burned in Obi-Wan Kenobi's eyes.

Then the flames reached Grievous's central power core, and triggered an explosion. Deprived of fuel, the fire went out, and the twisted metal skeleton that had once been General Grievous, feared Commander of the Separatist Droid Armies, scourge of freedom and justice in the galaxy, toppled backwards onto the floor.

Obi-Wan exhaled deeply, then deactivated his lightsaber. For a moment, he stared at the charred remains of his enemy, then he turned his back. The fire that had been sustaining him began to fade away. His yellow eyes slid back to their more natural ice blue shade. A stab of pain came from the wound in his chest, and he suddenly felt very cold.

Sidious had been descending the steps of the platform during Grievous's immolation. Now he stopped two steps above Obi-Wan on the floor. Obi-Wan turned to face him. "It is done."

"Indeed," Sidious said quietly. "The Republic is safe. But not without cost."

He pointed to the deep wound in Obi-Wan's chest. Obi-Wan grimaced as he sucked in a ragged breath, then shrugged. "It was necessary."

Sidious nodded. "Because of your sacrifice, Grievous has been eliminated. The people of the galaxy owe you a debt they can never repay."

Obi-Wan nodded his head in response. Blood was filling his chest and mouth. Some trickled out of the corner down the side of his face.

"You have fulfilled all the terms of our agreement," Sidious told him. "Now, my friend, I have a very serious question for you. Do you still desire your freedom? Do you wish to return to the world you knew before your capture, to the service of the Jedi Council and the Senate? Or do you wish to remain here, under my tutelage, and forge your own path and destiny? "

Obi-Wan let the question sink in. Freedom … he had longed for it for so long. There it was, so close, yet at the same time, still an unreachable dream. And what was freedom? Did returning to the organization that had cast him out and left him for dead qualify as freedom? Tying himself once more to those resolute morals demanded by the Jedi Council, which despite false pledges, they did not follow? The corrupt Senate? The slanted judiciary? Was that what he wanted?

Of course, his friends waited for him. Padmé, Bail, Sabé, and Anakin. Anakin … his brother was still under the yoke of the treacherous Jedi Council. But he knew that something was wrong. If he returned, he could free him. But for what?

He had made a mistake, or so he had believed. He had thought that through his blindness, he had allowed Anakin to slip away from the Jedi. While he had still been blind, what if it had been for a purpose? Maybe in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled, it was necessary for Anakin to be free of the Jedi. In order to be a true servant of the Force, in order to obtain its true power, maybe that was what was necessary.

Even now, power called to him. He felt empty without it. He knew how to use it now. Perhaps, in time, he could fix everything that had gone wrong, and rebuild the ideal he had been following. Peace, Justice, and Freedom for all.

That was what Lord Sidious had told him. The Dark Lord also sought those things. Maybe he was not an enemy of the Republic, but its savior. His capture had not been an accident. It was the will of the Force that had led him here, to Sidious. He was being offered a choice: acceptance or denial. All he had to do was choose. And now, in this moment, the choice was clear.

"Lord Sidious," he said, fighting to stay conscious against the rising tide. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead. He was betrayed into the hands of his enemies. He fought long and hard, but in the end he died when General Grievous killed him. But I would stay with you, my Lord."

He struggled to one knee. "I pledge myself … to your teachings."

Sidious closed his eyes. "Gooooood."

Obi-Wan looked up. "Just help me avenge myself on those who betrayed me. The Jedi Council. Let me fix my mistake and save my friends from a similar fate."

"A New Order," Sidious said, "is rising. Dedicated to the very ideals in which you and your friends believe. If we work together, I know that we can make it a reality."

Obi-Wan tried to speak, but failed. He coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth. Yet still, he refused to fall.

Sidious opened his eyes. "The Force is strong with you," he hissed. "As it is in your friend Anakin. You will need to show him the true path. In doing this, a powerful Sith, you will become."

He raised his hands to the ceiling and declared, "Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth … Vader."

The man formerly known as Obi-Wan Kenobi raised his head. "Thank you … my Master."

Then he fell into the darkness.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Yes, you read that last part correctly. Darth Vader. Don't jump up yet. I actually know what I'm doing here.

Just because Obi-Wan has become Darth Vader does not mean necessarily that he will follow Anakin's exact path. And more importantly, just because Anakin has not been given the name Darth Vader does not mean he is safe from the Darkside. Far from it.

When I first started writing this story, this was my original intention. As the story progressed however, I began to consider giving Obi-Wan an original Sith name, and saving Darth Vader on the possibility that Anakin would turn. However, I couldn't find any really good one that just made me go _yes, that's it_. The closest I got was Darth Desero (Rough Latin translation meaning "foresaken"). However, I eventually decided that using Vader for Obi-Wan opened up a lot more interesting plot scenarios than Darth Desero. You'll see as the story progresses.

Anyway, sorry if this note seems condescending. It probably wasn't necessary, but I just wanted to clear this matter up and take the initiative.

Things are really going to pick from here? Are you ready?


	23. The Master Comes Forth

Welcome back! Thank so much to everyone for all your replies, particularly those who volunteered Sith names. I already know where I'm going with this story, so I'm not sure I'll need them, but maybe for my next story when it comes out.

I said things are going to pick up. This chapter might not have a hell of a lot of action, but believe me, it will get there.**

* * *

**

**Chapter 23**

"As far as I'm concerned, we have said everything that needs to be said on this issue," stated Agen Kolar. "As valuable as Kashyyyk is, it is not worth the staggering loss of life that our forces have endured to fight to a stalemate. They would be better served securing other worlds, while we reorganize our forces for a fresh assault."

Mace Windu listened expressionlessly to Kolar's argument, his face resting on his hand. The debate on this particular issue had gone on for so long that he almost didn't need it to hear what his fellow masters were saying to know the next turn it would take. The battle on Kashyyyk had been dragging on for weeks now. At first a quick Republic victory had seemed inevitable, but things had taken a turn for the worse when the Separatists had launched a surprise attack and managed to capture an important Wookie city.

An exhausted Yoda had been forced to lead a long siege to recover it. That battle was currently at its peak, and Yoda's empty seat was a constant reminder of how tenuous the situation was. Though the Republic Army was progressing and driving the Separatists back, they were doing it "over bridges of their comrades' bodies," as Commander Gree had described it. Now several of the Masters were arguing that rather than expend more troops in the deadly assault, they should pull off of Kashyyyk entirely and regroup. Mace didn't even have to hear the battle statistics. He knew it was a serious mistake.

Several Masters nodded in approval as Agen Kolar finished. Others did not. Shaak Ti looked torn between a fervent desire to preserve life and a resolve to achieve the important victory that the clones were fighting for. Kit Fisto did not make his choice clear on his face, but Mace knew that he, as a warrior, wanted the fight to go on.

"Master Windu, shall we vote?"

Mace looked up. "Quite frankly, Master Kolar, I don't think there's anything to vote on."

Kolar looked stunned. "We have just made our case that the battle is a lost cause. In the best interest of our troops, we should pull back."

"Master Kolar, the battle is far from lost. No, I do not need to hear the statistics. This is a world that we absolutely cannot afford to lose. Yes, we are taking losses. But pulling out now would be more dangerous than sticking it out. Many battalions are deep behind enemy lines. If we give the retreat signal now, their cover will be blown and a thousand more lives will be lost. The clones want to keep fighting. This is the right course for them and the right course for us."

Master Kolar looked completely unconvinced. "If Master Yoda were present, I'm sure he would agree with us that conserving life is more important that winning a military victory."

Two seats away, Pablo-Jill made a noise that sounded like a gurgle of agreement. The Ongree Jedi Master's neck was bruised and heavily bandaged. Though it had been several days since Anakin had choked him, he had not regained use of his voice yet. The Jedi healers had assured him that he would be fine in a few days, but thus far he had not improved, and the Council room was notably quieter and more peaceful.

"The entire reason that Master Yoda is not present," Mace stated flatly, "Is that the battle on Kashyyyk is so intense that he was unable to tear himself away even for something as crucial as this meeting. It is unlikely that he would be able to retreat if he wanted too, which I have a strong feeling he does not. Therefore, this issue is a moot point, and will not be discussed further. There will be no vote. Our troops have been successful thus far, and we are not going to place their lives at even greater risk by making impractical decisions."

Master Kolar opened his mouth, then closed it. Uncomfortable silence reigned. Mace had a feeling, however, that it wouldn't last very long.

Finally, Saesee Tiin spoke up. "Master Windu, you have been in dozens of battles since this war began, and your knowledge of tactics is second to none. We will support your decision. However …"

He paused, and glanced briefly around the room. Pablo-Jill nodded slightly, a gesture that appeared to hurt his neck, so he stopped. It was enough, however, to getting Saesee Tiin talking again.

"We, that is to say the Jedi Council, have noticed lately that you have been making liberal use of your executive power as a Senior Council Member. Fewer issues are being put to vote. Of course, you are entitled to use the veto if you feel it is appropriate, but this is a democratic council. We are worried that you have … lost sight of that."

Cin Drallig leaned forward and chimed in. "Don't think that we have lost faith in your leadership, Master Windu. You are a great and noble servant of the Republic, and have been for many years. We are only asking if you acknowledge that your recent actions have been a bit extreme for a Senior Council member …"

His voice tailed off and he leaned back in his chair. Since he had been accepted onto the Council, Master Drallig had been outspoken on many issues, particularly anything involving assertive action. He never brought the issues up himself, however, merely echoed the sentiments of the others with greater force.

Mace stayed silent, looking first at Saesee Tiin, then Drallig. His dark eyes did not convey any anger or displeasure, but nevertheless Tiin and Drallig appeared to be extremely uncomfortable. He shot a quick glance around the room at several other Jedi Masters, as if ensuring that he had support.

When the room was so quiet that a pin drop outside the door could be heard, Mace finally spoke.

"Democracy is my life's work and its preservation my greatest goal. Please do not accuse me of harboring ulterior designs."

Drallig looked taken aback. "Master Windu, never! We were not suggesting …"

"Yes, Cin, you were," Mace interrupted calmly. "Do not worry. I am not angry, and I do not hold it against you. But do not take me for a fool."

Master Drallig seemed to deflate. He closed his mouth and slumped back in his seat. The other Masters likewise went silent. Mace let them sit there while they recovered, during which time no one dared to talk or make a motion.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mace spoke quietly. "Council adjourned."

There was a dignified, yet rapid scramble for the exit. Someone jostled Pablo-Jill, and the Jedi Master nearly toppled over. Master Kolar seized his arm and half-marched, half-dragged him through the open door. After Kit Fisto left the door slid shut, leaving Mace, who had not made a move, alone in the Council Chamber.

The Korun Master stood up and walked over to the window. It was still early, but the first traces of evening were starting to appear. He crossed his arms and surveyed Coruscant skyline. The endless lines of traffic moved lethargically across his field of vision, while the brilliant light of Coruscant's distant sun caught the near faces of the skyscrapers and made them shine. Reddish tinted clouds rolled by overhead, reflecting the light even more. The scene was at the same time breathtaking and peaceful. It was also an illusion.

_Something's going to happen._

Mace didn't know how he couldn't have seen it before. The Force was swirling around him like a hurricane, threatening to tear him from his high perch and sending him hurtling to the dark streets far below. The storm was cold, with cruel, biting winds that lashed at him with malice too intense to be spontaneous. This was calculated, this had been planned. This was an active threat, one that would be revealed very soon.

Mace sighed and turned away from the window to survey the empty Council Chamber. He was the only one to notice this sudden change. The other Masters had not said anything. Perhaps they had not thought it important. Or maybe they were just blind.

His eyes passed over the empty chairs one by one. This had been the smallest Council meeting he could remember. Yoda, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi Mundi, and Stass Alie had not been able to tear themselves away from their duties to attend, even by hologram. And Anakin, of course, had been suspended.

Mace paused at Anakin's chair. He had not heard from nor seen the young Jedi since their conversation in the situation room. It was no coincidence. Anakin had been avoiding the Jedi Temple. Over the past week he had only appeared only a few times, always briefly and never interacting with other Jedi. Those who had seen him had reported he seemed conflicted, tormented by an inner anguish that even long years of training could not hide. They had claimed that the Force swirled around the young Knight in ways that left them feeling confused and threatened. He seemed ready to explode with a violent burst of dark energy that would consume all of them.

Mace had a strong feeling that this energy was the same kind that he was feeling now. Whether or not it originated from Anakin, he could not say. But whatever great and terrible event was to come, Anakin would play a key role, either for good or ill. Of that he had no doubt.

His eyes slid two places over to Cin Drallig's chair. _Obi-Wan's_ chair. Mace stared hard at it. Even though he wanted desperately to believe otherwise, he had to acknowledge now that it was very likely Obi-Wan had not survived his attempt to bring General Grievous to justice. He would have found a way to return by now. Grievous, likewise, seemed to have vanished from the known galaxy. Mace formed a mental image of the two warriors locked in an embrace of death in some far corner of space. That would have been just like Obi-Wan, to sacrifice himself in order to ensure that the threat to the Republic and the Jedi was eliminated. Placing the lives of others before his own; the embodiment of Jedi virtue. That was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The quintessential Jedi. The valiant warrior. The dear friend. If he was now one with the Force, then each time someone touched it, they would feel him, and he would not be lost at all.

Mace closed his eyes and touched his forehead lightly, the symbol of universal honor and respect.

"Rest in peace, old friend."

He opened his eyes then turned to leave the Council chamber. He needed to assemble a few Masters to come with him and speak to Chancellor Palpatine, who had requested an update on Council proceedings. For a moment he paused, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. The feeling had returned, stronger and more threatening than before. It had no shatterpoint, no weakness that he could see. Mace knew that the Jedi were on a collision course with it. When the storm reached them, a conflict was inevitable. And whatever it was, the Jedi would have to face it alone.

* * *

Anakin moved his blue blade in an easy arc, intercepting the other lightsaber in the middle of its attack. He used the momentum of his swing to fuel a ferocious counter that ruined his sparring partner's recovery and sent her stumbling backward. The match's onlookers gasped in awe. 

Anakin slid his lightsaber under his opponent's guard, then with an easy flick of his wrist, disarmed her. His opponent fell to the mat, defenseless. Anakin placed the tip of his blade a centimeter from her neck, then deactivated it. Reaching down, he helped her to her feet.

Siri Tachi pushed some loose strands of her long blond hair out of her face. She summoned her lost weapon to her using the Force, then grinned at her former adversary and offered her hand. "Good match, Anakin."

Anakin shook her hand, forcing a grin on his own face. "You too."

"Come off it," Siri laughed. "You destroyed me. I never stood a chance."

"No, I'm serious," Anakin said. "It's been a while since someone gave me a run for my money."

Siri shook her head. "Same old Anakin, always trying to be the gentleman. Just admit that you crushed me and I'll be satisfied."

Anakin finally smiled naturally. "All right, all right! I crushed you."

Siri laughed again. "Glad we got that settled, because your next challenge is going to be a lot more difficult."

Before Anakin could respond, he was mobbed by a group of younglings.

"That was amazing, Master Skywalker!"

"Can you teach me to fight like that?"

"You're the best fighter ever!"

Anakin raised his hands. "Whoa, whoa! Easy now! I surrender! I can't hold off all of you!"

The younglings stopped their babbling and pulled back, embarrassed. Anakin looked at them all sternly, trying to hold back a grin. He failed.

The younglings immediately surrounded him once again. Anakin grabbed a young human girl, placed her on his shoulders, and began to spin around. The girl squealed in delight, her arms outstretched and her brown tresses flying. The other younglings danced around the two, hero worship shining in their eyes.

Finally, Anakin stopped spinning and set the girl down. The rest of the younglings all began calling for a turn.

Anakin waved them away. "Not now. I'm way too dizzy."

Siri stepped in and herded them away from Anakin. "All right, I think class is over. Let's let Master Skywalker have a little peace."

Anakin shook his head. "They can stay. I don't mind."

Siri smiled. "No, really, they need to be heading to their next lesson."

The younglings protested, but Siri ushered them through the door.

Anakin sat down on the mat and watched them go. There was something about the children that made him feel completely relaxed and at peace. Maybe it was their innocence, or their simple exuberance for life. His thoughts flashed to his nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, whom he had played with on Naboo. He wondered if he would be able to share such moments with his own child.

His light mood immediately darkened once again. His child … he didn't even know if his own child was going to live. Again and again he saw Padmé struggling to hold on, before finally succumbing to death, possibly taking their child with her and leaving him alone without knowledge or comfort. Anakin closed his eyes and willed the images to disappear. They didn't.

He had come to the sparring room looking for something to distract him from his current inner turmoil. He had intended to take ten of the advanced training droids and transform them into scrap, but the training room had been occupied by Master Tachi and her young class practice with training sabers and remotes. The normally reserved younglings had gone crazy at the sight of Anakin, and Siri, recognizing the futility of keeping their minds focused, had suggested that she and Anakin give an exhibition for the children's benefit.

Siri returned and sat down on the mat beside him. She stayed quiet, observing his face for a time, as though searching for a hidden answer there.

Anakin had known Siri Tachi for years, almost since he had first begun his training at the Jedi Temple. She was a lithe, athletic woman with long blonde hair and a winning smile, very attractive by anyone's standards. She had been a very good friend of Obi-Wan's; understandable since the two had grown up together, trained together, and accompanied their masters, Qui-Gon Jinn and Adi Gallia, on several joint missions. Obi-Wan had always said that she was fiercely independent, and that that attribute had led her into numerous clashes with her master. After one particularly heated argument, Siri had abandoned the Jedi Order and associated herself with slave traders, bounty hunters, and other despicable characters. Obi-Wan had been one of the key forces in bringing her back. Siri had been deeply loyal to Obi-Wan even before the fallout, but it had grown after her return. For a while, Anakin had suspected the two of harboring feelings for each other. Of course, neither had said anything, and now that Anakin knew about Obi-Wan's attachment to Sabé, he doubted that there had ever been anything between him and Siri but a deep friendship.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

Anakin opened his eyes to find Siri staring inquiringly at him. He didn't have to ask who she was talking about. He knew. "Yes."

Siri placed her hands on her knees and looked down at the floor. "I know that it's been very hard for you. I miss him too."

Anakin sighed. "I don't want to believe he's gone. But at the same time, I think part of me, the rational part, has already accepted it. It's been almost two months. No one's seen or heard anything. There's no closure, though. He didn't flare out. He didn't slide away. He just vanished."

Siri's mouth trembled slightly. "I saw him, the day before he left. He looked confident. He looked happy. I didn't have any doubt that he would succeed. So when he told me goodbye, I didn't actually think he meant … goodbye."

Anakin patted her on the shoulder. "He didn't. Whether he's dead or alive, he's still with us."

Siri nodded, blinking quickly. "I suppose you're right. He wouldn't abandon us. Not even if Grievous was too much for him."

Anakin's lip curled in contempt. "Grievous. We haven't heard from him for months. If Obi-Wan still had breath in his body, then the scum is dead. He probably died a coward, begging Obi-Wan for mercy."

Siri looked over at him in surprise. "Anakin! Obi-Wan wouldn't kill someone asking for mercy, no matter what crime they had committed."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't he? If it was his duty?"

Siri had no answer.

Anakin stood up. "I have to leave, Siri. I have somewhere I need to be. Thank you for the match, and I'm sorry I interrupted your lesson."

Siri nodded and stood up too. Anakin bowed and then headed for the door. Before he could reach it, it slid open.

The younglings were marched in, looking guilty and chastened. Behind them came three Jedi Masters: Kolar, Drallig, and Pablo-Jill.

"Master Tachi," Kolar said shortly. "We found these younglings wandering around outside. Their class shouldn't have ended yet. What's your explanation?"

Siri bowed hastily. "My apologies, Master. Anakin and I …"

Kolar's gaze swiveled to Anakin. "Ah, Knight Skywalker emerging from seclusion. No doubt you have a ready made explanation for disrupting the youngling's training."

Pablo-Jill's eyes bulged at the sight of Anakin, and he hastily tried to step back through the door. Anakin spotted him before he could make an escape.

"Ah, Master Jill. How's your neck feeling? Not too well, I hope."

The Ongree Master made a gurgling noise that might have indicated rage or terror, and shrank backward. Master Kolar shot him a look that conveyed a mixture of pity and disgust. He then turned back to Anakin. "Flagrant disrespect is not the way to get yourself out of trouble, Skywalker. You are lucky you were not expelled for what you did to Master Jill. Now, please answer my question."

Anakin smirked. "As matter of fact, Master Kolar, I have no ready made explanation. Excuses aren't really my thing. However, I suppose it's only natural for you to think I have one, since what you would do in my position."

Kolar's mouth opened in anger, but before he could chasten Anakin, Cin Drallig stepped between them.

"Enough! Not in front of the younglings! Anakin, it would go over a lot easier for you if you would just answer our question."

Anakin shrugged. "I came here to spar. Master Tachi was kind enough to oblige."

"You should see him, Master Drallig," the girl Anakin had spun piped up. "He's the best!"

Drallig's mouth twitched slightly. "Yes, he is very good. But what have we told you about interrupting when Masters are talking?"

The youngling fell back, chastened. Anakin gave her a reassuring smile, then turned back to Drallig. "If we're done …?"

"Wait," Drallig held up a hand. "Anakin, you have changed ever since your suspension from the Council. You are bitter and disrespectful, and have gone so far as to attack a Jedi Master. These are very dangerous emotions. While you may be upset about losing your seat, you must control your anger and give the proper respect. Anger is of the Darkside."

Anakin's face went hard. "I don't care about losing my seat. My discontent stems from something greater, an act that I never would have believed the Council to be capable of committing."

Master Drallig's face darkened. "If you're referring to Master Kenobi …"

"_Don't_," Anakin cut him off, "say his name. You're not worthy of it. And give the proper respect? Awfully hypocritical, isn't it?"

He brushed past Drallig and headed for the door, which was blocked by Kolar and Pablo-Jill. Anakin pulled up and stared coldly at them.

"I'm leaving, in case you weren't aware."

Pablo-Jill immediately scrambled out of the way. Kolar lingered in Anakin's path for a second longer, then relented and stepped aside. Anakin disappeared through the door without another word.

The three Jedi Masters stood in the sparring room for a moment, looking as though they had been turned to stone. Then, without another glance at Siri or the younglings, they filed out of the room after Anakin, while the younglings whispered in awe behind them.

* * *

Anakin unlocked the door to the apartment, then walked through it, letting it slide shut behind him. The apartment was dark, meaning that Padmé wasn't home yet. She probably wouldn't be for a while. 

A holoscreen was on, playing a recorded feed from the Senate Chamber. Mas Amedda, presiding over Congress in Chancellor Palpatine's absence, was giving a speech on reopening trade with some world that had been cut off from the Republic since the start of the war. After briefly scanning the crowd to see if he could spot Padmé, Anakin turned it off. He didn't want to listen to anymore political jargon.

Anakin collapsed on the couch. He didn't know why he felt so tired; the fight with Siri had not been that intense. Maybe it was build up from lack of sleep. Sleep certainly hadn't proved restful for him over the past few weeks.

He closed his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Padmé was struggling, crying out for him to help her. Anakin fought to reach her, but yet again he was unable to free himself from whatever it was that held him back. The dark figure was walking again, getting closer and closer, its weapon raised. Anakin tried to shield his wife from its advance but the figure marched right through him. It began to dissolve in shadows. For a moment, Anakin thought that Padmé was safe, but then she screamed again.

_Anakin … I'm sorry … I love you._

She was falling, her life force fading. Anakin reached for her, trying to use the Force to preserve her life, like Palpatine had shown him. For a moment, Padmé seemed to recover. Then she slipped away.

Anakin's eyes snapped open. He fought back the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had failed. Again. Even the power Palpatine had shown him was not enough. He wasn't yet adept enough at using it to save her.

If Palpatine were here, he could ask him why he still couldn't use the power, and request more training. But Palpatine wasn't on Coruscant. He was off with his family somewhere, and all Anakin could do was wait.

If only Padmé were here. These days, he never knew whether he should spend as much time as he could with her, to let her calm him in the way only she could, or to avoid her because every moment he spent with her was another reminder of how precariously her life hung in the balance. He knew Padmé was worried about him. His recent melancholy had made her extra protective of him, and it killed him to know that he was causing her even more grief.

He needed to meditate. He needed to escape from all this.

But just as he was clearing his mind, the door slid open again and Sabé appeared carrying a bundle and several papers. She frowned when she saw him sitting in the dark and adjusted the lights, filling the room with a warm glow. "You shouldn't be sitting here with no light, Anakin. It's gloomy."

Anakin smiled and stood up. "I was just resting my eyes."

"Sounds wonderful." Sabé set down her burdens and pulled off her hood, shaking her long brown hair free. "You're lucky that you have the time. I'd like to collapse on the nearest soft thing I can find."

Anakin indicated the sofa he had just vacated. "There you go."

Sabé laughed. "I'm tempted, but I have to get back to Padmé's office. And if she gets back, I'm sure that the two of you will want privacy. She said she had planned a special dinner with you."

Anakin frowned. "If?"

"Senate affairs are going to force her to stay at the office for later than she would have liked. Several hours later, it sounds like."

Anakin groaned. "Damn it."

"I know," Sabé said sympathetically. "You should she what she got. Shuura fruit, Nubian filets, candles, the works. I just picked it up." She nudged the bundle. "Of course, it'll go cold now, thanks to Chancellor Palpatine. He's flooding all the Senators with paperwork. I should go back and help."

Anakin looked up, startled. "Palpatine's back?"

"Yes," Sabé looked surprised. "Didn't you hear? He just got back a few hours ago. It's been on the news."

Anakin grabbed his cloak from the couch. "Tell Padmé that I'll be back late. And apologize about the dinner. It'll have to wait."

Sabé opened her mouth to say something, but Anakin pulled on his cloak and disappeared through the door, leaving her standing alone in the apartment.

"Would it kill him to ever explain anything?"

* * *

Chancellor Palpatine was sitting in his office, consulting a holoscreen that was projecting information about the Senate's earlier meeting. Anakin entered the room silently. He paused to look at the Nubian Angel's Tear blooming on the table. Something stirred in him, and he looked away. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Anakin looked up, and saw Palpatine had closed the holoscreen and was smiling at him broadly. Anakin returned the smile, though it felt slightly forced.

"Welcome back, Chancellor. How was your trip?"

"Better than I could have hoped for," Palpatine said. "I had forgotten how it felt just to be able to live and soak up life's little moments. Vadren had progressed so much, I scarcely recognized him. As my brother and his wife said, I couldn't have come at a better time. I actually got to be there for his graduation."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, my friend," Palpatine smiled. "What's even better is that he will be able to visit very soon. When I mentioned you, he got very excited; he's heard so much about you. I hope to introduce the two of you."

Anakin nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm glad," Palpatine said. "But enough about my trip. I wouldn't want to bore you. Come, tell me what's troubling you."

Anakin frowned. "How do you know something's troubling me?"

"I know you, Anakin. Despite your long years of training, I'm afraid that concealing your emotions is not your strongest attribute. Not that's bad at all. It makes you who you are, and since I spotted it, I will be able to help you."

Anakin debated with himself for a moment. He wasn't sure how to tell Palpatine about his worries without mentioning the vision. Palpatine was an astute man; it would look suspicious if he left too much out. The best approach was to be very direct with what he wanted to avoid questioning.

He spoke. "Chancellor, I'm having concerns about the power you taught me. I've tried to practice, but I can't get it to work like I did here. And I have a … feeling … that it's not going to be enough."

Palpatine studied him closely. "When you attempted to use the power, were you focused? Were you resolved to do whatever was necessary to ensure its success?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "Absolutely."

Palpatine drummed his fingers lightly on his desk. "Good. What about the power itself? How did you attempt to manifest it?"

Anakin frowned. "Chancellor?"

"What was your mindset? What emotions did you use to channel your power?"

Anakin tried to remember. Determination. Hope. Anguish. He had experienced all of those. Above all had been desperation, trying to protect his love from her doom. But he couldn't tell Palpatine that.

"I felt … urgency. I was about to lose something very important to me, and I wanted it to be preserved."

A knowing look came onto Palpatine's face. "Ah. So you acted out of compassion, and love. You used the light side."

"Well …" Anakin admitted, "Yes."

Palpatine stood up and walked over to Anakin. "And therein, Anakin, lies your problem. I told you that you needed to use your anger. It is not the natural order of life to respond to compassion. We as civilized people know its virtue, but the midi-chlorians do not. If you are not forceful with them, if you do not unleash your true power and force them to submit, they will ignore you."

Anakin recalled Palpatine telling him much the same thing when he had first learned the power. His reservations about using his anger had nearly cost him dearly. He couldn't afford for it to happen again. "I'm sorry, Chancellor. I should have remembered."

Palpatine clapped him on the back. "No matter. As I said before, you will learn. You already know what you have to do. From what I have seen, you have already begun to do it. You have shaken off many of the bonds that the Jedi Council has placed on you."

Anakin wasn't sure how to respond to the praise. He certainly had no qualms about breaking away from the Council. However, something wasn't right about the direction Palpatine was taking their conversation.

"You know, I'm very proud of you, Anakin," Palpatine said seriously. "You are a great hero of the Republic, but unlike other heroes, you do not let your mind become clouded by the interferences of those who seek to use you. Indeed, you have recognized a threat to yourself, and distanced yourself from it. Such action is necessary in one destined for greatness."

"Thank you, Chancellor."

"However, you are still in danger. The ones you love are still in danger. I can help you."

Anakin studied the Chancellor carefully. "How?"

Palpatine smiled at him like a father would at his favorite son. "You know how to use the power of life. Your skills are at their pinnacle, unmatched by any around you. All you need to learn to be truly invincible is how to embrace your potential to its fullest. You have let your anger out in brief intervals before now. Now, the time has come to unleash it all. Let me show you how."

Anakin tensed, but he did not pull away. "The Jedi do not condone such things."

"But you do," Palpatine said. "That makes you the wiser. They don't trust you, Anakin. They see your future. They know your power will be too strong to control. Anakin, you must break through the fog of lies the Jedi have created around you. Let me help you to know the subtleties of the Force."

He placed a hand on Anakin's shoulders and guided him down a short hallway into a long room with a strange mural on the wall. Anakin's combat sense began to prickle. Something was wrong.

"How do you know the ways of the Force?" he asked.

Palpatine smiled slightly. "My mentor taught me everything about the Force . . . even the nature of the dark side."

Anakin stopped abruptly. Palpatine stopped too, looking at him intensely. The Force was screaming at Anakin now. He had always known, he supposed, but it had never really registered until this moment.

"You know the dark side?"

"Anakin," Palpatine said imploringly, "if one is to understand the great mystery, one must study all its aspects, not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi. If you wish to become a complete and wise leader, you must embrace a larger view of the Force. Be careful of the Jedi, Anakin." He paused. "They fear you. In time they will destroy you. Let me train you."

Anakin stared him down. "This is more than just wanting to help me, isn't it? I won't be a pawn in your political game, Chancellor. The Jedi are my family."

"Does your family betray you, Anakin? Sell out its members to befit their own gain. You are above such filth. Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi. Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife … from certain death."

Anakin stepped away, staring with a mixture of shock and anger at Palpatine's leering face.

"_What did you say?_" he hissed.

Palpatine's face became that of a concerned parent. "Use my knowledge, I beg you …"

Anakin pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, holding the deadly blue tip inches from Palpatine's face. "_You're_ the Sith Lord!"

Palpatine did not back down. "I know what has been troubling you … Listen to me. Don't continue to be a pawn of the Jedi Council! Ever since I've known you, you've been searching for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi … a life of significance, of conscience."

Anakin's hand trembled as he held the blade to Palpatine's throat. The newly revealed Sith Lord showed no fear, but instead circled around Anakin, then turned towards the opposite door. Anakin leveled his saber so that it almost touched the base of Palpatine's neck.

"Are you going to kill me, Anakin?" Palpatine asked, only the slightest hint of tension present in his voice.

Anakin's voice shook as he snarled, "I would certainly like to!"

Palpatine closed his eyes. "I know you would," he hissed slowly. "I can _feel_ your _anger_. It gives you focus, makes you stronger!"

He turned back around to face Anakin, who immediately placed his blade back at the Chancellor's throat. "What are you going to do, Anakin? Who else can help you? Are you willing to risk your wife's life to kill a man who can help you save her?"

There was a moment so tense that it felt like all the air in the room had turned to stone. Anakin's blue eyes bored hard into Palpatine's grey ones, which stared right back at him. Then deadly resolve evaporated. Anakin lowered his gaze and deactivated his lightsaber. "No. No I'm not."

Palpatine smiled. "What will you do then, my friend?"

Anakin stepped back. "I should turn you over to the Jedi Council."

"Of course you should," Palpatine said calmly. "But will you? You're not sure of their intentions, are you?"

Anakin turned away. "No."

"They keep their agenda hidden from you," Palpatine told him. "But they cannot hide it from me. They plan to betray you, just as they betrayed your former master. Once you are eliminated, nothing will stand in the way of their plan to take control of the Republic."

Anakin faced him again. "I will quickly discover the truth of all this."

Palpatine nodded in encouraging approval. "You have great wisdom, Anakin. Know the power of the dark side. The power to save Padmé."

Anakin stared at the Chancellor for a moment, trying to keep his surging emotions under control. No phrase could ever hit him more powerfully than that.

Palpatine turned and headed back towards his office. Anakin watched him go, feeling like he was committing a serious mistake, but at the same time, one he would not correct. At the doorway, Palpatine turned to face him again.

"You needn't worry, I am not going anywhere. You have time to decide my fate. Perhaps you'll reconsider and help me rule the galaxy for the good of all."

He sat down behind his desk and watched Anakin leave the office. The power to control the entire galaxy rested just beyond his fingertips. All he needed was to complete one more maneuver, and he would have his enemies ensnared.

"Soon," he mouthed to himself. "Soon."

* * *


	24. A Change of Plans

Hey everyone! I'm busy right now, so I can't reply to your reviews, but I will do it as soon as time allows. In the meantime, enjoy the next post!**

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**Chapter 24**

Light blinded him when he first opened his eyes. Cold, hard, unforgiving light. He immediately shut his eyes again. He was not ready for such a searing jolt of reality.

As he lay there, feeling began to return to his extremities. Not pleasant feelings, by any means, mainly lingering pain and built up tension from some earlier skirmish. Yet with it came a sense of real strength. After savoring the feeling for a moment, he opened his eyes again.

This time, the light did not blind him. He pulled himself into a sitting position and observed the room. He was in a medical facility. The walls and ceiling were black and strangely smoothed with non-human architecture. It was certainly like no medical facility he had ever seen, strangely alien in design. Rows of white linen beds identical to the one on which he now sat stretched in both directions. His however, was the only one that was surrounded by monitors and carts loaded with various implements, from sharp scalpels to bags of colored fluid. He looked down at his arm and saw that one of these bags was connected to a long plastic tube that was implanted in his arm, sending a steady stream of the fluid into his bloodstream.

He pulled the tube out of his arm and stood up. His legs were unsteady for a moment, but after he took a few steps they bore his weight easily. The patient scanned the room once more. He was alone. No doctors or nurses in sight. Odd.

He tried to recall how he had gotten here. All he could remember was that he had been in a fight, in which he had been seriously injured. But despite the injury, he had emerged victorious. He had lived, and his opponent, whoever it had been, had died. That simple fact gave him immense pleasure.

There was a mirror on a nearby table. He picked it up and examined his reflection. The face stared back through steel blue eyes. His hair and well-kept beard were a light auburn shade. A few small scars crossed his forehead and chin. The most distinctive feature, however, was a long scar that he didn't recall having before. It ran from the tip of his left eyebrow down across his cheek to terminate just before disappearing into his beard. The scar was clean, but was clearly fresh. He must have sustained it in his recent fight.

He set the mirror down. Seeing his face had triggered a partial recall. He remembered that he had been a prisoner here recently, but with the help of a powerful man he had escaped to take vengeance on his tormentor. General Grievous, the cyborg killer, commander of the Separatist Droid armies was no more. The man clenched his fists as memories of the fight returned to him. He saw the General ripped open and pinned against the wall. He saw the immense fire that had consumed his enemy at last. He saw himself, blood dripping from his mouth, kneeling before a cloaked man who raised his hands and pronounced a name to the ceiling, which he could not hear. What was his name? His heart produced an answer. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_No!_ The answer was crushed by the rest of his mind. _That was your name. It is not any longer._

"Up at last, My Lord?"

He whirled around to face the unexpected voice. A tall, dark cloaked man in a hood was standing right behind him with his arms crossed. He seemed utterly relaxed, but despite this vibe, the patient tensed. He sensed a deadly aura of confidence around this man, one that would make him a dangerous opponent if he chose to attack.

"No need for that, My Lord," the mysterious man said, sounding faintly amused. "I suggest that you relax. Despite your admirable constitution, you don't want to strain yourself too much at the moment."

The patient slid out of his defensive position, but kept his eyes fixed on the newcomer. "Where am I?"

"You are in a secured medical facility at an undisclosed location on the planet Coruscant," the cloaked man said, still sounding amused. "Lord Sidious's private clinic, in fact. You were brought here in critical condition with a serious chest wound, and I have been busy treating you ever since."

The patient frowned. "You're a doctor?"

"I wouldn't say that," the man said. "My profession does not fall under such limiting guidelines. But I have some medical training, yes."

He uncrossed his arms and lifted his hood. The patient took an involuntary step back. The man wasn't human. He had deep blue skin and black hair, and stared at him with sinister, glowing red eyes.

"I apologize, My Lord," the alien said coolly. "Perhaps I should have warned you."

"That's all right." The patient decided to keep pressing this man for information. Maybe that would help him get a better handle on the situation.

"You mentioned that I was seriously injured. What exactly befell me?"

"You took a high energy lightsaber blade directly through your chest. It punctured your right lung and destabilized the pressure in your chest cavity. By the time your master got you here, you had stopped breathing and were, for all intents and purposes, dead. Yet somehow, you held on and began to respond to the treatments."

He paused. "I was able to salvage enough of your lung to keep you alive, but not enough to keep it functioning. Most of it has been replaced with an internal mechanical respirator that regulates your breathing. For a while, Lord Sidious felt that you would need a much more extensive life support system, but I was able to convince him that, at least for now, that is unnecessary. It's remarkable, considering that few sentinent beings in this galaxy could take a lightsaber in the chest and live. If I may say so, you have strength of will the likes of which I have never seen, Lord Vader."

_Vader._

With that name, the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. His capture, his torture, his escape, the training, the recovery mission, and the final battle all returned to him in perfect clarity. With this recognition came a surge of power that filled him like hot magma. He reached inside his white medical shirt and felt the jagged scar where Grievous had stabbed him. It was true. He was Darth Vader.

"Well, my friend," he said, withdrawing his hand from the wound. "I suppose I owe you my life. Thank you."

The alien shook his head. "My Lord, you owe me nothing."

"All the same, I thank you." Vader inclined his head. "What is your name?"

The alien bowed. "Lieutenant Commander Mirthrada Nurrodo, at your service."

Vader extended a hand. Nurrodo hesitated for a moment, then stretched out his own and shook it quickly.

"A pleasure," Vader said calmly. "Commander Nurrodo, do you know the whereabouts of my Master?"

"Lord Sidious left the base roughly twelve standard hours ago, Lord Vader. He had to return to his government position."

Vader frowned. "What government position?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Vader considered pressing further, but decided against it. His master likely had a very good reason for not telling him his exact position in the Republic government. If the Jedi were ever to recapture him, they could pry the knowledge out of him.

"Did he leave any instructions for me?"

"No, My Lord. He said he will contact you later. I believe he did not anticipate that you would recover so quickly. I would suggest more bed rest, but since you appear to be fully recovered, why don't I take you to your accommodations?"

Vader nodded in approval. "Lead on."

Nurrodo turned and swept off towards the door at a brisk pace, cloak swirling behind him. Vader followed. They went through a set of heavy pressure doors, and emerged in a dimly lit room lined with lockers. Nurrodo stepped to the nearest one and unlocked it, pulling out several black articles of clothing; a pair of sleek pants, shirt, vest, boots, and cloak. He passed them to Vader. "Your attire, My Lord. There are more sets in your room."

Vader took them and ran his fingers over the material. It was cool to the touch, and very sturdy. It felt more like a flexible suit of armor than a simple tunic.

"Cortosis weave, My Lord. Strong enough to stop all but the most direct lightsaber attack."

Vader looked up. "Commander, why are you addressing me with that title?"

"I address you only in such way as befits a Dark Lord of the Sith."

A strange feeling spread throughout Vader's body. So that was what he had become. A Sith Lord, sworn enemy of the Jedi and all that he in his past life had stood for. Long ago, he had vowed to destroy the Sith in order to protect the Republic. Now, in order to save it, he had joined them.

Fate certainly brought about some ironic twists.

He quickly took off his medical wear and pulled on the shirt, pants, and boots, tightened the vest, then draped the cloak over his shoulders. The room darkened noticeably as he felt shadows beginning to swirl around him. It was almost a reflexive response. He did not shun them. Instead he examined himself in the face of one of the lockers. Just the simple act of pulling on the dark mantle seemed to have changed him; his face now looked cold and unforgiving, with a hard expression amplified by the jagged scar marring the left side of his face. In a flash, he remembered that Anakin bore a very similar scar on the right side of his face, a mark from his battle with Asajj Ventress. One more way that he and Anakin mirrored one another.

He turned back to face Nurrodo. The alien produced something else from inside his own cloak and handed it to him. His old lightsaber. Vader took it and turned it over in his hands.

"Your weapon, recovered from the battle with General Grievous," Nurrodo said. "Lord Sidious bade me offer you a synthetic red crystal to modify it, should you desire one."

Vader shook his head. "No. The weapon I bore as a Jedi will suit my purpose perfectly. It will be a symbol of the betrayal I experienced, and serve as the fire with which I will exact my vengeance."

He ignited the saber, and a brilliant blue glow lanced through the shadows that had darkened his face. He spun it once, and the eerie light reflecting off the locker's surface, merging with the darkness to form a strange cloud. Vader's mouth curled upward in a savage smile as he moved the blade through a complex series of motions, finally driving it into the locker from which he had taken his mantle. The metal sizzled and hissed as he held it there, finally melting into molten stream that slid to the floor like a lava fall. Vader pulled his blade free and stepped through the fire. "My enemies will learn to fear the wrath I will unleash."

For the first time, Nurrodo smiled. "I agree. Heaven help the Jedi."

* * *

Mace was in the tactical room, consulting the latest reports from Mygeeto and Kashyyyk when Agen Kolar, Saesee Tiin, Cin Drallig filed into the room. They were quickly followed by Shaak Ti and Kit Fisto. Mace looked up. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Agen Kolar crossed his arms. "Not at all, Master Windu. But if I may ask, why have we been summoned? Surely we covered everything at the Council meeting."

"We did," Mace said. "But I have just received a message from Chancellor Palpatine. He is requesting that we meet him to give him an update."

Kolar frowned. "Is he not up to date with all the latest news from the front? He doesn't need us for that."

"Since Jedi are commanding most of the engagements, he would like our perspective," Mace informed them. "But his more pressing reason is that he wants a report on this afternoon's Council meeting."

Saesee Tiin looked less than thrilled. "Of course, his amendment. So he's requesting a representative?"

"Yes," Mace said. "More than one, preferably."

"Well, he has his designated representative," Drallig said. "Why does he want all of us?"

"He appointed Skywalker as his designated representative," Mace smiled bitterly. "And since Anakin has been suspended, he can hardly give accurate testimony, can he?"

Drallig nodded. "Of course not."

"Well, then the job falls to us," Mace turned back to the display and picked up a stack of datapads. "A few of us will go, make a brief report to the Chancellor, then return." He frowned as he scanned the assembled masters. "If I may ask, where is Master Pablo-Jill?"

Kolar looked uncomfortable. "He had a … setback … on the way here. He's in the medical wing now."

"I see." Mace didn't ask. He had a feeling he didn't want to know. "Are there any volunteers?"

Kit Fisto stepped forward. "I'll go."

No one else stepped forward for a moment, then Saesee Tiin nodded. "So will I."

Drallig frowned. "Why don't all of us go?"

Mace shook his head. "No. I sense a disturbance in the Force; something threatening is coming our way. We need to be ready, and someone needs to stay with the younglings."

"I will," Shaak Ti volunteered.

"Good," Mace nodded approvingly. "Cin, you stay as well. I'm placing you in charge of the Temple until we return."

Drallig bowed respectfully. "As you wish, Master Windu."

"Agen, you'll come with us."

Kolar didn't look thrilled, but he nevertheless bowed in turn. "Very well."

"All right, you are dismissed," Mace told them. "Master Ti and Master Drallig, kindly inform the other Masters of our plans. The rest of you, we'll meet in the upper landing bay in half an hour. Agreed?"

The other Council members murmured their assent. Then one by one, they filed out of the room.

* * *

While Anakin was renowned all over the galaxy for his fighting skills, he was just as well known, if not as publicized, for his ability to make quick and effective decisions. Though who had served with him in the war and knew him best knew that in addition to being a master swordsman and the best pilot in the galaxy, he was also a brilliant tactician. Even during the most heated moment of a battle, he could absorb all the necessary information, factor in and weigh possible scenarios, then make the best decision that would serve to devastate his enemies and protect his friends. The decision was always made quickly and acted upon immediately, winning uncounted victories for the Republic. His troops knew that no matter how grievous the situation, no matter how bleak the outlook, they could always count on Anakin Skywalker to make the right decision to save them all.

They would not have recognized that man now.

Never in his life had Anakin been so conflicted. The staggering truth revealed to him by the Chancellor was proving more than even he could handle. The possible consequences of his choice were making his mind and heart sear with pain as the fought each other, tearing him in two.

He couldn't believe he hadn't seen this. Chancellor Palpatine, his good friend and trusted mentor, was Darth Sidious, his perpetual antagonist and sworn enemy. Total opposites had become one, blending together Anakin's sense of good and evil, right and wrong until now, he didn't have a clue which direction to turn.

If he followed his logical reasoning, then he would go immediately to the Jedi Council, despite his utter contempt for them at the moment, and report his findings. The Council would then send a team of Jedi to apprehend Palpatine. The Dark Lord would either kill the entire Council, after which point he would know that Anakin had betrayed him, or the Council would subdue him. If Palpatine, no … Sidious, was not killed in the act, he would be imprisoned, tried, and likely executed for treason. Then his remaining secrets to the power to preserve life would die unheard. He, Anakin, would be hailed as a hero of the Republic for unmasking the Sith Lord. The Jedi Council would reinstate him. The Prophecy would be fulfilled. Life in the galaxy would return to some semblance of peace.

And Padmé would die.

What if, on the other hand, he took Palpatine up on his offer? His power would immediately become vast and ultimate. The Jedi Order would crumble before his and Sidious's combined might. The remaining Separatists would be crushed. The Republic would be saved, and likewise hail him as an even greater hero. Then it would be remade according to his vision, with corruption eliminated, and justice returned. Sidious, grateful for his aid, would take him as an apprentice and impart to him the knowledge he needed to control the power he had taught him. Padmé would be saved, their child would grow up, and be raised as heir to the galaxy.

Yet in realizing his goals, he would become a demon, a dark fiend like the one that stalked his visions. The dark side would twist his soul, and Anakin Skywalker would cease to exist.

His final option was to remain silent. Do nothing. Deny his destiny. Eventually the truth would leak out, and the Jedi would clash with Palpatine. One side would defeat the other, setting into motion the chain of events he had previously considered. He took take his wife and their child to some distant faraway planet, and there they could live out their days in peace, free of all responsibility.

And full of guilt, he realized. He cared about what happened to the trillions of people who lived in the galaxy. Neither he nor Padmé would be able to stand sitting idly by while the galaxy tore itself apart.

So running was not an option. That left him only one course of action: make a choice.

Anakin buried his face in his hands. He wished there was someone he could talk to, but there was no one. Obi-Wan was gone. Padmé wasn't there. At this point, he didn't know whether or not he could trust the Chancellor or anyone on the Council. For the first time in his life, he was utterly alone.

What if Palpatine was right and the Jedi Council was planning to take over the Republic? Going to them would destroy any chance to oppose them if they had malicious intentions. At the same time, the Chancellor's motives were not clear. He wanted to rule, that much was clear. But did he want to rule for himself, or for the people of the galaxy?

Anakin found that he didn't care. His overriding concern was Padmé's welfare. If he could guarantee that she would live, then the rest of the galaxy could go to hell. If he knew he could protect her, then who he fought to do it, Jedi or Sith, was unimportant. But in his visions, he had not been able to protect her. The man who menaced her was clearly dark. But he also bore the weapon of a Jedi. What did that imply? Which path would lead him to battle with this demon? And what did he have to do to protect his angel? For Anakin knew that if he lost her, then his soul would die. What would remain was an empty shell of a man full of nothing but fiery hate that would tear the galaxy apart in his quest for vengeance.

Anakin did not know how long he had sat in this deserted corridor of the Senate Office Building. Sunset was approaching, and as each shade of color in the sky grew darker, so did his mood and his hopes.

What if there was a way to ensure Palpatine's survival? If he could make sure that Palpatine did not die in the attempt to capture him, then there would be time to weigh his options further. He could question the Dark Lord in captivity, force him to give up his secrets in exchange for protection against the death penalty. Then, once Padmé was safe, he could try to get Palpatine clemency, and have him exiled to some remote Outer Rim world where he could do no harm.

It was a start, he supposed. Should the choice prove the wrong one, and he discovered evidence of treachery by the Council, it would not be irreversible. He could break Palpatine out of prison, and join forces with him then. As long as he could keep Padmé alive till then, he would have options, as well as leverage on the Dark Lord, which he would need if he were to save his wife.

Anakin finally stood up. He was by no means sure of his decision, but he was a man of action, and each moment he waited lessened his control over the situation. If he took a few steps into the unknown void that yawned before him, maybe the Force would show him the right path.

* * *

Mace pulled out his comlik and activated it. "Lieutenant, is the gunship ready yet?"

"All systems have been primed and given the green, General," the pilot informed him. "As soon as the other Masters arrive and I finish the preflight check, we'll be ready to go."

Mace nodded. "Good. Windu out."

Masters Kolar, Fisto, and Tiin, emerged from the elevator at the far end of the hanger bay and approached Mace. Mace greeted them. "We're all set. Get on board and we'll go."

Kolar surveyed the transport. "Did you notify the Chancellor that we are on our way?"

Mace shook his head. "No, he isn't expecting us for another twenty minutes. But I don't want to give him too much warning. We need to catch him at least slightly off guard."

Master Fisto frowned. "Off guard?"

"Look," Mace told them. "The Army hasn't had any sign of General Grievous for almost two months. The Senate is uneasy and unstable. They don't know what to think anymore, but they are tired of this war. Palpatine needs a scapegoat, so he is using us."

"What about Grievous?"

"I know Grievous is a coward, but if he cares anything about the Separatist war effort, he would have surfaced by now, because without him, surrender in a few months is inevitable. It's likely that he's dead. Therefore, if we can build a strong enough case, we might be able to convince Palpatine to give up at least some of his emergency powers."

Tin looked uneasy. "Are you suggesting intimidation?"

"No," Mace smiled dangerously. "I am suggesting negotiations."

Kolar shook his head. "This is dangerous."

Mace turned serious. "So is letting Palpatine have absolute power during peacetime."

None of the Masters seemed to object to this statement. Mace jerked his head towards the gunship. "Get on board. I'll join you shortly."

The Masters bowed and climbed onto the gunship. Mace dug out his comlik again.

"Cin?"

"Yes, Master Windu?"

"Is everything complete?"

"Master Ti and I have just informed all the Masters in the Temple."

"Good. Then we'll see you shortly."

"May the Force be with you, Mace."

"And with you as well."

Mace placed his comlik back on his belt next to his lightsaber and headed for the gunship.

"Master Windu!"

Mace turned to see Anakin hurrying across the hanger towards him.

"Anakin! Where have you been?"

Anakin pulled up next to him. "The Chancellor's office. I must talk to you."

Mace started walking again, and Anakin fell into step with him. "What is it, Anakin? We are in a hurry. The Chancellor has requested a report from the Council. We are on our way to fill him in and try and persuade him to return some emergency powers back to the Senate."

Anakin shook his head. "He won't give up his power. I've just learned the terrible truth. I think Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord."

Mace stopped dead in his tracks. "_A Sith Lord?_"

"Yes. The one we've been looking for."

"How do you know this?"

"He knows the ways of the Force. He has been trained to use the dark side."

Mace stared hard at Anakin. "Anakin, are you _sure_?"

Anakin looked Mace directly in the eye. "Absolutely."

"Then our worst fears have been realized," Mace let out a deep breath. "We must move quickly if the Jedi Order is to survive."

They started walking again, and Anakin braced himself. "Master, the Chancellor is very powerful. You will need my help if you are going to arrest him."

Mace stopped and thought hard. Anakin was without a doubt one of the Jedi's strongest fighters. He had more experience fighting the Sith than any other Jedi present. There was no doubt that he would be a great asset against Palpatine if a conflict erupted. This was his chance. His chance to fulfill the Prophecy and restore balance to the Force.

But conflict swirled in the young Jedi. Mace could sense that he was in deep, deep turmoil. He sensed the same dark winds that he had felt in the Council chamber flowing through Anakin. He was unsure of himself, he was confused, and worst of all, he was afraid.

Palpatine could exploit this. If he took Anakin up against the Sith Lord, Palpatine could bring Anakin's inner conflict to the surface. He knew that Anakin had an immensely strong will, but even he could only endure so much, and Palpatine had already succeeded in planting his poison in the boy. The right trigger from him could force Anakin to turn on his comrades, or even destroy himself.

Mace could not allow that to happen. Even if Anakin was the Chosen One, he was also a Jedi. That made him Mace's responsibility. Mace would never forgive himself if he took Anakin into danger, and he lost himself to the dark side. That would spell doom for him, the rest of the Jedi, and potentially the entire galaxy as well. It wasn't a question of destiny. It was a question of safety, both physical and spiritual, for all involved.

"I sense a great deal of confusion in you, Anakin. There is much fear that clouds your judgment. I know that you are one of our most skilled fighters, but this conflict will take place on a level that will be treacherous to everyone involved. You most of all. For your own good, I think it best that you stay here."

"I _must_ go, Master," Anakin said adamantly.

Mace considered the Anakin's tone, surprised. The young Knight sounded much more passionate about the situation than just being left out of a fight. There was something deeper, some dark secret that Anakin was hiding from him, from them all.

"Is there something else you want to tell me, Anakin?"

Anakin hesitated, clearly torn. But then he said firmly, "No, Master. Nothing. But I have to come."

This was another, even more dangerous variable to consider. Anakin was deeply worried about something. Palpatine had somehow gotten a hold of it and twisted it. Anakin was trying to stay strong, but Mace could see that the dark forces that had already entered him were stirring. As they gained intensity, they gained power, which was crackling before him like a supernova. It couldn't be controlled, it was only a matter of time before it was released. And if was released at the wrong moment, it would consume him utterly. Mace wanted desperately to help the tormented young man, but he couldn't. All he could do for the moment was shield him. From himself.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. It's not safe."

Anakin face became angry. "Are you saying that I can't be trusted?"

"No!" Mace placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder and looked him directly in the eye. "Please try to understand. Whether you know it or not, Chancellor Palpatine's hold on you is very strong. He will use this against you. If you confront him full of anger and fear, he will be able to subvert you, turn you into another version of himself: dark, deceitful, and cruel. If you are to face him, you must be at peace with yourself. Otherwise you will be lost."

Resentment and confusion boiled behind Anakin's steely blue gaze. For a moment, Mace thought he was going to violently object. Then Anakin looked away.

"Very well, Master."

Mace took his hand off of Anakin's shoulder. "Good. Wait for us in the Council chamber until we return."

"Yes, Master."

Mace turned and boarded the gunship. The pilot fired up the repulsorlifts, and the ship rose into the sky. Anakin stood stock still, watching them depart into the glowing sky, his expression unfathomable. Then with a swish of his cloak, he turned his back and left the hanger bay.

* * *

In the gunship, Mace faced his fellow Masters. "Gentlemen, there's been a change of plans."

Kit Fisto frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We're not going to talk with the Chancellor. We're going to arrest him."

Agen Kolar stepped back. "What? That's treason! We have no just cause."

"It's the Chancellor who is the traitor," Mace informed them. "He's a Sith Lord."

Kolar took another step back and nearly fell out of the open gunship door. "What! How is this possible? _The_ Sith Lord?"

"Yes," Mace said bitterly. "_The_ Sith Lord. The Master. The one we've been looking for. Darth Sidious."

Kolar collapsed on a troop bench. "Unbelievable. And yet, it fits. All of it." He slammed his fist on the seat. "How could we have made such a fatal mistake?"

"I don't know," Mace said grimly. "But we're going to correct it."

He activated his comlik. "Lieutenant, take us to the executive landing pad of the Senate Office Building. Red clearance. Do not stop for anything."

"Yes, sir."

Mace turned his comlik off. "Palpatine is expecting us, but if we get there quickly we can achieve at least an element of surprise."

"We were blind," Saesee Tiin murmered. "Everything we did played right into his hands. We have let him become a dictator."

"The damage is not yet irrecoverable," Mace said bracingly. "A dead man cannot destroy the Republic."

Kolar looked up, stunned. "You want to kill him?"

Mace shook his head. "He may not serve democracy, but we do. I want him to be tried. At the same time, if he refuses to come quietly, I intend to do whatever is necessary to ensure the Republic survives."

He looked at each of the Masters in turn. "Whatever is happening now, Palpatine is the shatterpoint. If we can stop him, we might be able to save what we have sworn to protect. If we fail, his poison will infect us all."

Master Kolar stood up, looking resolved. "We will not fail. Not with so much at stake."

Mace nodded in approval. "Together, comrades, for one and all. May the Force be with us!"

His sentiment was echoed by the others.

A look of deadly determination appeared on Mace's face as he approached the open door of the gunship. With one hand he grasped the edge of the sliding panel, with the other he drew his lightsaber, running his fingers over its familiar scarred surface. He allowed the warrior spirit he channeled to fill his veins as he surveyed the darkening sky. The moment he had been anticipating had arrived.

* * *


	25. Anakin's Choice

I'm sorry to say that I still don't have time for individual replies, but I will work to get those up for the next chapter. In the meantime, enjoy this post!

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* * *

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**Chapter 25**

_Why did you let them go?_

As Anakin ascended the long winding staircase towards the Council Chamber, the question dominated his thoughts. It had taken him a long time to come to the decision to go to the Council, and when he had reached it he had felt reasonably confident in his decision. He had felt that he would have at least some control over the situation had he gone along with the party to apprehend the Chancellor. But despite his resolve, he had listened to Master Windu and headed for the Jedi Council Chamber to wait. Though he was climbing towards the highest spire of one of the grandest buildings on Coruscant, Anakin felt more like he was ascending towards a high precipice from which he could throw himself into the blackest pit of hell.

He was not conscious of the time it was taking him to get up the stairs. He had chosen the route instead of the turbolift because of its isolation. He didn't want to see another Jedi. He just wanted to be alone so that he could clear his mind and try to make peace with what he had decided to do. Except that he was not finding any peace. The path ahead of him felt as dark as the hole in his own heart.

Finally, he reached the top, a barren landing with only a few turbolifts and a door leading to the Council Chamber. Anakin unlocked the door and entered the deserted room. He crossed over to his chair and sat down.

It could still turn out all right, he told himself. Mace, despite being one of the most warlike Jedi, was dedicated to the ideals of peace and due justice. He would not want to kill Palpatine unless he was absolutely certain that he had no other choice. Besides, even if he was caught up in the bloodthirsty rush of Vaapad, the other Masters be there to pull him back. Wouldn't they? All they Jedi revered life, and even the life of a Sith Lord would not be unjustly taken.

_Are you sure?_ A dark voice whispered to him, a voice he recognized as his own. _They let Obi-Wan die, remember. They abandoned their so-called principles then. How do you know that they can be trusted this time, with their sworn enemy?_

Anakin wanted to ignore the voice. He wanted to believe that there was still some shred of justice in the corrupt mass of the Jedi. He wanted to hold onto those bonds of trust he had cherished. But he couldn't.

Those feelings, he realized, had died with Obi-Wan.

Even Mace, who he had truly begun to respect these past few months, was tainted by the stain, the disease that had started in this room where he now sat and worked its way down to the lowest levels of the Temple. Even the younglings, who seemed to innocent and pure, were affected by this poison. Sooner or later, as they grew and matured into the next generation of Jedi, their young minds would be twisted to serve the hypocritical dogma that the Council now preached. Then they would go on to teach the same to their Padawans, and the Jedi Order would continue to crumble until one day, the slightest attack would cause it to collapse in a heap of memories and broken vows. He sat now in the heart of the corruption, its place of genesis where it had all began. And he, Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, could do nothing.

Another voice broke into his thoughts. This one was not his own, but Palpatine's.

_You do know, don't you? If the Jedi destroy me, any chance of saving her will be lost._

Anakin stood up and crossed over to the window. The sun was setting behind he clouds, creating a fiery nebula that bathed the surface of Coruscant in a golden light. The scene was beautiful, yet sad. Far off in the distance, just barely visible while silhouetted against the dying sun was the lonely structure of Five Hundred Replica. His true home. The place where Padmé was.

Anakin closed his eyes and let the Force fill him, transporting himself to that place he wanted to be right now with every fiber of his being. The Council Chamber faded. Anakin opened his eyes and found himself looking at his deserted apartment.

Every corner of the apartment screamed of Padmé. There was the sofa that the two of them had sat on, sharing rare peaceful moments in each other's arms. Through the door was the bed in which they had laid together so recently, but which seemed an eternity away. There was the table were they had shared quiet dinners, not speaking a great deal, and not needing to. Each knew what the other meant in a way that was deeper than words, deeper than anything.

Then the door slid open and two women entered. One was Sabé, her hood up, but easily recognizable. And other … the other was Padmé.

Anakin's breath immediately caught in his throat. She looked stunning. Her long dark brown hair was loose, the way he preferred it. Each of her waves and curls was lovingly maintained and in perfect position. Her senatorial gown was elegant, yet simple, just like her, and fit her perfectly. The sunlight caught her face and her deep brown eyes in a way that made them shine with heavenly radiance.

Anakin wanted so badly to run to her, take her in his arms, and whisk her away to Naboo, to Alderaan, to anywhere but here. But he couldn't. His wife was kilometers away, and though his heart was with her, it could not do his bidding.

Sabé said something to Padmé quietly and indicated the bundle she had left on the counter. Padmé's face fell slightly, then she said something to Sabé. The other woman touched her arm gently and then withdrew.

Padmé made her way to the couch and sat down, staring ahead of her with a distant look in her eyes. Anakin placed herself next to her, so close that he could reach out and touch her. But his hand slid through her hair without leaving a trace.

Padmé turned her head, and suddenly Anakin was looking right into her eyes, and she into his. His heart quickened, and his mouth went dry. Their faces were centimeters apart. He could see her lips and smell her sweet breath. But he could not feel them. Padmé sighed in that way that he loved, when he knew something was bothering her. He once again tried to draw closer, but he seemed to have frozen. Padmé stared right through his eyes, her loving and troubled gaze focusing instead on his soul. She whispered his name.

"Anakin …"

She stood up and walked over to the window, starring out at the sunset. The light shone around her like halo, merging itself seamlessly with her being. Anakin was hypnotized. Slowly, his ghost-like consciousness drifted over to stand next to her. He followed her gaze across the horizon, towards the Jedi Temple, the very place where his body now stood, gazing at her. And over that distance of several kilometers and vast skyline, their eyes locked.

Anakin was suddenly aware of himself in two places, the Council Chamber and Padmé's apartment. All he could see was Padmé, looking beautiful and kind, yet at the same time, sad. And vulnerable. So vulnerable.

A voice called to him over the planes of distance and time. Padmé's voice, speaking the words that had shaped his life forever.

_I truly, deeply love you. And before I die, I want you to know._

Padmé's fingers rose to her breast, caressing a small piece of carved wood and metal that hung there. The japor snippet he had given her all those years ago. The symbol of their love. His dream self reached out and placed his hand on hers, touching it. Then suddenly he was being pulled away. In a corner of his mind, he saw the japor snippet slip from their grasp to crash and shatter on the floor.

* * *

Padmé gasped and clutched the carved token tightly in her hand. For a moment, she had felt as though Anakin had been standing beside her. She had known unspeakable peace and love. Then suddenly, she had felt a stab of pain and all had been taken away. 

"My Lady, are you all tight?"

Padmé turned her head slightly to see C-3PO, ambling towards her, sounding extremely concerned.

"Yes, Threepio," Padmé said quietly, not letting go of the necklace. "I'm fine. It was just a feeling."

* * *

_Just a feeling._

Anakin was whisked back to the empty Jedi Council Chamber. His vision of Padmé faded from his mind. He had lost her.

A feeling, even one as strong as love, was not enough to save her. No matter how hard he tried to hold on, to keep her from slipping away into the darkness of death, she always disappeared into the one place he could not follow.

A single tear slid down Anakin's face.

Padmé was in danger, from the dark figure that stalked his nightmares. Yet here he was, doing nothing to prevent it. He had tried, but he wasn't strong enough. He needed more power to use the one Palpatine had shown him. If the dark figure were here now, threatening his wife, he could tear it apart and throw its mangled body down into the depths of hell from where it had come. But it wasn't here. It was part of the shadows, waiting its opportunity to strike when he could not act. And in this dark hour, he had just condemned his one remaining hope to death.

Anakin's veins ran cold with horror. _What have I done?_

The Jedi Council was going to kill Palpatine. He knew it. They were going let Padmé die, just like Obi-Wan, because it suited their purpose better. And just like before, he was letting them do it.

_I can't do this,_ he realized. _I can't let her die._

Never mind that Palpatine was a Sith, his sworn enemy. His only true enemy was anyone who threatened Padmé. That was the dark figure. That was the Jedi.

So this was what his life came down to. All of his years as a slave, as a Jedi, and as a soldier had led him to this one choice. The ultimate irony.

In order to save an angel, he was going to have to damn his soul.

Anakin's look of tormented indecision faded, replaced by deadly resolve. He turned his back on the brilliant sky and hurried from the Council Chamber towards the hanger bay. He had finally made a choice he should have made from the beginning. Padmé would live. And the Force help anyone who tried to stop him.

* * *

The gunship touched down on the executive landing pad of the Senate Office Building. Though the landing pad was clear with no sign of any red robed executive guards, the place seemed very ominous and foreboding. Mace surveyed the seen with a critical eye. He didn't like the situation. It was almost too quiet. Like they were expected. 

He turned to his fellow Masters in the gunship. "We will have to be quick and proactive. Do not give him any chance to escape or summon aid. If he attacks, do not hesitate to defend yourself."

"Even if that means killing him?" Master Kolar asked.

"Try and take him alive," Mace said calmly. "If possible."

The other three Masters nodded and stepped out of the gunship onto the landing pad. Mace stayed behind for a moment to talk to the pilot. "Lieutenant, take the ship around to the main landing bay and wait for us there. Keep an open channel; it's possible we may need extraction."

The pilot nodded. "Of course, General."

Mace turned to go. Just before he left the ship, however, the pilot called out from the cockpit. "Sir, I'm receiving a priority message addressed to you from a Commander Cody. He says it's very urgent. I'm routing it to your comlick now."

Mace's comlik crackled to life. "General Windu, are you there?"

"Cody?" Mace asked. "I'm busy now. What's going on?"

"I have received important news from Utapau, General."

Mace frowned. "Utapau? Cody, you were ordered to vacate that planet two weeks ago."

A hint of guilt crept into the clone's steady voice. "Technically, sir, Republic Command only ordered _me_ to vacate the planet. I took the liberty of leaving a detachment behind."

Mace smiled slightly. The idea of a clone subverting orders was so strange it was amusing. Yet there was a serious side to it. Cody was too good an officer to go against Republic Command unless he thought he had a very, very good reason.

"I see. What does this concern?"

"General Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Mace immediately tensed. "Tell me, Cody. _Now._"

"Ever since the planet was secured, our troops had been scanning the planet for any trace of General Kenobi," Cody told him. "But just after I left my troops discovered a sealed archive chamber. The room was protected by some of the most advanced security they had ever seen, and it has taken them over a week to find the clearance to open the door. They only succeeded three days ago."

Mace closed his eyes. The image of the clone troops finding Obi-Wan's lifeless body in a hidden chamber sprung unwillingly to his mind. "What did they find?"

"Hundreds of thousands of files. Communications between high ranking Separatist officials dating back to the start of the war. They have forwarded most of them to Republic Command. But they found one file that we thought you should hear first."

Masters Kolar, Tiin and Fisto had returned to the gunship to see what was taking Mace so long. He beckoned them over and they gathered around his outstretched comlick. "Patch it through."

The comlick hissed, then a menacing, hacking voice came over the channel Mace recognized it instantly. General Grievous.

"Yes, Lord Sidious?"

A second voice spoke, cold, hard, and cruel. It sent shivers up Mace's spine."General Grievous. I suggest you move the Separatist leaders to Mustafar."

Mace filed the name away. It might be important.

"It will be done, my lord."

Sidious's voice lowered in tone. "The end of the war is near, General."

Grievous hesitated slightly. "But the loss of Count Dooku?"

"His death was a necessary loss, one that will result in our ultimate victory. However, my efforts to procure his successor have taken a … step back, if you will. I will need to take another approach. I will need your aid in this matter, General."

Successor? Who was Sidious talking about?

Grievous sounded surprised. "What would you have me do, my Lord?"

"After you have finished subduing the native population, contact me. Upon receiving your message, I will disclose your location to the Jedi. If my instincts serve me well, I know exactly whom they will send to engage you. Now this is what you must do. Skywalker is strong willed, but vulnerable when those he loves are lost. If he is to become my apprentice, I must first eliminate those who support him. Eliminate, or subvert to my will."

Anakin. Sidious was after Anakin. Everything that Palpatine had done in the past few months fell into place. He had gotten close to Anakin and appointed him to the Jedi Council so that he could gain leverage on him. Leverage to turn him to the dark side.

"Forgive me, My Lord. I don't understand," Grievous said.

"You don't need to _understand_, General, only obey. There is only one person who can prevent Skywalker from joining me. But he cannot do that if he already stands at my side. For my plan to succeed, you must bring me Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Four stunned gasps echoed throughout the gunship. The air suddenly became as frigid as Sidious's voice.

"You want me to kill him, My Lord?"

"No, you fool. I want you to capture him. Set a trap for him when he arrives on Utapau. Use whatever means necessary to lure him away from his army and subdue him. He will put up a fight, but if your fighting skills are truly all you claim them to be, I expect you to be able to defeat him. After you have done this, bring him to me at our base on Coruscant. There, we will begin our work."

Grievous sounded eager, but uncertain. "Kenobi will be very hard to persuade. His convictions are deeply rooted."

Sidious's voice became deadly. "Leave that to me, General. I have my methods. Jedi can be broken; I have done it before. And with someone as important as Kenobi, I will not fail."

"I will not fail either, My Lord. Kenobi will be brought to you, intact."

"I know that will not try to flaunt my orders, my friend," Sidious said threateningly. "But your hatred of Kenobi is great, and you may get carried away. Therefore know this. If he is damaged anymore than I deem necessary, it will be your head, General. If he refuses to fall, I will be the one to kill him, not you."

"I understand, My Lord."

Sidious's voice began to trail away. "Our time is at hand. Kenobi and Skywalker will both serve me, and the Jedi will at last pay the ultimate price."

The comlick hissed, then went silent.

Mace stared in shock at the horror-stricken faces of his comrades. The sheer evil of what they had just heard was great that it took a minute to sink in.

"What have we done!" Kit Fisto exclaimed, breaking the silence. "All this time we believed that Obi-Wan was dead, he has been a prisoner! We left him to a Sith Lord!"

Kolar hung his head. "Skywalker was right. We were fools. Fools!"

Mace silenced him with a glare. "No time for lamenting now. Our mission is now even more urgent. Every second we delay is another second Obi-Wan is in our enemy's claws. We must act. _Now!_"

He leapt from the gunship and tore across the landing platform at breakneck speed, the other Masters following at his heels.

* * *

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was sitting calmly at his desk, looking through a stack of reports, when the door to his office was suddenly thrown open. 

Mace Windu led the other Masters into the office. They quickly formed a line behind him, blocking the only exit. Palpatine looked up and smiled thinly at his 'visitors'.

"Ah, Master Windu and the venerable delegates of the Jedi Council. I take it you are here to give your report." His smiled faded and his voice dropped. "I must say that you are here sooner than expected."

Mace did not waste time bantering polite words. He pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it. Behind him, Kolar, Fisto, and Tiin did the same. Mace pointed the tip of his saber directly at Palpatine's heart.

"In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic," he declared. "You are under arrest, Chancellor."

Palpatine's voice last any traces of warmth as he stared with contempt at Mace. "Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?" he hissed.

Mace's lip curled. "Yes, I am. Stand down now."

"I think not," Palpatine said coldly, making no move to get out of his chair. "You have no just cause."

"I think we do," Mace told him. "In addition to charges of treason, genocide, and conspiracy to overthrow this government, you are further charged with the capture, torture, and possible murder of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. In addition to standing down, you will tell me where he is."

"Those are some serious offences, Master Windu," Palpatine said. "Almost too serious. One might think you were … hiding something. Your own negligence, perhaps. As I recall, you sent Master Kenobi to die on Utapau, not me. Thankfully, he has managed to survive your treachery and become greater than before."

"_You Sith disease!_" Mace bellowed, his iron calm starting to break. "What have you done to him?"

Palpatine smiled in satisfaction. "I opened his eyes."

Mace stepped toward the seated Chancellor. "We have all the evidence we need. The Senate will decide your fate."

A terrible growl emanated from the Chancellor's throat, and the room seemed to darken.

"I _am_ the Senate!"

Mace did not waver. "Not yet."

Palpatine rose slowly from his chair. Something shot from his sleeve into his hand in a flash of silver. A lightsaber. Palpatine ignited it and help it cross ways across his face, its red glow illuminating a truly evil smile.

"It's _treason_, then."

In a burst of incredible speed, he vaulted over his desk and leapt at the Jedi.

Saesee Tiin screamed in agony as the Sith Lord's lightsaber ripped through his body, destroying it from the inside out. His dying form collapsed to the floor.

Palpatine did not stop, but moved his weapon in a blur towards Agen Kolar. The Zabrak Master countered one blow from Palpatine, but the reverse strike knocked his weapon away and lanced through his stomach, disemboweling him. Kolar's face went from determination to shock, as watched his life blood spill onto the carpet. He shuddered slightly, then slumped against the wall, his last breath rattling out of him.

Mace and Kit Fisto felt the shock of the sudden loss of their comrades assail their senses, but the did not let themselves be overwhelmed. The two of them attacked Palpatine in tandem, green and purple blades clashing on blood red.

Palpatine parried their strikes with unbelievable speed. Standing between the two Masters, he countered each of their strikes in turn, hardly seeming to move at all. Then suddenly his blade twisted under Kit Fisto's guard and sent his saber spinning away. The Sith Lord ruthlessly drove his enemy back and swung his weapon savagely. Kit Fisto's head flew free of his shoulders and tumbled down the stairs to rest on the floor.

Suddenly, Mace was alone. He faced his enemy head on, staring Palpatine directly in the eye with no trace of fear. Then a rising red tide filled him. Raising his blade, he attacked.

Only one man had the skill necessary to use the seventh, final, and most deadly form of lightsaber combat known to the Jedi and Sith. Others had tried and failed, consumed by the aggressive power one needed to channel to use the form. Jedi had died trying to use the form, which refused to be mastered unless one had a greater strength to resist its power and bend it to his will. There were many master duelists, but only one was a master of Vaapad.

Jedi Master Mace Windu.

As Palpatine charged him, swinging his lightsaber in a killing path, Mace countered, not passively but aggressively. His strike, fueled by his natural love of combat, easily blocked Palpatine's. The fire of a warrior shone in Mace's eyes as he advanced.

Palpatine attack furiously, pouring the power of the dark side into his attacks. Each strike had a purpose, to maim, to wound, to kill. Mace used his attacks as his defense, fueling himself to even greater levels of precision. His strikes worked toward a greater purpose, ending the threat that stood before him. Palpatine retreated gradually, backing from his office into the ornate corridor that led to his main reception area. He aimed a vicious slash at Mace's face. Mace ducked under the blade easily and thrust upward, nullifying the Sith Lord's next strike. Palpatine retracted his blade then launched another assault, more brutal than the first. Mace caught it on his blade and shoved back, clearing himself space. Palpatine jabbed at him from a distance with the point of his weapon, maintaining the set distance.

Mace stalked him backwards, holding his purple blade in a guard position, ready to intercept any attack. Palpatine hissed as stabbed at the Jedi Master, like a dangerous beast that had been cornered by a hunter.

Then suddenly he launched into a rage-driven fury, hacking with deadly intensity at Mace's defenses. Mace parried each strike, high and low, matching the intensity of each attack and then redoubling it. Palpatine was forced back even more. The Sith stumbled backward, until suddenly, he felt his back make contact with the wall. He launched himself off of it, swinging with enough force to drive through the Jedi Master's defense and behead him.

But Mace anticipated the move, and went with it. He let Palpatine crash into him, then spun around and used his channeled strength to shove his enemy back hard against the wall. Palpatine's breath left him, and a hint of fear shone in his eyes. Mace's face contorted into a determined snarl as he slowly, mercilessly, drove the Sith Lord's own weapon towards Palpatine's throat.

* * *

Anakin guided his Jedi Starfighter through the crowed lanes of Coruscant traffic at breakneck speed. Weaving in and out of lines, bypassing signs and signals, he made directly for the Senate Office Building. He ignored the angry exclamations of the civilians in their stalled speeders and the squawks of protest that came over the channel from Coruscant Traffic Control. He had no time to bother with rules or regulations. His sole aim was to get to the Chancellor's office before disaster struck. 

After several tense minutes of furious flying, he spotted the Executive landing pad for the Senate Office Building. It was deserted, with no sign of the gunship that the Masters had taken. Anakin's heart leapt into his throat. Maybe he was too late.

Anakin wheeled his fighter around and touched down smoothly on the landing pad. He quickly popped the hatch and vaulted from the ship, not bothering to close it behind him. He raced determinedly across the platform and through the vast column filled hall, which was completely dark. The Force lent him extra speed. He would need it.

* * *

The Chancellor gasped as his death approached, centimeter by centimeter. An all-out shove gained him no reprieve. The locked blades continued to slide closer and closer. A strange savage triumph danced behind Mace's eyes as he watched his opponent's desperation. He moved in for the kill. 

Suddenly, the Jedi Master was thrown backwards by an invisible wall of energy. The saber lock broke, and Palpatine used the opportunity to step out of the corner and retreat down the second hall into his reception room. Mace followed.

With room to maneuver, Palpatine attacked once again. Mace met his rush head on. The two traded a series of intense blows that jarred their arms and their very cores. They continued to circle around one another as they fought, looking for anything that might give them an advantage over the other.

Their circuitous dueling took them up the short steps to the slightly raised area near the Chancellor's desk. A large window overlooking Coruscant's night sky framed the two gladiators. Palpatine chose the place to make a stand. His lightsaber hissed through the air as he closed in on the Jedi Master.

Mace blocked the deadly attack and countered with a ferocious reversal, forcing Palpatine's weapon away. The momentum from the strike carried Mace's blade into contact with the window, where the charge from his lightsaber was conducted to every corner of the transparisteel pane, causing it to shatter. The howling winds of Coruscant rushed in to the office, as the fragments of the window tumbled out into the space overlooking a twenty story precipice, followed by a much greater drop of a hundred stories or more.

The wind tore at Mace's face and robes as he faced his enemy over the deadly gap. Palpatine was panting slightly, and seemed in danger of being blown out of the open window to the landing platform below. But he anchored himself and charged once again.

Mace did not rush his enemy. Instead he stepped hard into the onslaught and delivered a punishing blow, breaking the flow of the attack. He followed the strike with a punch to the Sith Lord's face that left his enemy reeling. Then, with a determined final chop, he brought his saber down. Palpatine's weapon was knocked from his grasp and tumbled out of the window to clatter distantly on the landing platform twenty stories below.

Anakin rushed through the atrium leading to the Chancellor's office, his vision fixed on the open space before him. He strode through the door just in time to see Chancellor Palpatine scrambling backward on the windowsill, away from Master Windu, whose deadly purple blade was aimed directly at his heart.

Mace stared down at the beaten Sith Lord, utter and complete contempt filling his voice.

"You are under arrest, _My Lord_."

Palpatine spotted Anakin, who had stopped short a few paces away from the combatants. He stretched out a wrinkled hand towards the young Jedi, while using the other to shield himself from the threatening Master Windu. "Anakin!" he gasped. "I told you it would come to this. I was right. The Jedi are taking over!"

Mace looked up and saw Anakin standing there. For a moment, surprise flashed across his features, then it faded and he held up a hand, letting Anakin know to stay back. He then shifted his attention back to his cringing prisoner. "You old fool," he said coldly. "The oppression of the Sith will never return. Your plot to regain control of the Republic is over. You have lost."

Palpatine's face contorted into a mask of hatred and pure, unfiltered rage. "No!" he exclaimed furiously. "No! No! You will die!"

He raised his hands. Before Anakin could move, blue lighting exploded from Palpatine's fingertips toward Mace. The Jedi Master barely managed to get his lightsaber into position to block the deadly assault.

Anakin shielded his eyes as the lightning was reflected back at Palpatine, jarring his battered form. "He is a traitor!" he shrieked at Anakin. "Stop him!"

Mace gritted his teeth as he poured all of his energy into holding back the lightning. "_He_ is the traitor!"

"Come to your senses, Anakin," Palpatine called. "The Jedi are in revolt. They will betray you, just as they betrayed me."

Mace yelled as he struggled to keep the lightning at bay. His arms shook violently, but still he held on, directing the searing energy back at Palpatine.

Palpatine cried out in pain. "You are not one of them, Anakin. Don't let him kill me."

The lightning was being reflected into Palpatine's face. As Anakin watched in horror, the Chancellor's features began to contort, melting under the relentless waves of power. His voice started to become even more strained. "I have the power to save the one you love. You must choose."

"Don't … listen … to him, Anakin" Mace shouted, pushing down even harder against the lightning flow, which had started to weaken.

Anakin watched helplessly, torn. Before he had arrived he had been sure of his decision. Now, he didn't know who to believe.

Palpatine's voice started to fade. His eyes had turned a sickly shade of yellow and his wrinkled skin was now gray and stretched. The lightning slowed to a weak stream. "I can't hold on any longer. Ahhhhhhhh …."

His hands collapsed to his sides, and the flow of killing energy stopped. The last residual charges sparking on Mace's blade, then disappeared. The Jedi Master brought his saber back to bear on Palpatine, panting with the effort, but still strong.

"I can't …" Palpatine coughed, trying to sit up. "I am … too weak. I'm … I'm dying."

Mace kicked him back down. Deadly resolve burned in his eyes. "I am going to end this once and for all!"

Anakin suddenly found his voice. "No! You can't. He must stand trial."

Mace turned to look at Anakin in disbelief, as though he had not heard him correctly. Meanwhile, something flickered in Palpatine's yellow eyes.

"Anakin," Mace said firmly, "He has control of the Senate and the Courts. He is too dangerous to be kept alive."

"I'm too weak," Palpatine called. "Don't kill me. Please!"

Anakin's voice rose. "It is not the Jedi way! He must live!"

Mace turned away and focused his deadly gaze on the struggling Chancellor. He raised his lightsaber. "I'm sorry, Anakin. I have no choice."

Palpatine's breathing quickened. "No, please don't. Please don't!"

Anakin's voice became desperate. "I need him!"

Mace's weapon continued to rise. "He's trying to twist your mind, Anakin. He has nothing to give you, save lies and death!"

"No!" Anakin screamed. "I need him! I need him to save PADMÉ!"

Mace's saber stopped dead in midair.

"WHAT!"

"She's my wife!" Anakin yelled, the truth pouring out him like a waterfall. "I've had a vision! He's the only one that can help me save her! If you kill him, she'll die!"

Mace nearly lost his grip on his saber. He stared at Anakin in utter shock.

"Senator Amidala is your _wife_?"

"Yes," Anakin told him. "We've been married three years! She's …" He stopped.

Mace turned a furious gaze on him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anakin hung his head. "I thought … I thought you would betray us."

Palpatine was staring at Anakin with every bit as much disbelief as Mace. "Anakin, what are you thinking? They'll destroy her!"

Mace rounded on Palpatine. "You! What poison have you been telling him?"

Palpatine shrank back. "I …I …"

"You made him believe that _you_ could save her?" Mace yelled. "You used this to try and turn him? You twisted, lying scum!" He raised his saber again, preparing for a fatal strike.

"No!" Anakin exclaimed. "You can't!"

Mace ignored him. With furious strength he brought his weapon down.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Anakin ignited his own saber and thrust it into Mace's path. The killing strike crashed onto Anakin's blade centimeters above Palpatine's face.

Mace stared at Anakin, stunned. "Anakin, what are you doing?"

"I won't let you do this!" Anakin yelled furiously. "I won't let her die!"

Mace tried to pull his blade free, but Anakin kept it pinned. "He's lying to you, Anakin! He cannot save her. He just wants you for his apprentice!"

Anakin drove Mace's blade away from the Chancellor. "He's shown me the power I need. I can save her."

"He's poisoned your mind, Anakin. Stand aside!"

Anakin's voiced dropped to a threatening tone. "Back down, Master Windu. Don't make me kill you."

"Anakin" Mace exclaimed as he struggled against the saber lock. "Listen to yourself! This man staged a war! He's betrayed the Republic! _He's captured Obi-Wan_!"

Anakin lightsaber stopped dead. "What?"

"He's lying!" Palpatine shrieked. "He's lying! The Jedi killed your master!"

Mace ignored him and stared directly at Anakin. "Anakin, I heard a recording detailing a conspiracy between General Grievous and this man, Darth Sidious. He was planning to capture Obi-Wan and torture him. He wants to turn him and use him to turn you as well."

"Jedi lies!" Palpatine yelled desperately. "Don't trust him Anakin! He wants Padmé dead!"

Anakin's look of deadly resolve faltered. His arms shook badly as he held his lightsaber. "No … that can't be true …"

"Please believe me, Anakin," Mace said entreatingly. "There is still time to save him. Trust me."

"Only I can help you, Anakin! Only through me can you achieve the power …"

But Anakin didn't hear him. His ears were ringing. His mind was stunned. He slowly staggered backwards, the tip of his lightsaber dropping from Mace's heart towards the floor. Mace calmly lowered his own blade and took a step towards the tormented young Jedi. "Anakin …"

"NOOOOOOO!"

Palpatine leapt to his feet, abandoning all traces of weakness, real or fabricated. A silver streak rocketed up through the window from twenty stories down to smack into his hand. The enraged Sith Lord ignited his blood red saber and leapt at Mace. The unprepared Jedi Master ignited his own blade. A second too late.

Palpatine's saber sliced through Mace Windu's right arm, severing it at the elbow. The amputated limb flew free of Mace's body, sending his lightsaber plummeting towards the Coruscant streets far below.

Mace screamed in shock and pain as his body registered the sudden loss of his arm. He stumbled backwards, away from Anakin towards the open window. With a roar of unsuppressed rage, Palpatine raised his free hand, channeled all of his hatred, and let it fly.

Searing blue lightning struck Mace, enveloping his entire body in a shimmering corona of power. The great Jedi Master screamed as the lightning racked his already tortured body, setting every nerve cell in his body on fire. Anakin's back was flung against the wall by the recoil of the immense surge of Force energy. Pinned against the wall, he watched in numb disbelief as Palpatine, whom all had thought beaten, turned the tables on his conqueror.

Mace was forced to his knees as the lightning lanced through his body, slowly overcoming his instinctive defenses. Palpatine laughed and redoubled his assault. "Power, Master Jedi!" he shrieked insanely at his writhing enemy. "Unlimited power!"

Mace's screams began to fade to groans of intense agony as he weakened. He tumbled onto his back on the window ledge, twitching under the continuous assault. Anakin's eyes flickered to Mace's prostrate body, then to Palpatine, then back again.

_He just wants you for his apprentice! _

Only through me can you achieve the power to save her …

There is still time to save him. Trust me.

Suddenly the lightning ceased. Palpatine stood over Mace's body and pointed his lightsaber directly at his throat.

"Treachery has served you well, Master Jedi," he hissed raggedly. "But you will not cheat me now!"

The power collected at his fingertips again. The Sith Lord raised his lightsaber for the kill.

Time seemed to slow for Anakin. He saw Mace, lying on the floor, defenseless. He saw Palpatine, who held the promise, but also death. In his mind, he saw the face of his angel Padmé, beautiful, radiant, and alive, whispering to him.

_You don't need more power, Anakin. I believe that you are strong enough to protect me just the way you are._

And then another voice. His brother. His master. His best friend.

_I trust you, Anakin. I trust you to make the right decision._

Palpatine's lightsaber was on a downward sweep. The lightning was leaving his fingertips. He had nanoseconds to make a decision he had debated on for years. And now, only now, did he see the right path.

Anakin ripped himself free of the wall, ignited his lightsaber, and struck.

His blue blade ripped into Palpatine's side and down his leg to his knee. The Sith Lord howled in shock and pain. His strike went wide, his lightning crashed into the floor next to Mace's head. Palpatine reeled backwards, bringing his weapon to bear on his assailant. He found himself looking into the deadly, rage filled eyes of Anakin Skywalker.

"Where is he?" Anakin demanded. "_What have you done with Obi-Wan?_"

Palpatine's yellow eyes filled with shock. "Anakin, what are you doing?"

"Doing what my master would want of me," Anakin told him. "My true master. What have you done to him?"

Palpatine backed up to the window. "I have shown him the truth, as I have done for you. I offered you guidance, and a chance for deliverance. Why are you turning your back?"

Anakin held his gaze. "Because that's what Obi-Wan would want."

Palpatine's deformed face filled with hate. "Obi-Wan is gone," he snarled. "What remains is _mine_. You cannot change your destiny, Anakin. One day, you will serve me. One day, you will fulfill the Prophecy and take your place at my side. I have foreseen it."

Anakin did not flinch. "Unless you stand down now the only thing you will see is death."

"I am the master of death," Sidious hissed. "And the master of you. When all you have ever loved is lost, you will see. You are, and always have been, mine."

He turned his back on Anakin towards the shattered window. Before the Jedi could react, Palpatine jumped.

Anakin looked down just in time to see the Sith Lord land in the open top door of an assault shuttle that had materialized from nowhere. The hatch closed, and the engines roared to life. The Sith Lord's escape craft disappeared into the night, carrying Palpatine with it.

Anakin stared after it for a moment, then deactivated his lightsaber. He turned to go. If he was quick, he could track the craft. He needed to get to his fighter.

"An … a … kin …" Mace coughed.

Anakin immediately turned back to the wounded Jedi Master. He was stunned at what he saw. Mace barely seemed to be clinging to life. He knelt down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Master Windu. I should have been quicker. I should have realized …"

Mace held up his one hand to silence him. "Find … Sidious … Save …Jedi … Obi-Wan …Padmé …"

Anakin nodded. "We will, Master Windu. But first, we need to get you to a hospital, or you'll die."

Mace let his hand fall. "Leave … me …"

"No," Anakin shook his head. "I chose to save you. I won't let you die now."

Mace tried to say something, but his eyes rolled back in his head, and his breathing became even more ragged. Anakin quickly picked up the wounded Jedi Master and slung him over his shoulders. As he hurried from the office, he spotted the charred remains of a potted plant that had once sat on a ledge near the door. The Nubian Angel's Tear.

Anakin's heart sunk like a stone and a tear threatened to fall. But he forced it back. There was still hope for Padmé, he told himself as he left the office, bearing the unconscious Mace on his shoulders. He had made a choice. Now he would see its effects.

* * *


	26. Master and Apprentice

Hello again! It seems that people like the results of Anakin's confrontation with Palpatine! He is on the lightside for now, but don't get too comfortable. He is far from out of danger, especially when the new Dark Lord of the Sith arrives on the scene ...

I apologize for this chapter being short, but I promise I will get another one up very soon, as in tomorrow at the latest.

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* * *

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**Chapter 28**

Darth Vader set down the razor blade and ran a hand over his now-smooth chin. It was a very strange feeling. He could barely remember the last time he had been clean shaven, over ten years at least. That was so long that it seemed like a lifetime ago. And, in a way, he realized, it was. He had been reborn.  
He turned to face the alien leaning against the door. "How does it look?"

"An efficient job, given the circumstances," Nurrodo replied coolly. "You are scarcely recognizable."

Vader nodded in approval and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Nurrodo was right. He bore little resemblance to the man he had been. His beard, which had been a staple ever since he had become a knight, was gone. His mustache was gone as well. His hair, which he had allowed to grow long, was now trimmed short, not quite as short as in his youth, but close. It was also dyed; he had made it a darker shade of its natural auburn. He now wore green tinted contact lenses that masked his steely blue eyes. Finally, of course, there was his scar, which was distinctive in and of itself. The result was that he looked like an older version of himself as a young knight, but his dark expression and the anger that smoldered behind his eyes set him apart.

"It serves the purpose," he said, pulling his cloak back on. "It will fool the casual observer."

Nurrodo raised an eyebrow. "What about the non-casual ones? Those who know you?"

Vader smiled malevolently. "I want them to recognize me. Just as I discovered who had betrayed me, I want them to discover who it is that has destroyed them."

Nuruodo laughed. "Poetic."

"I never did read much in the way of poetry," Vader shrugged as he unlocked the door. "Not since I was young, at any rate. I guess was too busy."

"It's a worthwhile pastime," Nuruodo said, as he followed Vader into the hall. "I too, dabbled in it when I was younger. I still indulge myself occasionally. My brother has his art, I have my verses."

Vader frowned and stopped. "You have a brother?"

"Yes," Nuruodo halted alongside of him. "He serves Lord Sidious in his private fleet, as a Colonel. He is a brilliant military tactician, and has a great talent for discovering how to defeat an opposing force just by studying its culture's art."

Vader started walking again. "How does he do that?"

"I confess I have no idea, My Lord," Nuruodo admitted. "He has tried to show me many times, but I can't grasp it. I stick to other fields."

"Like poetry?"

"To a degree, My Lord. I prefer hands-on work, which is why I also specialize in intelligence and medicine."

Vader nodded. "I see. This brother of yours, what's his name?"

Nuruodo's face darkened slightly. "His proper name is Mitth'raw Nuruodo, but he abandoned that name after we were banished. He now goes by Thrawn."

Vader looked over in surprise. "Banished?"

"Yes." Nuruodo's voice became even more bitter. "Our people, the Chiss, are very disciplined. Though my brother won a great many battles for them, they feared the boldness of his tactics. One day, it all came to a head. Did you ever hear of the Outbound Flight Project?"

"Yes," Vader said. "I oversaw its launch. Several Jedi Masters went along with the military detachment to search for life in other galaxies. When I left, the Jedi had heard nothing from them."

Nuruodo smiled faintly. "They won't. We lead an attack on the project and completely destroyed it."

Vader managed to conceal his surprise. Barely. "How? That is no small order."

"We were informed by Lord Sidious's agents the threat it constituted to our people. Colonel Thrawn launched a surprise pre-emptive strike and devastated it. I was only a fighter pilot at the time, but I remember it well."

"So you've killed Jedi?"

"Several, including a few in hand to hand combat. Extremely difficult adversaries, but if you can anticipate them, and then lull them into a false sense of security, they can be overcome."

They had reached a large central room. Nuruodo produced a pass key and opened it. "The central Communications and Command center, My Lord."

Vader stepped into the room and surveyed it. Everything seemed to be in perfect working order. All the equipment was very sophisticated, in contrast to the rundown nature of the building. Clearly, his Master did not want to be kept out of touch with galactic affairs while he was here.

He also sensed another presence in the room, a lingering stain on the Force. Grievous had bee here recently, before his destruction. Vader closed his eyes and basked in the rage that welled up inside of him. Even though the General was dead, his mere memory was enough to provoke the surge of deadly feelings that Grievous had created in him – and the power he gained because of it.

"My Lord, are you alright?"

Vader opened his eyes to see Nuruodo staring at him, looking slightly concerned.

"Never better, Commander" Vader told him, smiling as the anger slid back into the dark pit in his heart. "Never better."

Nuruodo nodded in approval and stepped over to the console, flipping a few switches. The central hub hummed to life. Nuruodo busied himself about the various screens and monitors. "If it pleases you, My Lord, I can give you updates on the current state of the Republic and the Jedi while we wait for a communication from your Master."

"By all means," Vader said coolly. "Knowledge is a powerful weapon. However, I would like it if you finished your own story first."

Nuruodo looked up, his red eyes glowing eerily in the dim light. "There is not much more to say. After the destruction of the Outbound Flight project, we returned to Csilla. The High Admirals of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet were not pleased with our so-called "mutiny". Despite my brother's reasoning, our entire detachment was judged before military tribunal, then banished. We could have fallen apart, but Colonel Thrawn held us together, and offered his services to Lord Sidious, who eagerly accepted. We have served him ever since."

There was a moment of silence. Then Vader asked, "Do you resent your fate?"

"You mean do I seek revenge on my former comrades?" Nuruodo asked. "To a degree, yes. I have devoted a great deal of time to bettering myself so that should I ever confront them, I should emerge victorious. But I do not hate them. Such emotions are essential for a Sith Lord, but counterproductive for a soldier. I cannot touch your Force, so I must bide my time, hide in the shadows, and strike at the right opportunity. Patience has served me well."

He paused, as if expecting Vader to disagree. The Dark Lord, however, frowned and stroked his shaven chin. "You make a good point. Perhaps not all elements of the Jedi doctrine are to be condemned. If I can meld the strengths of the person I was, and the person I am now, I can be become truly unstoppable."

"Your time will come soon, My Lord," Nuruodo told him. "Of that, I do not doubt. Now that the Separatists are reeling …"

He was interrupted by a blaring alarm from the console. Nuruodo quickly moved towards the screen, but Vader beat him to it. The cause of the alarm was immediately made clear. "We have an incoming ship. Assault class shuttle, registered to …" he looked up in surprise. "Supreme Chancellor Palpatine."

He turned to the Chiss. "Why would the Chancellor come here?"

Nuruodo weighed the question for a moment. "No one else knows the location of this base, so unless the Chancellor is stumbling across it by accident, we have either been discovered or Lord Sidious is taking the next step in his plan."

Vader rounded on him. "Plan? What are you talking about?"

Nuruodo shook his head. "Only he can tell you that, My Lord."

Vader fixed the impassive alien with an intense, searching glare. "You know more than you're letting on, Commander, but I will let it pass … for now. Monitor the ship from here. I'm heading down to the landing bay to welcome our guest."

He swept from the room, pulling out his lightsaber as he went. Supreme Chancellor or not, Palpatine had better be on his guard.

* * *

The assault shuttle touched down gently in the deserted hanger bay. There was the typical hiss of pneumatic gas as the engine shut off, then all was quiet once more.

Standing in the shadows near the opening to the hanger, Vader watched the craft closely. He did not know what to expect from this visit. He knew his master had control over much of the Republic government, so it was possible that Palpatine worked for him, and was coming here to make his report. Or the Chancellor could be here to confront his master for some other reason. Vader didn't much care. Because he didn't know Palpatine's intentions yet, he would not kill him. Scaring the Chancellor senseless, however, would not be unforgivable.

The ramp of the shuttle opened outward to rest on the ground. Vader detached himself from the wall and moved quickly towards the ship, relying on the power Sidious had shown him to keep himself hidden.

He positioned himself under the craft and waited. He heard footsteps, then saw a robed figure descending the ramp, limping slightly. Vader silently slipped from under the ship and followed him. The man stopped just beyond the end of the ramp, and scanned the apparently empty hanger. Vader rose right behind him. Before the man could move again, Vader ignited his weapon.

"Don't turn around."

Palpatine stiffened immediately at the snap-hiss of Vader's lightsaber. The Dark Lord placed the tip of his weapon centimeters from the base of Palpatine's neck. "What are you doing here?"

"And who are you to ask me such a question?" The voice was the Chancellor's, but it sounded deeper and more grating, as though he had suffered a throat injury. "I have come here in peace. It is a crime to threaten me in such a manner!"

Vader laughed mockingly. "Your laws do not concern me, Chancellor. I'm afraid that you have no power over me. Now, since I'm asking the questions, I will again ask what you are doing here."

"I have business here," Palpatine said slowly, "An urgent matter pertaining to galactic security. It does not concern you."

"Anything that happens in this building is my concern, Chancellor," Vader told him. "My master would me most displeased if someone sought to take advantage of us. Now, you will either inform me what business you are here on or the Senate will have another Supreme Chancellor several years earlier than planned."

"Who are you?" Palpatine demanded. "And who is this master of yours?" What power does he think he has?"

"My name means nothing to you," Vader growled. "And his is above being spoken by someone like you."

"Is that so?" Palpatine asked. "Very well. I would have thought that the importance of respect would not have been lost yet. You certainly have abandoned your Jedi virtues quickly, Lord Vader."

Vader stiffened. "How do you know my …"

Then it hit him. Vader immediately deactivated his lightsaber and dropped to one knee. "Master. Forgive me. I did not realize it was you."

Sidious chuckled. "Of course you didn't. Very few do. But you acted just as I had hoped. You have proven that you are willing to kill to protect our secrets. I commend you."

He turned to face his servant. Vader looked up and immediately bit back a stunned exclamation at the sight of his master's deformed and melted face. "My Lord, what …"

Palpatine held up a hand. "It is all right, Lord Vader. I am not severely hurt."

Vader noticed the blood staining the left side of the Chancellor's robes, and his master's slightly ragged breathing, but he did not speak.

"Rise, Lord Vader," Sidious said calmly. "Walk with me. It is time that we had a discussion."

Vader rose and obediently followed Sidious out of the hanger bay. Though Sidious was standing tall and strong, it was clear that his injury was causing him a great deal of pain. And his face … what could have happened to cause such damage to his face? Finally, Vader could bear it no longer.

"If I may ask, My Lord, how did you sustain your injury and your …" he left the last word hanging.

Sidious laughed bitterly. "My deformity? What you see, Lord Vader, is the cost of power. It was always present to a degree. But during the Jedi's attempt to assassinate me, my control was broken, and the true face was revealed."

Vader stopped dead in his tracks.

"WHAT? The Jedi did this to you?"

"Yes," Sidious said. "Someone tipped them off, and they discovered my true identity. Several Council members came to kill me, under the pretext of arresting me. I tried to pacify them. Ignoring my overtures of peace, they attacked."

For a moment, Vader was too stunned to speak. The moment did not last long. Shock was washed away by a surge of pure rage unlike any that he had felt before. His hands clenched into fists, his mouth split into a snarl. The air around him began to crackle with power.

"Who?" He demanded. "Which scum took part in the assault?"

Sidious smiled. "I will tell you everything once we reach the command center. Then we will … discuss our options."

Vader bit back an angry response. They walked the rest of the way to the command center in silence.

* * *

Mirthrada Nuruodo looked up as the two Sith Lords entered the room and immediately dropped to one knee. "Lord Sidious."

"Rise, my friend," Sidious said impatiently. "Time is short. I will soon have tasks for both of you."

"We have been discovered." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. Jedi Masters Mace Windu, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Kit Fisto just attempted to assassinate me. I had no choice but to defend myself." He turned to Vader. "I succeeded in killing Tiin, Kolar, and Fisto almost immediately."

Vader took a step forward. "And Master Windu?"

"Crippled beyond recovery, in all likelihood," Sidious said. "But he did not go down easily. He very nearly destroyed me. I was saved only by the intervention of Anakin Skywalker."

Vader looked up in shock. "Anakin? Anakin was there?"

"Yes," Sidious said. "Not to assassinate me, but to save me. At least at first."

Urgency flashed in Vader's eyes. "My Lord, I implore you to tell me everything."

"The Council had excluded him from the original party, but he disobeyed, of course. He followed them to ensure I would not be harmed. When he arrived, however, Master Windu had cornered me, and was preparing the killing strike. Anakin intervened. He said he needed me. Only I could show him the power he needed to save his wife. Padmé."

Padmé. It still was unbelievable to hear that Anakin had succeeded in keeping his marriage a secret until now. Vader had been wondering why Anakin would try to save a Sith Lord, even a friend, but now it all made sense. He would do anything for Padmé.

Sidious continued. "Master Windu did not yield. I tried to save myself, but doing so led to my becoming deformed. Master Windu said I could not be kept alive and after trying unsuccessfully to sway Anakin, he struck. Anakin blocked the attack. He forced Master Windu back, threatening to kill him if he did not let me live."

Something like pride appeared on Vader's face. "And did he?"

"No," Palpatine said bitterly. "The treachery of the Jedi was well planned. Mace said the one thing that would make him forget all his convictions."

"Which was?"

"You, my friend," Sidious said pointedly. "They had learned of your capture, and led him to believe that I had tortured and murdered you. Anakin did not believe him at first. But Master Windu was so adamant, he backed down."

"The situation was lost there. I summoned enough strength to attack Master Windu, severing his arm and blasting him with every tendril of lightning I could summon. The great Jedi Master was helpless. But then, Anakin, his mind subverted and blinded by unjust lies, saved him. He attacked me, demanding to know what I had done to you. Wounded and exhausted, I had no choice but to retreat. I did not have strength left to battle the Chosen One."

Vader's emotions were swirling around in an enormous hurricane of anger, confusion, and guilt. "But they were Jedi lies! You have done nothing to me. You showed me the true path."

"At that moment, Anakin was beyond reasoning. But when we meet again, he will have regained his rationale. We know now where his loyalties lie. Not with the Jedi, but with us. Had Master Windu not told him you were my prisoner, he would have joined us."

"Let me talk to him," Vader said eagerly. "Once he sees that I am alive, he will reconsider and join us."

"You have the right idea, my friend," Sidious said. "But Anakin will take more swaying than that. You must bring him to me."

He walked over to the main console and sat down at a chair. "Listen carefully now. As the only Jedi to defy the Council, I believe that you are the only one with no knowledge of this plot. When the Jedi learn what has transpired here, they will kill us, along with all the Senators."

Vader nodded. "I agree. With you out of the way, the Jedi will move against the Senate, under the pretext of cleansing it of corruption."

Sidious stared hard at him. "Every single Jedi is now an enemy of the Republic. You understand that, don't you?"

Vader bared his teeth. "I understand, Master."

"We must move quickly," Sidious said. "The Jedi are relentless; if they are not all destroyed, it will be civil war without end."

"First, I want you to go to the Jedi Temple. We will catch them off balance. This is a critical step. Do what must be done, Lord Vader. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy."

Vader grasped his lightsaber. "I will, My Master. But what about the other Jedi spread across the galaxy?"

Sidious smiled. "Their betrayal will be dealt with. After you have killed all the Jedi in the Temple, wait for Anakin there. He will seek you out. Do not reveal yourself immediately. Try to draw out his anger. It will make it easier to turn him. Use any means necessary to subdue him, Lord Vader, but do not damage him permanently. If he dies in your attempt to bring him in, I will be most displeased. Use excessive force only if your own survival is in doubt."

Vader bowed. "You need not worry, My Lord. I trained Anakin. I taught him to fight. I know how to handle him."

"I know you do, my friend," Sidious said. "Show him the path to true power, and he will join us."

He turned to Nuruodo. "I have a task for you too, Commander. Mace Windu very nearly cost us everything. He cannot be allowed to live. Find whatever hospital Anakin brought him to, and lead a battalion of clone troops there. Kill him, and any that stand in your way."

The alien bowed. "I will not fail, My Lord."

"Good," Sidious hissed. "With all the Jedi dead, all that will be left are the pitiful remains of the Separatists. We will destroy them easily."

His face contorted into a truly evil smile. "The three of us will be unstoppable. Together, we will destroy and bring order. Once more, the Sith will rule the galaxy, and … we shall have … peace."

* * *


	27. A Bitter Reunion

**Dark Austral:** I'm glad you mentioned that line; it's one of my favorites in the entire story! I'm also happy that you liked the alternate endind to the confrontation.

**Darth Taegous:** Thank you!

**stcobb:** I don't know what you mean; this story is a LONG way from over.

**Bakabakurasotherlady:** Glad you're happy with the way things turned out. Trust me though, Anakin isn't out of danger yet. Palpatine will get nailed eventually ...

**JediDaughter1:** Whatever happens, I hope you enjoy it!

**Jedi Master Arie Skywalker:** You'll see. Just read on.

**Ryuuko1:** Your encouragement means a great deal to me. Thank you!

**DragonRidingSorceress:** Don't be afraid to express wht you think, good or bad. I'll update as often as I can!

**Sith Worshipper:** I can understand your worry, but Obi-Wan is now a Sith. He's capable of almost anything.

**

* * *

Chapter 27**

Anakin leaned back in his chair in the hospital waiting room and sighed. This was taking far longer than he had expected. Probably because he was used to field medics who were always on hand minutes after the injury occurred. He did not frequent general hospitals, and had no intention of doing so.

But the Coruscant Medical Institution was one of the best in the galaxy. It had to be worth the wait.

He cast another glance around the room, and the various humans and aliens all waiting to either be admitted or to see a patient. He had the hood up on his cloak, and was drawing a good deal of stares for it. But seeing as he had one of the most recognizable faces in the galaxy, he would be subject to even more attention without it.

Finally, a young human nurse appeared. "Arkan Starkiller?"

Anakin stood up and walked over to the nurse. He had invented his alias on the spot. "That would be me. How is he?"

The nurse sighed. "Not good. He went into shock while we were securing him. Probably for the best, he won't be in pain. He was given top priority, and our best doctors are working on him now. However, because you got him here soon, it's likely that he's going to pull through."

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. What do the treatments entail?"

"We have to re-stabilize almost all of his internal organ systems. The electric shock shut down parts of his circulatory and respiratory systems. He has fluid in his lungs, so we'll need to drain them. His nervous system is being treated now, he'll have almost complete control of his limbs when he wakes up. And then of course, he'll need a mechanical arm, to replace the one he lost. Luckily the wound was cauterized, so bleeding was minimal."

She frowned. "He has remarkable fortitude, but considering the injuries it's amazing that he's alive at all. How did you say this happened again?"

Anakin shifted slightly, but kept his tone neutral. "Industrial accident."

"I see," the nurse studied Anakin's shadowed face closely, trying to get a hold on his expression. "And are you his coworker or are you …"

Anakin's comlick suddenly went off, sparing him from answering. "Excuse me, miss."

He took a step away then activated the speaker. "Hello?"

"_Where are you?_"

Anakin nearly dropped the comlick. "Padmé?"

Padmé's normally calm voice sounded decidedly less than calm. "Anakin! Do you realize what time it is? I'm worried sick!"

A quick glance at the chronometer on the wall stunned him. It was well past midnight. Anakin recovered and quickly masked the comlick with his free hand. "I'm at the Coruscant Medical Institute. Master Windu …"

"The Coruscant Medical Institute?" Padmé's suddenly sounded extremely worried. "Are you hurt, Ani?"

Anakin winced. "I'm fine, Angel. I'm in a public place. Try not to talk so loud or my cover will be blown."

"Cover? What are you talking about?"

Anakin lowered his voice. "Padmé, listen to me very carefully. Something happened at the Chancellor's Office. Jedi are dead, and Master Windu is in critical condition here. Palpatine is going to move against the Jedi. People are searching for me, and you are now a potential target. I want you off Coruscant. Use whatever excuse you need too, but go. Get to a safe place. I'll explain everything later …"

A tremendous surge of power rolled over Anakin, stunning him for a moment. Familiar rage and malice echoed through the Force all around him. Anakin knew the source, almost as well as he knew himself.

_He's coming. Palpatine is coming for me. And someone else is too …even more deadly._

"Anakin …"

Anakin snapped back to reality, cold sweat pouring down his neck. "Padmé, please listen to me. I need to know that you're safe. Take Sabé and Threepio and go. Don't worry about me. I'll find you …"

Static started to crackle on the channel, distorting it. Padmé sounded frightened. "Anakin, I don't want to leave you."

"You have no choice. You have to be safe. I love …"

The channel exploded in static, and Padmé's voice was lost.

Anakin let loose an extremely vulgar curse in Huttese that caused a pair of Rodians sitting nearby to look up, scandalized. The nurse was staring at Anakin as though he had suddenly become dangerous. "Who was that? Did she call you Anakin?"

People in the room began to whisper. "Anakin? Like Anakin Skywalker?"

Anakin began to stride for the exit. "I have to leave. Watch over the patient. He may be in more danger than I thought."

Before anyone could stop him, Anakin fled from the building and disappeared into the Coruscant night.

* * *

Darth Vader stepped calmly from his shuttle onto the landing pad of Five Hundred Replica. Most of the lights in the building were extinguished, but the penthouse at the top was in full blaze. Vader smiled under his cowl. Padmé was home. Excellent. 

The darkness was so complete that Vader did not need to conjure shadows in order to walk unseen, but he did so anyway. Such immersion was natural to him now. His mindset was focused and resolute; he would need to be both for the task he had set himself.

Sidious did not know that he had come here. He had told no one. He doubted the Dark Lord would approve of what he was doing, but he need not find out. If all went as planned, there would be no evidence he had ever been here.

He rode the turbolift up to the top level and exited onto the quiet landing. He moved quickly towards the end of the hall. He could not afford to spend too long here; his Master was relying on him to execute a greater plan. But this would not delay him. It was just unfinished business. He had no intention of missing his opportunity to extract vengeance.

A single handmaiden was standing guard outside the door. Vader considered simply crushing her windpipe, but that would leave an unnecessary mess on the carpet. Besides, Padmé might get the wrong impression. Instead, he emerged from the shadows. The handmaiden jumped as a dark robed man suddenly materialized out of thin air in front of her.

"Good evening," Vader said coolly. "I am here to see Senator Amidala."

The handmaiden quickly recovered from her surprise and blocked the door. "Sir, do you realize what time it is? Senator Amidala is asleep."

Vader smiled and shook his head. "I can assure you that she is not. Let me speak to her."

The handmaiden was resolute. "Come back in the morning. She's not coming out to talk to a stranger."

Vader dropped his pleasant tone. "She will want to see me. I am no stranger."

"Oh? And who are you?"

Vader stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tell her that … it concerns her husband."

The handmaiden look at him as through he had sprouted tentacles. "Her husband? Sir, Senator Amidala is not married."

Vader raised his hand and passed it in front of her face. "Just tell her."

The handmaiden's eyes glazed over slightly as Vader's power subverted her mind. "I will tell her." She unlocked the door and disappeared into the apartment.

Vader stood still and waited. He didn't like that he had had to resort to mind tricks, but he didn't have time to argue with the woman. This little subversive act would pay off, even when Padmé found out the truth.

* * *

Padmé frowned. "He said what?" 

The handmaiden looked uncomfortable. "My Lady, I'm just passing on the message. I told him that he should come back later, but he was adamant."

Padmé didn't know what to think. She and Anakin had made it a priority to keep their relationship a secret, and now Anakin was telling people outside their inner circle of confidence. Who was this man that Anakin would have confided his marriage to him? Or maybe he hadn't …

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know, My Lady. He was wearing a hooded cloak. But he seemed … dark."

Padmé's curiosity went up another notch. "Let him in."

"Yes, My Lady."

* * *

The handmaiden reappeared at the door. "She says to let you in." 

Vader smiled under his hood. "Excellent. Now, leave us. Lock the door. And let no one else in."

The handmaiden seemed to want to protest, but once again Vader's power had seized her. Nodding dumbly, she stood aside to let Vader in and then locked the door behind him.

Vader moved quickly down the short entrance hallway towards the main room. He stopped just before entering the lit foyer and waited in the shadows.

Padmé scanned the darkness, looking extremely tense. Her eyes pierced the darkness in which Vader was hiding, finally focusing on his faint, almost imperceptible outline.

"Is someone there? Show yourself."

Vader smiled, a streak of malicious pale white appearing in the inky blackness of the hall. "Are we alone?"

Padmé tensed even more, one hand clasped behind her back. Clearly she had a weapon in case anything went awry. "What does it matter?"

"Just answer the question."

"I am alone now, but Security is watching."

"Well, that can be remedied."

The closed circuit cameras that were installed various grooves around the room suddenly exploded in showers of sparks.

Padmé jumped. "How did you …"

Vader emerged from the shadows into the light of the main room. "Really, Padmé, I don't know why you bother with those. Whenever Anakin's here, you have Artoo block them anyway, don't you?"

Padmé took a step back from the hooded man who appeared to have materialized out of thin air. Her expression, however, did not exhibit fear.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

"My name is unimportant to you," Vader said coolly. "But my errand is of great concern. No one else can know what has happened here."

"What do you mean?"

Vader sighed. "Padmé, you have no idea how much danger you are in."

Padmé's expression became defiant. "From who? You?"

"No," Vader shook his head. "Not from me. From my master. And even worse, from the Jedi."

"The Jedi?" Padmé asked. Worry crept into her tone. "Does this have anything to do with Anakin?"

"It has everything to do with Anakin," Vader said. "He has been caught up in a deadly plot years in the making."

"What are you talking about?"

"Padmé," Vader said seriously. "The Jedi have attempted to overthrow the Republic."

"You're wrong!" Padmé exploded. "The Jedi uphold the peace. They would never do something like that!"

"They have," Vader informed her. "Less than three hours ago a Jedi strike team attempted to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine. He was injured, and barely managed to escape alive. Only the intervention of your husband, Padmé, prevented the Jedi plot from succeeding."

Padmé gasped. "He saved the Chancellor? Is he all right?"

"Physically, he is fine," Vader said. "In the other senses, no. The Jedi have taken him hostage."

Shock sprang onto Padmé's face. "Hostage! Why? How?"

"They know, Padmé," Vader said solemnly. "They have discovered your marriage. And they have led him to believe that the only way to save you is to aid them."

"How did they find out?" Padmé demanded. "And how do you know? Are you working with them?"

"How I discovered your engagement is irrelevant. Suffice it to say that it did not come through subversive means. The Jedi, on the other hand, have been suspicious for years. I do not know when they found out exactly, but when Anakin was standing between Mace Windu and the Chancellor, they played their hand. Windu told him that only the Jedi could save Padmé. If Anakin did not help him, you would die."

"And he chose, Padmé. You are more important to him than any values of democracy that he has. He could not let you die. Tormented, but having no other choice, he turned on the Chancellor. Deprived of his ally, Palpatine was overwhelmed, but he succeeded in wounding Master Windu before he was forced to flee."

Padmé's back touched the wall. She leaned against it for support. "So what's happening now? Do the Jedi still have him?"

"I would assume so," Vader said gravely. "They will not release their hold on him until their task is done. And he will not try to free himself until he can assure your safety. And this is what I have come, Padmé."

"Are you here to protect me?" Padmé asked. "And unless Anakin sent you, why should I trust you?"

"You have no choice, Padmé. My master knows that Anakin remains loyal to the Republic. He will aid us in restoring justice if his wife is no longer in danger. But the Jedi are relentless, Padmé. They are coming for you. You need to get off-planet, now. Gather what you can, then take your ship and leave Coruscant. Go to Naboo, Alderaan, anywhere that you want, but leave. The Jedi cannot find you here."

"And what about Anakin?" Padmé asked, still sounding worried. "He's still going to be in danger. I won't abandon him."

"Once you are safe, nothing will be able to stop him from returning to you. Time is short, Padmé. You need to …"

A warning screeched at him through the Force. Stopping in mid-sentence, Vader whirled around, ignited his lightsaber, and brought it up just in time to intercept the blaster bolt aimed at his head.

A cloaked woman had appeared in the doorway to the apartment. She held a blaster in her hand and was pointing it straight at Vader.

"Run, My Lady!" she cried, just as she loosed another bolt at Vader.

Vader twisted his blade to block the shot, sending it ricocheting back centimeters away from the woman's head. She ducked, then fired a third time. Vader blocked it, then extended his hand and unleashed his power towards her. The blaster she was holding flew into his hand, and he threw it into the far room.

The woman did not let the loss of her weapon stop her. She rushed Vader, regardless of the lightsaber. Vader once more extended his hand, and with the power of the Force, picked her up and threw her against the wall. The woman slumped to the ground.

Vader deactivated his lightsaber and turned back to Padmé as though nothing had happened. "As I was saying …"

Padmé was staring in shock at the woman on the floor. "What have you done to her?" she breathed.

"She is not dead," Vader said. "Merely stunned. It would have been worse for her had she impaled herself on my blade, which she was close to doing."

"Will she be all right?"

"Of course," Vader said carelessly. "I could have shattered all her bones, but that would hardly endear me to you. But as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Coruscant is no longer safe for you, Padmé. The next person to come barging into your apartment may be a Jedi assigned to take you into custody, or even kill you. Anakin does not want to risk this, and neither do I. I will escort you to your ship …"

Vader suddenly felt an arm close around his neck, trying to crush the breath from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the attacker was the woman he had stunned moments earlier. She had been faking; creeping up behind him to get in position for a strike.

The woman leapt onto Vader's back, keeping her arm tight around his neck, trying to cut off his breathing and circulation. Darkness began to form at the corners of Vader's vision, but summoning his strength he bent forward, breaking her grip and catapulting his attacker over his head onto the floor. His hood fell off, but he ignored it.

The woman immediately shook off the landing, rolling into a perfect crouch and then springing back towards him.

Vader backhanded the infuriating woman into the wall. She struck it with considerable force and bounced off. Vader grabbed her arm and threw her onto the floor. When she tried to get up, he knocked her back down, then raised his fist, fully intending to knock her out for good. But just before his fist made contact with the woman's head, he stopped dead in mid-air.

The woman's hood had fallen off as well, revealing a perfectly shaped face with deep brown eyes and soft lips, surrounded by a cascade of long ornate brown hair. Vader's breath caught in his throat; he knew the face almost as well as he knew his own. It had burned a permanent place in his memory.

"_Sabé_," he breathed.

Sabé looked right into his eyes, an expression of stunned disbelief and happiness on her face. "Obi-Wan?"

Vader cursed internally. He had been revealed. Obviously Sabé was not fooled by his dyed hair, shaven beard, or the green contacts he wore. She had recognized him the instant she had seen his face, just as he had recognized her. His cover was blown. But somehow, he didn't care. There was nothing for it now.

He reached up to his eyes and popped out the contacts, returning his eyes to their natural blue shade. "Hello, Sabé."

"_Obi-Wan!_"

Sabé leapt up and rushed towards him, arms outstretched and tears of happiness shining in her eyes. But just before she could crush him into an embrace, Vader stretched out his arm and placed it on her breast, gently holding her back.

"Don't."

Sabé stopped and let her arms fall to her sides, confusion and hurt replacing the joy on her face. "What?"

Vader lowered his arm and took a step back. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Sabé looked even more confused. "What do you mean? You're alive! You've been gone for months, everyone thought that you were dead, but you're here in front of me now! Why isn't this the time or the place?"

"Because I am here on a mission, nothing more."

"A mission!" Sabé exclaimed. "Obi-Wan, forget duty for a minute …"

"Please don't call me Obi-Wan," Vader said coldly.

Sabé laughed incredulously. "Why not? It's your name."

"No," Vader said firmly. "The man you speak of no longer exists."

Sabé's confused look became even more profound. "But …"

Vader cut her off. "We do not have time for this now. My master will be extremely displeased if I am not at my destination soon. I am not even supposed to be here. But the two of you are in great danger, as I was explaining to Padmé before you, ah … intervened."

Padmé was also staring at Vader with profound shock, clearly not believing what she was seeing. But she pulled away from the wall and took a few tentative steps towards Vader, as though worried he might vanish if she moved too quickly, like smoke being driven away by a sudden wind. She stopped roughly three paces away, her deep brown eyes tracing a path over Vader's scarred, yet familiar features.

"_Obi-Wan_," she breathed. "I don't believe this. We were so worried about you. We thought you were dead. Anakin said he couldn't feel you at all, that you had just vanished from the Force. Anakin …" She paused and her eyes lit up. "Anakin! He'll be thrilled when he founds out you're alive! Or does he know already?"

Vader's expression darkened. "He does not. But he will. We are destined to meet again; my master has foreseen it."

Sabé, who had been standing in stunned silence since Vader's rough dismissal of her, suddenly spoke out. "Who is this master you keep talking about? Do you mean the Jedi Council …?"

"_DO NOT MENTION THAT GROUP OF FILTHY, BACKSTABBING TRAITORS IN MY PRESCENCE!_"

Both Sabé and Padmé jumped away from Vader at the explosion of unforeseen rage that tore from his lips. The lights in the room flickered, briefly obscuring the room in inky darkness. An icy wind rattled the suspended lamps and the women's hair, though all the doors were shut. Vader's previously calm face had twisted into a furious expression of inexpressible hate, and a red fire sprang into his eyes, burning from his terrible snarling face like twin portals of hell. Sabé had been forced back to the wall and pinned by an invisible wave of power radiating from the Sith Lord, while Padmé braced herself against a nearby table, shielding her face from the sight.

The suddenly as it had came, Vader's fury vanished. The air in the room became warm again and light returned. Vader's clenched fists remained tight for a moment longer, then relaxed. The red drained from his eyes, leaving them blue as before, though still shining with some inner passion. His breathing, which had become labored, slowly even out as he watched the two women disengage themselves from their posts of support.

Sabé's beautiful face showed a complicated blend of fear, confusion, and concern. Though rose up and faced Vader, standing tall, she seemed unwilling to draw any closer, as though worried he might lash out again. It was painful for Vader to see this reaction in her. She was so strong and brave, yet she was afraid. Of him. Part of him cried out to go and reassure her, comfort her, whisper in her ear that everything was alright. He buried the feeling in the dark corner of his heart. Weakness was not something he could afford now, or ever again.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Sabé whispered, in a voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It was not your fault," he said gruffly. "I … lost control. I apologize."

"What did I say?" Sabé asked. "Did the Council …?"

Vader's eyes immediately blazed red again, and Sabé shrank back against the wall, her voice dying in her throat.

Once more, the Dark Lord's anger dissipated. He took a half-step towards the shaken Sabé, then retracted it and turned to face Padmé, who had recovered much quicker than her companion from the shock of his outburst.

"We've wasted enough time here. You have to go."

Padmé did not move. She was staring at Vader as though she had never seen him before, her gaze even more intense than her previous stare.

"I don't know what to think," she said quietly, keeping her eyes locked with Vader's. "You vanished, yet you came back, seemingly from the dead. You're standing here, alive and well. But you're … changed." She took a step towards him. "What happened to you?"

At first, Vader managed to keep utterly impassive, ignoring both Sabé's pained face and Padmé's increasingly disbelieving stare. Eventually, however, his icy indifference began to crack. His hard blue eyes turned to face the floor, unable to stand the scrutiny any longer.

"I have changed," he said softly. "It is impossible not to when you discover that everything that you ever stood for was a lie, and that you have been a slave to an ideal that you believed was just."

"I don't understand," Padmé said, sounding utterly perplexed. "You are one of the strongest people I know. What revelation could cause you to lose your faith? Did the Couc … did _they_ do something to you?"

Indecision flitted across Vader's face as his rationale warred with his desire. This was dangerous territory; Padmé had him pinned. He knew he shouldn't say anything, but somehow he couldn't stop himself.

"I was betrayed," he said quietly. "The Council sent me to Utapau to apprehend General Grievous. But Grievous set a trap for me. He lured me away from support, then subdued me through trickery. I do not know how long I was kept unconscious, but when I awoke I was a prisoner. Grievous took every opportunity to torment me, to try and break me. I was tortured …" he paused briefly, discovering how tightly he was clenching his fist in anger. Sabé gave a slightly choked gasp.

Vader got himself under control then continued as though nothing had happened. "While I was imprisoned, I learned the truth. The Jedi Council had set me up. I was becoming too radical for them, so they had allowed me to be captured, then abandoned me to Grievous. The shock of this betrayal nearly drove me over the edge. Any feeling of love or caring I had ever maintained faded away. I had nothing left, nothing but my own resentment, and my growing hatred of Grievous. But then, when my hour was at its darkest, my master found me. He should me how to use my anger to break free of my chains. He showed me how to wield true power. And most importantly, he gave my life a purpose again. Thanks to him, I was able to rebuild myself stronger than before, and utterly destroy Grievous. But though I was now free, I could not go back. I had been serving a lie; I needed to redeem my mistake. My master has offered me that opportunity; to restore true justice to the galaxy. So I now serve him gladly."

Realization began to dawn on Padmé's face, a ray of light that pierced through the smoke of confusion that had been obscuring her. But clearly, the revelation was more bitter than sweet.

"And your master," she said slowly, "Is Darth Sidious."

Vader inclined his head. "Yes."

"I don't believe this," Padmé whispered. "The Sith are enemies of the Republic. How could you join them? Have you betrayed us?"

"No, Padmé," Vader said sternly, his face hardening. "The Jedi are the enemies of the Republic. The Sith want it to be preserved. The corruption that has rotted the very foundations of the Republic has its roots in the Jedi Temple, and those roots must be unearthed and exposed to the light of truth, where they will wither and die. Only then can we truly have peace."

"And what about Anakin?" Padmé demanded. "Do you intend to sacrifice him for the sake of this vendetta?"

"No, Padmé! Don't you see? Anakin is the only Jedi who saw this coming. He knew even before I did. Had it not been for the Jedi's hold over you, he would have acted long ago. He is our greatest potential ally, and closer to me than a brother. My master wishes for him to be liberated from the Jedi and brought into the fold. He will fulfill the destiny ascribed to him at long last!"

Padmé seemed torn between wanting to run from the room as fast as her legs could carry her and moving towards Vader to shake the fanatic look from his eyes. But she stayed completely still, while Sabé, who had not moved since Vader had last spoken to her, remained like a statue against the wall, her gaze locked onto her lover's face.

"What if he doesn't, Obi-Wan?" Padmé asked him quietly. "What if he doesn't join you?"

Vader's expression darkened. "He will, Padmé. I am sure of it."

"But if he doesn't?"

"Then we will have a serious problem. My master wants him to be brought in, by force if necessary."

"What happens if he resists?" Padmé asked. A note of inner anguish was clearly audible in her voice now. "Would you hurt him, Obi-Wan? Would you kill him?"

Vader kept his face neutral, though inside conflict roared. "He could become a very great threat."

"No," Padmé said softly. "You wouldn't."

"It will not come to that, Padmé. Anakin will see reason."

Disregarding the Dark Lord's inapproachable aura, Padmé walked towards him, closing the distance until they were separated by only mere centimeters. Padmé reached out and gently took Vader's hands in hers. She looked up into his face, her brown eyes pooling with unshed tears, but the strength in them was absolute as she made her plea.

"Promise me, Obi-Wan. For the sake of the man you once were, for the sake of the man you are now, for my sake, for Anakin's sake, for the sake of anything you believe in, please promise me. Promise me you won't kill him."

Vader wanted to pull back, but not even the strongest force in the galaxy could tear his hands from Padmé's firm, yet gentle grasp. As he looked into her eyes, so full of love for the man he called his brother, and so determined not to let that love die, his dark expression softened, and his iron-clad heart opened.

"I will not kill him, Padmé, nor hurt him. You have my word."

Padmé let her hands fall, profound gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you."

To cover his moment of relapse, Vader glanced out the window, then quickly inhaled in shock. It was getting late. The strike team would almost be there by now. He needed to go.

He turned back to Padmé. "My time here is at its end. I have urgent business to attend to. Please remember my advice. For Anakin's sake, and for mine, it would be best if you left. You are too important to lose. Anakin will be fine."

Padmé nodded. "I'll gather my things."

"Thank you," Vader said gratefully. "I will not be able to see you off, but I trust your capabilities. Hopefully, I will see you soon, alive and well."

Padmé nodded, then extended her hand. "Goodbye, Obi-Wan."

Vader nearly corrected her, but he bit his tongue, took Padmé's small hand in his large, gloved one, and shook firmly. "Goodbye, Padmé."

He pulled his hood back on and turned to go. But as he did so, he noticed Sabé leaning against the wall, silent and motionless as stone. Vader stepped in front of her. Sabé's brown eyes flickered when she locked onto his face, and breathing caught slightly. Vader gently placed his hand on her chin and tilted her head up to look into his eyes.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi will always love you, Sabé," he said quietly. "He died with your name in his heart."

"But what about you?" Sabé asked, seeming on the verge of tears. "You are the one I love. Don't you still love me?"

"I cannot say," Vader shrugged. "I am not Obi-Wan anymore."

"Yes, you are," Sabé whispered, tears now falling from her eyes. "I know you are."

"Obi-Wan was not able to come back to you, Sabé," Vader told her. "He wasn't strong enough. I know this is hard to hear, but he is dead, and better left that way."

What little hope there had been in Sabé's face died. The tears began to fall faster, and she choked back a sob.

Vader wiped the tears away with his gloved hand, then leaned in and kissed Sabé softly on the lips. They sweetness of the touch nearly pulled him in, but summoning his strength he tore himself away.

"Goodbye, Sabé."

The Dark Lord turned his back on the crying woman and strode towards the exit.

"Wait." Padmé called.

Vader stopped, but did not turn around. "Yes?"

Padmé hesitated, then asked. "If you are no longer Obi-Wan, then who are you?"

There was a silence, in which only the mingled breathing of the three people could be heard. Then Vader straightened and opened the door.

"Vader," he said coldly. "My name is Vader."

With those words, the Dark Lord of the Sith stepped through the door and vanished into the shadows of the night, leaving the two stunned women behind.

* * *

Vader marched quickly down the corridor, refusing to look back, refusing to think about anything but reaching the elevator at the far end of the hall. He shouldn't have done that. He had wasted far too much time, and nearly lost his seemingly unshakeable purpose. Such a lapse could not happen again. His master was counting on him to do what was necessary, no matter what the cost. Obi-Wan had failed that trial. Vader would not. 

He threw the remnants of the weak emotions he had allowed to take hold of him back in Padmé's apartment into the perpetually burning fire of his soul. Inwardly, he watched them wither and be consumed, fueling the black flames and causing them to soar to even greater heights. Heat filled veins, spreading throughout his body till it was no more than a vessel of his determination. As he stepped into the elevator and let the doors close, cutting him off from the last remaining traces of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a deadly look of resolve sprang into his eyes. It was time.

* * *


	28. Order 66

**Chapter 28**

An enormous explosion rocked the Separatist's Forward Command Center, sending flaming debris several hundred meters into the air. The Republic Assault Bombers banked around and re-formed their wing for another pass. Laser cannons blazing, they cut a path through the remnants of the droids' defense squadron, then launched their payload directly at the base of the burning tower. It was the killing blow. The main generator exploded, tearing the dying building apart.

From his high platform in a giant wroshyr tree overlooking the battlefield, Yoda watched as the last remaining Separatist stronghold on Kashyyyk collapsed into a pile of burning metal. It was over. After nearly three months of brutal campaigns, bloody battles, and countless dead, it was over. The Separatists were defeated. Kashyyyk was free.

Yoda closed his eyes and turned away from the sight of his victory. Though he had been seeking this moment for three months, he did not feel any joy. He felt only sadness that it had come to this. The cost in both lives and morality had been far too high.

The two Wookies on the platform, General Tarfull and Chewbacca, threw back their heads and roared triumphantly at the sky. Commander Gree, Yoda's second in command, watched the burning horizon impartially through his electrobinoculars. He lowered them and turned to Yoda. "The enemy has been destroyed, sir. I am receiving a transmission from the surviving Seperatists that they are ready to surrender. Unconditionally."

Yoda nodded. "Accept the surrender, we will. No more killing, there will be."

Gree nodded and picked up his comlick. "Yes, sir."

Yoda started to limp towards the ladder. "Send word of our victory to Coruscant, and then …"

A wave of dark power rolled over him, so strong it nearly caused him to buckle. Yoda's mind was assailed by a flurry of emotions that he had no name for, but one particular one dominated the rush; which he knew all too well. Hate.

"Master Yoda?"

Yoda looked up to see Commander Gree staring at him through his expressionless mask, while the two Wookies looked on with obvious concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Yoda gasped. "Unhurt, I am. Just …"

What had caused such a strong premonition? For that had been what it was, an omen that something terrible was about to happen. And judging from its strength, it was going to happen soon. It had already started.

The Jedi Master straightened to his full height. "To our base of operations, I must return. Transport, I will need."

Chewbacca roared a suggestion, and Tarfull woofed in agreement. Gree nodded. "These two will take you back in their vehicle, sir. I will follow you after I receive the final status update from our ground commander."

"Await you, I will."

Yoda turned and stumped off down the platform towards the waiting speeder, moving far more quickly than the Wookies despite his cane. The Jedi Temple needed to be warned.

* * *

Darth Vader stepped from his black speeder, a cold night wind billowing his cloak about him. He tilted his head back to stare up at the magnificent building before him. Even at night, the Jedi Temple had a radiance of its own that could awe even the most resolute patrons. At one time, Vader himself had often stopped to look up and simply admire the sight of the beautiful old monument that was his home. Now, its majesty was lost on him. This place was no longer his home, it was his arena. 

Behind him, a platoon of Republic Gunships settled to the ground lightly. Fully armed clone troopers leapt from the ships to the ground, then hurried to assemble. With a wave from the Commander, the Gunships lifted off again into the sky.

Vader marched over to Commander Tarc, leader of the elite clone squadron designated as the 501st, who was securing a rocket grenade launcher to the barrel of his assault rifle. "Are your units ready, Commander?"

"All battalions have given the green status report, sir. Air support standing by."

"Did you jam their communications?"

"All transmitters inside the kill zone have been shut down, sir. We're ready when you are."

Vader pulled out his lightsaber. "Form up. Let's finish this with minimal casualties."

Tarc barked an order, and the 501st snapped into formation. Vader positioned himself at the head of the column. He turned his gaze up the stairs towards the Jedi Temple, so peaceful and serene and unprepared. For a moment, he closed his eyes and nearly turned back.

_Do what must be done, Lord Vader._

The Dark Lord's eyes snapped open. "All units, forward!"

He led the grim procession up the steps of the Jedi Temple. The measured thundering of the steps of a thousand troopers shattered the serene peace outside the Temple, but its occupants gave no sign. Never in ten thousand years would they have expected something like this. Under his hood, Vader kept his eyes focused on the marble door ahead of him. Once he crossed that barrier, things would come full circle. And he could never go back.

They reached the door, which was sealed tight. Tarc signaled the demolition experts to plant charges and blow the door. Vader waved them back. Reaching deep into the Force, he felt the mechanism that controlled the door and pushed. The vast portal to the Jedi's hearth groaned open. Vader led the unholy procession into the Temple.

* * *

The corridor leading to the main hall of the Temple was silent. Though it was often a popular place for Jedi to hold discussion, tonight it was deserted. Vader stole quickly down the corridor shutting off surveillance as he went, clearing the way for his troops. He could see the entrance now. Once they emerged, there would be no cover until they could secure a position. Surprise was essential. 

Just before the opening, however, there was a dark shape. It was facing the hall, not moving, barely breathing. A Jedi in meditation. The foremost troopers raised their weapons, but Vader signaled them to wait. Donning the cloak of shadows, he crept up behind the Jedi.

As he drew closer, he saw who it was, and savage fury stole onto his face. Lightsaber in hand, he closed this distance.

* * *

_Saesee Tiin called for a vote. Obi-Wan's heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure Grievous could hear it. Pablo-Jill, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Kit Fisto all cast their votes in favor. The proxy votes for Ki-Adi Mundi, Plo Koon, and Stass Allie followed. In an instant, the tally was seven to nothing. Anakin quickly voted against the nomination. Mace followed suit, and cast Yoda's proxy against it. Only Shaak Ti remained. _

"Master Ti," Pablo-Jill said sharply. "Your vote. Remember our discussion."

"Aye," Shaak Ti whispered.

* * *

Shaak Ti knelt on the marble floor, deep in silent meditation. She always chose to meditate in this spot every night because of its serenity. Here, she could truly rest her mind. 

But something was wrong. There was a dark presence clouding her reflections, so strong that it was hurting her mind to dwell on it. She tried to block it out, but far from disappearing it seemed to be getting stronger, getting closer.

She could bear it no longer. With a gasp, she awoke from her meditation and spun around to face the disturbance. A man was standing behind her, power roiling around him, shadows melding into his very being. Shaak Ti could not fully discern his face, but it seemed familiar …

Her breath caught in sudden fear as she reached for her weapon. "Who are …?"

A streak of blue death shot into existence and swung towards her, cutting off her life before she could stand.

* * *

Vader knocked the now-headless body of Shaak Ti out of his path. Not just any Jedi. A Council Member. The one whose words had pronounced his ultimate exile. Now, she would never speak again. A grin spread across his face. _One traitor down._

He signaled his troops to proceed. When they were level with him, Vader placed his hands on the doors opening into the main hall and stepped through them.

Jedi Masters and older padawans milling about the hall looked up in surprise at the sound of the great door banging open, and at the cloaked figure who stepped through it. All conversation immediately ceased. Surrounded by at least fifty Jedi, Vader did not seem the least bit perturbed.

A graying human Jedi Master and a short Bothan stepped forward to confront him. Vader did not move, watching them under his hood while silently counting down.

"Who are you?" The human Jedi demanded. "Why have you come to our Temple at this late hour?"

Vader did not speak. Instead, he raised a clenched fist into the air – and let it fall.

A hail of blaster bolts screamed through the doorway, riddling the two Jedi Masters before they could react. Blood stains rapidly spread over the front of the Jedi's robes, as they crumpled; disbelief etched in the death masks of their faces. There was a half a second pause where no one moved or breathed, then all hell broke loose.

Clone troopers poured into the main hall through the narrow entrance, guns blazing in every direction. Half a dozen Jedi were killed before they could even draw their weapons. Still more went down after only deflecting one or two shots, overwhelmed by the coordinated bursts of concentrated fire from the clones. The rest ignited their weapons and rushed the troops.

Vader did not waste any time. Charging forward to meet the advance, he struck down the first Jedi who crossed his path, a Twi'lek Knight. He briefly recalled fighting alongside the Twi'lek at Geonosis, but did not dwell on it, choosing instead to shake his weapon free of the dying alien and leap into the fray.

He landed in the middle of a group of four young knights trying to rush the left flank of his clones. Two were slain before they even realized he was there. The third was speared between the eyes as he turned to face him, and the fourth only managed to parry one stroke before Vader shoved both of their blades into his neck.

Letting the bodies fall, Vader found himself facing an Ithorian Jedi Master, circling him with a green blade. Vader knocked the elder Jedi's weapon away with one powerful strike, then flipped over him with blade trailing, cleaving the creature's elongated head in two. Vader landed smoothly, then turned to find a new victim.

The clones were doing exactly what soldiers of their caliber were expected to do: cut off their enemies' escape, and systematically annihilate them. Clones were moving in groups of four towards the various exits, clearing the way with streams of blaster fire and concussive grenades. Thus far, the Jedi were holding their own, and were not at all inclined to retreat. That would change soon.

A young padawan, about sixteen, sprang from the upper stairwell towards two of the clone groups converging on the entrance to the mess hall. He landed in their path, and before they could get their blasters up, sliced off three of their heads. The clones did not dodge out of the way, but loosed their fire at him. One launched a concussion grenade. The padawan deflected the bolts, and sent the grenade flying back towards its owner, causing an explosion that wiped out three more clones. The padawan slashed the nearest commando across the chest, then leapt into the air, came down on the other side of the last clone, and beheaded him. Eyes shining with triumph, he spun his blade in a circle, spun around to find another melee – just in time to see Vader's blade sweeping down towards his neck.

The Dark Lord shook his head at the slain padawan. He had gotten overconfident, started showboating, let down his guard, and it had cost him.

His hidden eyes scanned the hall. Jedi and clones were falling left and right. The clones had established a solid perimeter, allowing reinforcements to enter the antechamber. A collection of Jedi was retreating down the side halls, leaving a path of slain clones in their wake. The mess hall had been overrun by his forces, its occupants slaughtered. Vanguard teams of ARC troopers were now heading up the stairs and down the large side corridors, heading for the dormitories, the command center, and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Vader was about to follow the large group of Jedi, when another door caught his eye, the one leading to the Archive Chamber. The room was soundproof. Its occupants would be unsuspecting, yet dangerous. Too dangerous for anything but a fully equipped battalion of heavy troopers. Or one vengeful Sith Lord.

Without signaling for any support, Vader headed for the Archives.

* * *

Darth Sidious leaned back in his chair in the Sith Command Center and watched the carnage on the monitors. Delightful. Absolutely delightful. What he wouldn't give to be in that Temple now, surrounded by dead and dying Jedi, basking in the glow of his triumph. But it would not do to bloody his hands in so public and obvious a setting, when he was going to turn this against the Jedi later. In addition, he had already slain three Jedi Masters, wounded a fourth, and in doing so suffered an aggravating gash on his side, which was causing him substantial annoyance. So instead, he watched his new apprentice tear his former allies apart. 

Lord Vader was having quite a field day. At least a dozen Jedi had already fallen to his blade, including the Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Yes, his apprentice would have gotten substantial enjoyment out of that one. But his hour was not over; Sidious knew for a fact that at least two other members of the Jedi Council were still in the Temple.

As for the others … well, he would take care of them now.

Sidious swiveled to face another monitor, then entered a few commands. A scaled hologram of a Clone Commander rose before him. "Yes, sir?"

"Commander Bacara," Sidious said malevolently. "The time has come. Execute Order Sixty-Six."

The clone nodded. "It will be done, My Lord."

The image winked out. Sidious pressed another button to route the recording to every clone commander on the Outer Rim worlds, then leaned forward and opened a few more monitors. He didn't want to miss one minute of this.

* * *

On the frozen crystal world of Mygeeto, a battle was raging. Near the entrance to a vast fortress, a hundred clone troopers battled furiously with the battle droids and turrets constantly rising in their path. Gunships dueled with droid starfighters overhead, occasionally breaking free to make a strafing run at the platform, clearing space for an advance. 

In the front ranks of the clones, Jedi Master Ki-Adi Mundi led the charge. His blade moved flawlessly, deflecting blaster bolts and destroying droids. He kept his eyes focused on the vast door to the fortress. This was the final step. They had already taken six of these all over the planet. If they could conquer this seventh and final fortress, then Mygeeto would fall to the Republic.

Another strafing run blasted droids into the air, clearing a stretch of fifty meters, almost leading to the door. Ki-Adi Mundi lowered his lightsaber and beckoned to his troops. "Come on!"

Commander Bacara signaled an affirmative and directed his troops to charge after their Jedi Master. Simultaneously, he brought his wrist communicator up to his face, likely receiving some update from the infiltration squad currently digging into the fortress from the side. Mundi turned back towards the door and led the daring charge, the commandos thundering in his wake.

Then, three quarters of the way to the door, their footsteps stopped.

Mundi whirled around to see what had caused the halt, expecting that some disaster had befallen. He found himself looking down the barrels of twenty heavy assault rifles his own troops had aimed directly at his heart. Mundi had less than a second to register the numb horror of betrayal before the clones opened fire.

He succeeded in blocking most of the first wave of bolts, sending killing energy back at his own soldiers, cutting them down. Then a fresh round of fire came at him, too fast and from too many directions. A high-powered beam caught his lightsaber arm, blowing it off at the elbow. Agony exploded from the severed nerves, and Mundi fell to his knees. Mercilessly aimed shots took him in his unprotected chest and stomach, ripping new holes. Mundi's eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the ground, the brief agony giving way to the icy nothingness of death.

The clone troops continued their rush of the door, trampling the dead body of their former commander as though nothing had happened, while the gunships came flying in for another pass, incinerating the remains into ash which was carried away by a bitter Mygeeto wind.

* * *

Aalya Secura was marching through the dense fungal forests of Felucia, along with her victorious troops. They had just shattered a major Separatist outpost, serious damaging the Confederacy's already weak hold on the planet. Only a few isolated patrols of droids now threatened this region. 

Commander Bly, Aayla's second-in-command and her closest confidant in the division, suddenly touched her arm gently and signaled with a jerk of his head the path in front of them. It seemed quiet, but months of campaigning together and they knew the signs. Something was lying in wait ahead.

Aayla turned to question Bly, but he was conversing with someone over his comlick. Instead, she reached out with the Force. It was most likely droids, but it could also be one of Felucia's many large carnivorous beasts. She couldn't tell which; but whatever it was, there were more than one of them.

Bly said something she didn't catch, then turned off his comlick. Aalya beckoned him forward, not turning around. "Bly, do you think they're droids?"

The clone did not move, but pulled out his weapon. "No."

Before Aalya could ask for clarification, a searing pain erupted in her back. She pitched forward and dropped her lightsaber. As she fell, she turned her head to see Commander Bly holding his smoking rifle leveled at her back. Aalya tried to speak, but blood filled her mouth. Her eyes began to glass over as they fixed on Bly's expressionless mask, and the even more mask-like face underneath it. Then the other clones opened fire on her helpless body, sending her into the eternal blackness.

* * *

Yoda was running along the wooden landing platform with Chewbacca and Tarfull when suddenly agony exploded in his consciousness. His gimer stick fell to the ground as Yoda stumbled and sank to his knees, the unexpected shock too much for even him to bear. He clawed at his chest, but the pain did not originate there. It felt as though dozens of people he had known and cared for had suddenly met a horrible death. Their screams blended into one voice inside Yoda's head, drowning out all rational thought. 

The diminutive Master suddenly found himself raised by Chewbacca's strong paw, while Tarfull woofed a concerned question. Yoda wanted to speak, but failed. He shook free of Chewbacca and headed for the command center, moving twice as fast as before.

_Something terrible is happening._

* * *

Quinlan Vos stood on top of a Clone Turbo Tank, racing towards the red skyline of Boz Pity. Two other tanks flanked his, on the left and the right, bearing as his did a multitude of clone troops headed for the front line. The wind streamed through Vos's long hair, obscuring his gaze briefly as he stared intently at the distant signs of the battle kilometers ahead. 

A warning flashed into his mind, two threats materializing on his right and his left. The two tanks flanking his pulled away and swung their gun barrels towards his tank. Before Vos could react, the tanks fired, supercharged lasers converging on his vehicle.

The tank exploded in a huge fireball, blowing Vos's body and the bodies of the clones in his tank ten meters into the air. The other two tanks roared off towards the battle while the burning remains of the Jedi Master's veered off into the empty plain, leaving the corpses of the forsaken behind.

* * *

On Saleucami, Stass Allie raced forward on her speeder bike with her scout team, looking for any signs of resistance. She had been left behind has part of a mop-up group on the key Outer Rim world. Any Separatist holdouts had to be neutralized. 

Suddenly, her two clone escorts dropped off. She kept going, unconcerned. They must have spotted something. She would swing around and meet them.

Before she could bank, however, blaster bolts came flying from behind. One struck her speeder, sending it carrening out of control. Stass Allie only had time to see her own troopers targeting her before she crashed into an unforgiving stone pillar, and was blown away.

* * *

The dense clouds of Cato Nemoidia parted to reveal the embattled airborne fortress of the Trade Federation. Plo Koon and his wingmates soared towards the nearest landing platform, taking out droid starfighters as they went. Koon's voice crackled over the channel, directing his wingmates to cover him as he landed on the platform. 

The leader keyed an affirmative and moved into the cover position. His comm display crackled to life, showing a hooded, malevolent figure.

"Execute Order Sixty-Six."

The clone nodded. "It will be done, My Lord."

He pulled out of the cover position to directly behind Koon's ship and opened fire. The blasts tore through the Jedi Master's shields and struck the engine, sending the fighter spiraling out of control. Koon's ship crashed into the landing platform, causing an explosion which tore the starfighter apart.

The clone pilot keyed his comm unit, addressing his fellows. "Objective accomplished. Stand by for further orders."

* * *

The door to the Archives had been shut. That wasn't enough to keep Vader down for long. Bypassing the complicated locking mechanism with the Force, he marched right into the heart of the Jedi's treasure. 

The many young padawans and knights in the library looked up and the sound of the door being thrown open and tensed at the sight of the malevolent figure who had materialized in the midst of their sacred hall.

Vader did not draw his lightsaber, but walked right to the center of the hall. The young Jedi, ranging from ages four to twenty, slowly backed away. Those who had lightsabers gripped them tightly. The standoff was broken when Madame Jocasta Nu barged through the line of Jedi and confronted Vader.

"You!" she exclaimed. "Foul plague of darkness! Leave now and be gone! How _dare_ you defile this sacred Temple!"

Vader did not retaliate with harsh words. He did not speak at all. Instead, under his hood, his mouth curled into a truly savage smile.

He raised a hand as if offering peace. He left it hanging in air for a moment, then violently thrust it forward.

Jocasta Nu was gathered into the air like a helpless doll and hurled twenty meters to collide with one of the far shelves at tremendous speed. There was an absolutely sickening crunch as she hit the unforgiving metal and her spine shattered. Blood poured from her nose and mouth, and the ancient Jedi librarian slid to the floor and collapsed in a broken heap.

The air went out of the room in a frozen gasp. For a moment there was a deathly silence. Then all hell broke loose.

The older Jedi Knights herded the young padawans away from Vader, while the other knights and hardier padawans rushed the Sith Lord. Vader took a few steps back, seemingly prepared to turn tail and run. But running was the furthest thing from his mind. Reaching out with the Force, he seized the locking mechanism of the door and bolted it firmly shut from the outside, locking all the Jedi in the room with him. Then he ceased retreating, and met the charge head on.

The killing began.

* * *

A loud explosion jolted Siri Tachi from an uneasy sleep. She leapt up so fast that she struck her head on the hanging lamp above her bed. Rubbing her bruised skull, she looked around for the source of the disturbance. Her quarters were perfectly in order, nothing at all was out of place. Siri was about to la back down when another explosion sounded outside her door, much closer this time. In addition, she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps running past. 

Siri jumped from her bed, pulled on a Jedi robe, and seized her lightsaber from the bedside table. She ran out into the hall. Contrary to what she had expected, it was deserted. Well, not exactly deserted …

Bodies littered the floor. Several clone troopers lay motionless on the ground, with scars from a lightsaber on their chests. Siri dropped to her knee to examine on of them. Definitely a lightsaber wound. But why? Why would a Jedi kill a clone?

As she rose up, she saw another figure huddled against the wall, motionless, and dressed in Jedi robes. Siri quickly crossed over to the figure, a brightly colored Mon Calamari female. "Bant?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

Bant did not respond. Impatiently, Siri tugged her robes and turned her around to face her. Bant toppled forward onto her, gaping blaster wounds in her chest, her face frozen in death.

Siri raised both hands to her mouth to stifle a scream, letting the body of her friend fall to the ground. Heedless of caution, she ran off down the corridor to get away from the terrible scene. She rounded the corner … and found herself face to face with a battalion of clone troopers.

Without warning, the clones opened fire. Siri ducked back around the corner to avoid the bolts. The clones followed her around, firing incessantly. Siri ran blindly back down the corridor, clones pursuing hard in her wake.

* * *

One by one, he cut them down. 

At first they came hard and fast, eager to avenge the archivemaster he had so ruthlessly slain. All young, strong and determined. All brash and overconfident. All their faces going from determination to fear when they realized what they were up against. All their fear being washed away by pain as Vader's blade found their hearts.

Despite being outnumbered at least thirty to one, Vader did not let himself be contained. He was everywhere at one, just as his anger was channeled to every corner of his being, filling his limbs with power. Every strike was a killing blow.

He struck out with his blade, cutting down two of the vanguard Jedi before the reached him. Pivoting to face his flank, he launched an onslaught which drove right through the guard of his enemies. Leaping into the unprotected heart of their formation, he struck them down.

He bounded into the air, killing two more Jedi before he landed. A quick shove with the Force knocked Jedi out of his path, clearing himself a landing space. A stronger push followed, sending a few colliding hard with the nearest wall.

Vader traded blows for a minute with a hulking Weequay before he drew his opponent guard high and cut his legs out from under him. Ignoring the creature's spasms, he struck out with a free hand, crushing the windpipe of a nearby Rodian, then drove his blade into the side of a blond haired human male. Then he turned and with a quick downward strike, put the writhing alien out of his misery.

More Jedi leapt up to take the place of their fallen comrades. Vader cut them all down, heedless of race, sex, or age. His face was a mask of deadly determination as he performed his bloody work.

Soon, none were trying to stand against him. All were trying to flee. But Vader would have none of that. Catching up to three Jedi who were attempting to force open the locked door, he stabbed them all one by one. Someone launched a large fragment of debris at him, intending to crush him against the door. Vader halted the projectile with contemptuous ease, then jerked the offender out of his hiding place, lifted him into the air with the Force, and crushed him into a ball. Dropping the sad remains, he jumped back to the center of the room.

Despite his ruthless exterior, his mind was alive with conflict. Even as he massacred his former allies, part of him he had thought buried screamed at him that this was wrong, that this was evil. He had no answers of his own to give. Instead, he let Lord Sidious's mantra fill his head, holding it as justification for his necessary actions.

A human male, no older than eighteen, rushed him, tears running down his face, all Jedi dignity forgotten while he screamed promises of vengeance.

_Do what must be done, Lord Vader._

Vader met the mad rush, battered through the boy's unsteady defenses, and stabbed him through the heart.

A group of older Knights and Masters were trying to herd some of the younger Jedi through the maze of shelves towards an emergency exit. Many of the young Padawans were in hysterics, and their masters tried to calm them while looking fearfully over their shoulders for signs of pursuit.

_Do not hesitate._

Vader reached into the Force and pulled down a massive nearby shelf, crushing them all.

A young female padawan, fourteen at most, ran past Vader, lightsaber discarded, eyes streaming with tears so thick she could barely she where she was going. She ran for the massive door, clearly unaware it was locked. Vader did not strike at her. He let her pass. The girl ran towards apparent freedom.

_Show no mercy._

Vader turned and hurled his blade at the fleeing girl, taking her through the chest. The padawan gasped, slid to the floor, and did not get up again.

Vader summoned his lightsaber to him and scanned the Archives. There was no one left to fight. The surviving Jedi had indiscriminately cut their way through the walls and fled rather than face his wrath, so Vader was standing in a morgue.

The shelf he had brought down had torn a hole in the wall, opening a path to the corridor leading to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Vader ducked through the hole and followed the corridor.

A pitched battle was raging in the sacred room, both on the ground and on the extensive network of catwalks above. Dead bodies of clones and Jedi were strewn everywhere; many who were slain of the catwalks fell into the reflecting pool far below. Several fountains had been shut off, their pipes blown by stray fire or clogged by the dead. Though the Jedi were fighting valiantly, it was clear the clones had the upper hand. There was little for him to do here.

Vader was about to leave and head for the gardens when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A Jedi, cloaked in the robes of a master, struck down two clones blocking off an adjacent exit and fled down the open pathway. Vader caught only a brief glimpse of the Jedi's face, but that was enough. It was him. The object of his most intense hatred. The architect of his betrayal. The Jedi Master was fleeing the lost battle, cutting out and heading in a direction that could lead to only one place.

Vader activated his comlick. "Echo squadron, this is Vader. I want you to blow all the escape tunnels. Now!"

"Right away, sir."

Vader placed his comlick back on his belt. Signaling a detachment of ARC troopers to follow him, Vader sprinted off after his archenemy.

Pablo-Jill would not escape.

* * *

Circling above the Jedi Temple, the clone commander in charge of Echo Squadron gave the conference call. "You heard our orders. Target the tunnels." 

The escape tunnels from the Jedi Temple were one of the most closely guarded secrets of the ancient building. Almost no non-Jedi knew about them. They lead from a concealed corridor on the ground floor to exits directly below the gardens. The tunnels had been instrumental in the Jedi retaking the Temple when the Sith had captured it two thousand years before. The secret had been lost to the Sith. But recently, it had been disclosed by Lord Vader.

Twenty concussion missiles flew from the squadron's launchers toward the hidden entrances. Twenty proton torpedoes followed. The foremost gunships also opened up with their high powered lasers. Successive waves of destruction raced towards the tunnel mouths.

The first missiles to hit did not cause visible damage, but few structures in the galaxy could withstand forty direct hits with the highest grade military weapons available, and the Jedi Temple was not one of them. A tremendous explosion shook the entire building, incinerating the magnificent gardens and bringing several tons of rubble crashing down over the exits to the tunnels, an obstruction that would take twenty construction droids months to remove. No Jedi were escaping by that route.

"Objective complete," one wing radioed in. "Give us another target."

"Lord Vader hinted that the spires might be concentrations for popular resistance."

As if to prove the commander's point, a large chunk of stone lifted into the air and shot towards one of the gunships, clipping off a wing and sending it out of control. A heat scan revealed at least three Jedi in one spire, working together to target the squadron.

The commander primed his ships's weapons. "Let them have it, men!"

Another wave of missiles streaked towards the spire's base. The explosion tore through the support structure, overbalancing the entire column. The spire tilted for a moment, then buckled inwards, crashing on the roof of the Temple.

"Threat eliminated. Hostile survival rate, zero."

The clone commander nodded. "Maximum efficiency. Take down the other three, leave the main one, and then stand by for further orders."

* * *

Yoda staggered into the communications center, set on a wroshyr platform high above the lagoon, and switched on a console. The platform was deserted, all clones having been summoned to the roundup. Yoda adjusted the frequency to the Jedi Temple's signal and began calling. 

"Is anyone there? Come in, if hear me, you can."

There was no response. Nothing but the incessant crackling of static. Yoda adjusted the dial and tried again, using the emergency wavelength. Still nothing but static.

Worry rising rapidly in his chest, Yoda adjusted the dial to other battle channels. "Master Mundi? Master Koon? Are you there?"

He heard no response. With increasing urgency, Yoda adjusted the channel again, trying to find someone, anyone … but hearing no one.

Commander Gree landed his speeder smoothly at the communications center. The battle was over, and the ground commander had reported no signs of resistance from the captured separatists and mercenaries. They seemed resigned to their fate. He was eager to give this report to Master Yoda. The Jedi had left so quickly that Gree had not really thought about what could have provoked it, but now he was slightly worried.

He and his lieutenant jumped from the speeder and jogged towards the consoles, where he could see Yoda and the two Wookies. Just before he reached them, however, a message came through on his visual communicator. Gree activated it. "Sir?"

He and the lieutenant found themselves staring at the hooded figure of Lord Sidious. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

All previous concerns where washed from Gree's mind as the genetic programming that had lain dormant for thirteen years kicked in. The Jedi had betrayed the Republic. They needed to be stopped.

Gree nodded. "It will be done, My Lord."

With new purpose, he marched towards Yoda. The traitor sat unsuspectingly at his console, frantically trying to reach one of his fellow conspirators. Gree could not give him that chance. He pulled his blaster from his belt and advanced, till he stood right behind Yoda. With a nod to his lieutenant, he prepared to fire.

Yoda, engrossed in his desperate work, did not see the clones enter. He did not see Gree pull out his blaster, or the nod he gave the lieutenant, or the smooth motion of the two aiming their weapons at his back. He did not see their fingers grasp the triggers and pull.

But he felt …

Just as the deadly energy flew from the gun barrels, Yoda flipped backwards high over the clones' heads, pulled out his weapon, and beheaded them both before he hit the ground. The laser bolts struck the console where had been sitting a fraction of a second before, destroying it. The bodies of the two clones toppled to the deck.

Yoda surveyed them without malice or surprise. It was as he had feared. Something had gone wrong with the clones. The Jedi had been betrayed. Only the Sith could be responsible.

Chewbacca and Tarfull had come to the same conclusion. They shared a look, then offered a joint suggestion. Other clones would be coming soon; Yoda needed to get off-planet.

Yoda nodded his silent agreement. Leaping onto Chewbacca's back, he let the two Wookies select a path to climb down. Dignity would have to be sacrificed for speed.

* * *


	29. Vader's Revenge

Hello everyone! Sorry about the wait; I got distracted and forgot to post. So here's the next chapter, Part Two of the infamous Temple sequence. I feel compelled to warn you that the content of the chapter may disturb some of you, so read with caution.

Enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter 29**

Pablo-Jill ran through the long, twisting corridors of the lower level as fast as his legs would carry him. Unfortunately, that was not nearly as fast as he would have liked. Despite drawing on the Force, the long battle in the Room of a Thousand Fountains had exhausted him, and he had sustained several minor injuries. Worse was the fact that he could not breathe too deeply, because of the damage Skywalker had done to his trachea. Even now, he had to stop occasionally and draw on the Force to keep air moving to his lungs. With every spare breath, he cursed the Chosen One. Because of his insubordination, Pablo-Jill was made to suffer undeservedly.

But something else was replacing his aggravation with Skywalker. It was a feeling that had been faint moments ago, but was now rising to dominate his consciousness: cold fear. He was not worried too much about the clones he knew were following him; them he could handle. But there was something else nearby, a dark shadow that was unmistakably heading for him. This presence knew what he was doing, and occasionally sent him a mocking laugh that reverberated in Pablo-Jill's brain.

This was not an idle pursuit. He was being hunted.

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

Pablo-Jill was going through that progression right now. As his terror grew, so did his animosity at his hidden tormentor. That left only one stage left: suffering. And oh yes, that voice told him. He would suffer.

A sob caught in Pablo-Jill's throat as he ran blindly for the tunnels. The part of him that was the Jedi warrior was disgusted with what he was doing, fleeing while the battle raged. But it was a lost battle, he rationalized. If the Jedi were to survive, they would need the Council to provide leadership. Most of the masters were gone from the Temple, and from what he could gather through the Force, had suffered a similar betrayal. He had no idea what had befallen Master Windu or his team. Cin Drallig had disappeared. And Shaak Ti, he knew, had been brutally slain – likely by the same man that was pursuing him now.

He rounded a corner. The escape tunnels should be in sight by now. Just a few hundred yards more then …

Suddenly he stopped. He was facing a colossal wall of rubble. Pablo-Jill knew in a horrifying instant what had happened. His enemy had anticipated him, and blown the tunnels. He was trapped.

Loud footsteps began to echo down the hall from where he had come. There was no way out, save the way he had come, back towards the … monster that was pursuing him. In desperation, Pablo-Jill drew his lightsaber and began cutting into the rubble. No. Any way but that way …

Clone troops rounded the corner. Pablo-Jill increased his frantic hacking. It was useless. The clones leveled their blasters at him. He pulled his blade from the wall and faced them, ready to deflect the anticipated barrage of bolts.

"Stop."

The voice came from a cloaked man who had just appeared in the hall, lightsaber in hand. His face was hidden was a collection of shadows, but Pablo-Jill could see he was smiling. The smile of a predator who had his prey corned.

The man waved his troops back. "Leave this one to me."

The clones dropped back and formed a line, walling off the only exit. Pablo-Jill kept his lightsaber raised at the man's chest, though his arm shook badly. "Get back!"

The dark man continued to advance contemptuously. "Or what, Master Jill? You'll kill me? You can't even hold your weapon against me without quaking. Cowards like you have no place in the arena, save as a punishment for great crimes. This corridor, Master Jill, has become your arena."

"I have done nothing wrong!"

"Ah, of course," the dark man sneered. "You view your crusade to purge the Jedi Order of all undesirables as a noble one. Unfortunately, you never counted yourself among that group that needed to be cleansed. Had you truly wanted to serve justice, you would have killed yourself. But that is beyond you, so Fate has decreed that I be its instrument of justice."

Pablo-Jill's back touched the rubble, and his lightsaber fell from his grasp. "Who are you?"

The man's eyes flashed burning yellow. "One whose power is beyond your comprehension. One who has overcome the greatest hurt a man can suffer. I am Darth Vader. And I am here to take my revenge."

A blue blade sprang into existence. "Get up!" he snarled. "Take your weapon. Fight me now, and see if you can find the courage in what remains of your coward's heart to die with honor!"

Pablo-Jill picked up his blade. He slowly moved towards Vader, whose eyes were shining with savage eagerness. Summoning his strength, he struck.

The force of the parry sent him flying backwards into the rubble pile. Vader looked at him with disgust.

"Pitiful," he said. "Come on, Master Jill, even _you_ can do better than that."

Pablo-Jill picked himself up and rushed Vader again. This time, he did not give shoved back, but the force of every one of Vader's strike jarred his entire body painfully. After about ten hits, Vader knocked him down again. Pablo-Jill's lightsaber went flying out of his grasp. Defenseless, he scrambled backward.

Vader stood over him, his blade pointing at Jill's weapon two meters away. "Pick it up!"

Pablo-Jill dove for his blade, but only succeeded in knocking it further away. He summoned it to him with the Force and pulled himself to his feet. He raised his guard, but not quickly enough. He screamed as Vader's blade gashed his leg.

Vader backed off. Pablo-Jill, teeth clenched in pain, lunged at him with new determination. Vader, smirking, placed one hand behind his back and effortlessly blocked his enemy's two handed assault, sending the Ongree Jedi sprawling once again. Pablo-Jill launched himself from the floor, blade extended towards Vader's heart. The Dark Lord sidestepped and struck, hitting Pablo-Jill in the side.

Jill collapsed on the floor, spasms of pain wracking his body. Vader had cruelly measured his stab just enough that it did not hit any vital organs, but drove in deep enough to cause excruciating agony. The clones and their master watched the Jedi Master squirm, masks and face equally unforgiving.

The Jedi Master raised his head. "I can't … too much … kill me, please …"

"The lesson of pain is one that teaches a valuable lesson, Master Jill," Vader said quietly. "But not all are strong enough to survive it. You will die soon, never fear. But first, you must face the actions that have led you to this."

Pablo-Jill's breathing eased as the Force brought his pain down to manageable, but still great levels. "Actions?"

"Yes, Master Jill," Vader said coldly. "Here are the charges against you. You have broken the Jedi Code. You have formulated plots to eliminate members of the Jedi Order. You have conspired with enemies of the Republic. You gave them information, in exchange for secret support. You plotted to seize control of the Order, and fill it with your brain-washed puppets. You sold your own comrades to traitors, and in doing so, became one yourself." His voice rose. "Do you deny it?"

"Yes!" Pablo-Jill gasped. "These are blasphemous lies! I am a patriot!"

"You are _scum_," Vader snarled. "Unworthy to stand on the ground you profane. The evidence is indisputable; your guilt, undeniable. I give you once chance to repent. Do you take it?"

A fresh wave of pain and fear shook the Jedi Master. "Yes! Let me live! I repent it all!"

Vader's yellow eyes darkened and became hard as stone. "Liar."

He advanced on the grounded Master. Pablo-Jill seized his discarded weapon and ignited it. "Stay back!"

Vader raised his blade. Pablo-Jill threw his. Vader sidestepped it and brought it down, severing both of Pablo-Jill's arms at the elbows. A fresh scream tore from the Jedi Master and he contorted in pain. Ruthlessly, Vader seized his enemy by the throat and jammed his fist into the Jedi's ribcage. Pablo-Jill howled with unbelievable agony, but his cry was cut short as Vader struck him again. And again. And again.

Cracking sounds echoed in the corridor as one by one, Pablo-Jill's ribs broke under the ruthless hammering of Vader's armored fist. The Jedi Master was completely helpless, his arms severed, his already damaged insides being pummeled into a deformed mass. He could not even cry out, or scream for mercy from his tormentor. Vader hit him again, and blood spurted from Pablo-Jill's mouth, staining the Dark Lord's robes. Vader did not seem not notice, or even care. Pure hell streamed from the fiery pits in the blackness obscuring his face as the Lord of the Sith administered justice on the corrupt master.

Finally, he stopped hitting the Jedi and threw him against the wall, where he slid down, back propped up against the cold, unforgiving stone. Pablo-Jill looked up into Vader's equally cold, unforgiving eyes.

"It is done," Vader said with finality. "The pain you have caused so many people has been returned to you. Now, only one thing remains to complete your education in betrayal."

He pulled off his hood and let the mask of shadows fall. Pablo-Jill's eyes locked on his conqueror's face. His mouth fell open in horror. His eyes bulged. His yellow skin went whiter than the corpse he was about to become. A single, disbelieving word escaped his lips.

"_Kenobi!_"

With a snarl, Vader drove his blue blade into Pablo-Jill's heart. The Jedi Master gasped in agony one final time, then his eyes dulled and he slumped against the wall, completely destroyed.

Eyes blazing red with a murderous rage, Vader stood over the body of his betrayer, which was now no more than a lifeless shell.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is _dead_," he told the slain Jedi. "As are you."

* * *

Blaster bolts sang around Siri Tachi's head as she fought for her life. Every time she could she deflected a bolt back at the clones, decreasing their ranks by one. Their line was thinning noticeably, but Siri was tiring. She couldn't hold forever.

She wished bitterly that she had chosen a better place than the middle of the corridor to make her stand, but there was nothing for it now. Siri Tachi was going to have to summon her greatest will if she wanted to live.

Another clone went down, and another. Of course, it didn't faze those battle hardened soldiers at all. While the sight of all the bodies, Jedi and clone, made Siri sick to her stomach, the clones were inured to it. Despite their losses, they were confident they would defeat her. So confident, in fact, that several of them were peeling off back down the hall and forcing their way through another door. Siri's heart sank. They must have discovered another Jedi in hiding, and were going to cut him or her down, just like herself.

The clones forced open the door, and Siri sensed a surge of fear. Her breath froze. No, it couldn't be _children_ in there …

Urgency born of desperation lent new strength to her. She vaulted the picket line of clones and ran for the door, reaching into the Force as she did so. She pulled with all her power at the support columns of the ceiling, and after a few moments of resistance, they gave. A wall of rubble crashed down from the ceiling, blocking her from pursuit, at least temporarily.

Siri covered the remaining distance to the room, jumped through the door, and struck down the two startled clones with stabs to the chest just before they could fire at the terrified young boy and girl standing motionless in the center of the room.

Siri let the bodies of the clones fall, then deactivated her lightsaber. "It's okay," she whispered to them, gently putting her arms around their shoulders. "It's okay. You're safe now."

The young boy's eyes were wide as saucers as he stared over Siri's arm at the dead clones. "Did you kill them, Master Tachi?"

Siri tightened her hug. "Yes. I had to. They were going to hurt you."

"Why would they want to hurt us?"

"I don't know, honey," she said sadly. "But I promise I won't let any of them hurt you."

As she looked up, Siri saw that the boy and girl were not alone. At least a dozen more younglings of all kinds of species were emerging from hiding places behind chairs, or under tables. They came forward assembled themselves in an awkward line, trying to hold their chins up like they were proud and unafraid. It broke Siri's heart to see how some of them trembled.

"Come on," she told them. "Let's keep moving. This was a good hiding place, and you were very smart to stay here. But now that the clones found it, they will come back. We need to get you all to the escape tunnels."

A young alien girl with red skin and head tails stepped forward. "But we can't go that way, Master Tachi. Master Drallig said they blew the escape tunnels. We can't get out. That's why he told us to hide here."

Siri bit back an incredulous explanation. How had the clones known to blow the tunnels? They were some of the Temple's most closely kept secrets; no one but Jedi knew about them. The clones could never have stumbled across the exits, unless someone had told them where to look … Siri banished the thought. The idea of a traitor in the Temple being responsible for all of this made her sick. She could not dwell on it.

"Let me get this straight," she said angrily. "Master Drallig told you to hide here and then just left you? Alone?"

The youngling nodded. "He said that the clones had to be stopped. He went to fight them, I think. He promised to come back, but he hasn't."

Siri's anger evaporated. If that was the case, it was likely because Master Drallig was unable to return, not because he had abandoned his charges. That meant that the duty now fell to her. The tunnels were gone. But there had to be some other way out of the Temple.

"Let's go," she told the younglings. "It'll be alright. On my life, nothing is going to happen to you."

The children nodded and began to file towards the door, all except for one girl, with long brown tresses and expressive eyes. She was staring at the dead clones with a mixture of despair and deep confusion.

Siri touched her shoulder gently. "What is it, honey?"

The girl looked up at her. "Why would the clones try to kill us, Master Tachi? I thought they were our friends."

Siri sighed. "So did I, young one. So did I."

She led the girl back to the line, then opened the door and peered out. The hall was clear, but wouldn't be for long. She sensed clones coming from below. The Jedi must have lost the battle downstairs. That left nowhere to go but up.

The youngling's question still haunted her as she led here charges toward the stairwell, but Siri did not let herself dwell on it. She had a feeling she would know the answer soon enough.

* * *

Cin Drallig tried to stand up straight, but the surge of pain from his side wound was too much. He collapsed back against the wall of the Council Chamber, panting. Beside him, his two young companions, the Jedi Padawans Whie and Scout, looked on in concern. "Are you alright, Master Drallig?"

Cin braced himself against the window. "Yes, my friends. I am just a little shaken."

It was a lie. Cin Drallig had been battling furiously in the Main Hall and the Room of a Thousand Fountains ever since he had been roused from his bed. As his comrades fell around him one by one, Cin had refused to retreat to higher ground, attacking the clones when any hope of holding the lower floors had long been lost. Many dead clones littered the area where he had made his stand, but eventually they had outflanked him. He had taken a blast from a heavy assault rifle right in the side, and Whie and Scout had dragged him away from the battle to the Jedi Council Chamber, where they now sat.

Cin could feel his life blood slowly leaving through his ragged wound, but he still had strength in him. He would not die, at least until he could secure the future of the Jedi Order.

Whie turned to Scout and jerked his head toward the barricade the had made of the Council seats. "Get him a chair."

Cin shook his head. "No! The barricade must stay intact. We will need all the time we can if you two are to escape."

Whie frowned. "Escape! And leave the clones to ransack our home? I would rather die."

Scout piped in, her face every bit as determined as her friend's. "We're not leaving, Master Drallig."

Cin sighed. "My dear friends, you must think logically. The Temple is lost. If there is ever to be any hope of retaking it, some Jedi must survive. You two are strong, young, and destined to be great. I know you will carry on the legacy well. Now listen to me. I have succeeded in contacting an old friend to bring a speeder. They will pick you up here. Once they do, trust him and follow him to the Coruscant under levels. There, you will find support to aid you. If can get off planet, that would be optimal. But you must survive."

"And what about you?" Scout asked.

"I will stay here and cover your retreat."

Whie shook his head. "No. If we have to go, you're coming with us."

"I would only slow you down. You stand a much better chance if I am not there to burden you. And this Temple is where I belong. Master Windu entrusted it to me, and I have failed him. I will fight until the last."

Scout's eyes brimmed with tears. "Let us stand with you."

"Your path does not end here, my friend," Cin said gently. "The two of you are strong, but together you are even greater than the sum of their parts. Seldom has the Jedi Order seen such a bond between two individuals, and yours rivals the friendship of Kenobi and Skywalker. My heart goes with you. I implore you to fulfill this last request, and live."

Whie's eyes now had tears in them as well. "Alright, Master Drallig. We trust you. We will do as you ask."

Cin took both of his young friend's hands, placed them together, and clasped them in his own. "Peace and love upon you, my friends. I …" He broke off as a surge of darkness passed over him, a deadly presence coming towards them quickly.

Whie and Scout looked up as well, and fear sprang into Scout's eyes. "It's him," she whispered. "That _demon_. The Sith."

Cin dropped their hands and reached for his saber. "You need to leave now! The shuttle should be in sight. The barricade will hold until it can arrive."

Whie looked incredulous. "Master Drallig, what are you doing? You can't beat a Sith Lord like this!"

Cin smiled. "I do not have to beat him. I just have to hold him. Goodbye, Scout. Goodbye, Whie. May the Force …"

The barricade of Council chairs exploded outward from the door, smashing through the windows of the chamber and exposing it to the howling winds outside. The three Jedi huddled down to shield their faces from the jagged razors of transparisteel that flew about like daggers till they were blown out by the wind.

A cloaked man with blood staining his armor weave robes entered the room, lightsaber in hand and a terrifyingly calm smile visible on his face through the mask of shadows. The power that crackled around the Sith Lord was enormous; he seemed to have channeled a lightning storm to run through his veins, filling his entire being with a deadly energy.

"I heard you mention something about a speeder, Master Drallig," the dark man said carelessly. "Now, that couldn't _possibly_ be the one my troops just blew out of the sky two minutes ago, could it?"

Whie and Scout jumped to their feet and shielded Drallig. The Dark Lord paid them no heed, surveying what remained of the Council Chamber.

"Too well do I remember this place," he said. "It is fitting, in way. What evil started here …" his eyes alighted on Master Drallig. "Will now end here."

Anger tore at Whie's face. "The only evil that's going to end here is you!"

Vader turned to look at Whie, regarding the young Jedi as he might an irritating politician blocking his path. "Ah, Whie and Scout. The stories of your exploits with Master Yoda are well known throughout the Jedi, if a bit exaggerated. Stand aside. My quarrel is not with you."

Scout pointed her weapon at Vader's heart. "Was it with the other Jedi you left murdered in the Archives? Or in the Main Hall? Or the ones your clones killed in the Room of a Thousand Fountains?"

Vader laughed. "I have killed enough Jedi today to satisfy me, for a while. I will kill no more, after I commit one more act of justice."

Whie's eyes flashed to Master Drallig. "An act of justice? This is how you justify your atrocity?"

"Do you have any idea, Whie, the crimes the man you are sheltering has committed? He and the rest of the Council are guilty of conspiracy to overthrow the Republic. They are guilty of abusing their positions of trust and power. And worst of all .." Vader's eyes began to glow red with intense fury, "They are guilty of selling their own to their sworn enemies."

Scout looked taken aback, but she did not give ground. "You lie."

"You do not understand," Vader said coldly. "I am offering you life. Walk out of this room now, and you may live to walk out of this Temple. Stand here, and you will be cut down for obstructing justice."

Whie ignited his weapon. "We will die before we let you touch him!"

Vader shrugged and ignited his own blade. "As you wish."

Cin tried to yell a warning, but his voice died in his throat as his two young friends rushed the Sith Lord.

Vader batted away the heated first strikes of his two opponents with ease, then settled back into a defensive position and let them rain the blows down. Whie and Scout, communicating through their subconscious bond, orchestrated a cohesive assault designed to draw Vader's defenses out of position and to reinforce each other in finding a weakness. Vader gave them no weakness to find. Barely moving his blade, he blocked every single attack they threw at him.

After three minutes of this deadly game, Whie and Scout's attacks began to slow, as fatigue and recognition of futility set in. Cin sent them what strength he could, but his failing body could not give much.

Vader abruptly switched from defensive to offensive. The sheer power of his strikes drove both Whie and Scout back, their blades wildly abandoning form as they just tried to survive. Vader worked his way in between them, and Cin realized with a flash of horror the Sith Lord's goal. He was going to separate the two them, then finish them off individually.

"No!" He yelled. "Stay together! Stay together!"

Whie and Scout suddenly noticed how far apart they had drifted. Hastily, they tried to get back to each other again. But it was too late.

Vader delivered a vicious kick to Whie's abdomen, sending the young Jedi flying through the air to hit an unforgiving stone pillar, only sheer chance saving him from being kicked right out of the broken window. Whie fell to the floor, the breath knocked from his lungs, and intense pain racking his insides.

Scout screamed as she saw her best friend neutralized. With dispassionate ease, Vader turned and rushed her. Alone, Scout faced the full might of the Dark Lord.

She summoned every scrap of knowledge Yoda and Drallig had ever taught her, every lightsaber technique she had ever mastered, every bit of strength from deep inside herself. But she was still alone, and it was not enough.

One powerful strike sent her weapon flying out the window. Scout fell to her knees. Vader, no mercy in his yellow-flickering eyes, grabbed her by the throat and hurled her against the far wall. Scout's head struck it with a sickening crack. She slid to the floor and lay still.

"SCOUT!"

Whie, who had been watching helplessly as his friend fought for her life. His strength returned in a rush, and he leapt to his feet, seized his weapon, and rushed Vader. All form was abandoned as he let his rage at his best friend's death take over and guide him towards the Dark Lord.

Vader met him head on. Though Whie was now channeling the stronger side of the Force, he had no experience in doing so. The Dark Side only served those with the will to master it, and Whie was not thinking clearly enough to use it effectively. His rush was in vain.

Vader repulsed Whie's strikes, then knocked the maddened Jedi's defenses out of position with one well-placed strike. As Whie reeled backwards, Vader drove his blade into the young Jedi's stomach. The force of the strike carried the blade right through his body and into the wall behind him. Whie gasped in shock, disbelief etched on his face as he looked at the lightsaber now embedded in his flesh, then his eyes closed and he slumped against the wall. Vader pulled his blade free and let Whie's body fall on top of Scout's, uniting the two friends once more in death.

His gruesome work finished, Vader turned to face Master Drallig, who had watched the entire battle with helpless despair. "They should have taken their freedom. Loyalty is not a virtue if it serves the wrong cause."

Cin pulled himself to his full height, ignoring the immense pain from his blaster wound. He looked into the Dark Lord's shrouded face. "Why? Why are you doing this? What goal do you have that is so great that you need to sacrifice the innocent to get it?"

"Over thirty years worth of corruption, lies, and stolen freedom," Vader told him. "And that was just in my lifetime. The Force knows how long the great Jedi Order has been serving its own corrupt will instead of that of the Force. You have tainted the young minds of hundreds of your padawans, and billion of people across the galaxy. They cannot be saved. Hopefully, in death, the Force will forgive them. You, on the other hand, are at the nexus of this evil. You stand here now as the last Council member, an ill-gotten position as it is. Death only is the result of your sins. Therefore, death is what you shall receive."

Cin Drallig ignited his lightsaber. "I will stand against you to the last, fallen one."

Vader inclined his head. "I would expect no less of a once-great man."

He leapt at Drallig. Cin summoned the Force to aid him and met the Dark Lord head-on. Pain washed over him with every blow he parried, every strike he made. Yet still he stood tall and endured. The two warriors battled back and forth across the Jedi Council Chamber, which was now no more than an arena where gladiators dueled for the sport of the higher powers.

Vader's eyes still shone malicious yellow, but no longer did they have the pleasure that had marked them during his duel with Pablo-Jill. The look in his eyes now was one of a man absolutely set on fulfilling his duty. He did not toy with Drallig, as he had with Pablo-Jill. Every strike was meant toward the greater end of defeating his enemy, not causing senseless pain.

Soon, Master Drallig could bear the assault no longer. Blood was now openly falling from his previous wound, staining his robes and sapping his strength. He fell back near the broken window. Vader brought his blade down and severed Drallig's weapon arm, knocking it out into space. Drallig gasped, but did not scream. Instead, he looked up at the victorious Sith, resignation and acceptance in his eyes.

Vader picked him up by the neck and held him in front of the window. Cin looked down into Vader's shadowed face and his eyes, which were starting to fade from yellow back to blue. "So it ends here?"

"Yes," Vader told him. "It has come full circle."

"I don't understand," Drallig gasped. "How? Who are you?"

In response, Vader let the mask of shadows fall. As Drallig looked upon the now-familiar face, his skin went white and horrified disbelief crept into his eyes.

"_Impossible!_"

Vader shook his head and smiled knowingly. "With the power of the Dark Side, Master Drallig, nothing is impossible."

Before the Jedi Master could respond, Vader let him fall. The Dark Lord watched impassively as the body of Master Cin Drallig plummeted over a hundred stories from the highest spire of the Jedi Temple towards the dark streets far below.

* * *

"Almost there," Siri told the younglings. "We're almost free."

She helped the youngest among them ascend the last step onto the highest landing of the Jedi Temple below the spires. They had emerged near the elevator that led to the Jedi Council Chamber but Siri had no interest in that route. Her goal was the Temple roof. Many years ago as a young padawan she remember sneaking out of her room to go exploring in the Temple, and in doing so she had discovered an old abandoned ventilation system that led from the kitchens to the roof. She had climbed through it, and knew it would easily support all the younglings. The kitchens also happened to be right next to a disused street, so if she could cut through the wall there, she and the younglings could escape into the under levels. Since the kitchens had been one of the first areas to fall to the clones, and considering how heavy the fighting had been, Siri doubted there would be a heavy guard, if any. If there was, she would have to deal with it.

"I'm very proud of all of you," she told the younglings. "You're being so brave."

The little boy with blond hair and blue eyes looked up at her. "So are you, Master Tachi."

Siri smiled gratefully in response. She didn't know what to say; she had never been more frightened in her life.

"Come on," she beckoned the younglings. "The stairs to the roof are right around the corner."

The little girl with the tresses held up her hand. "Listen. Someone's coming."

Siri listened closely, but she could not hear any footsteps. They were not being followed. The only noise was the whirring of the turbolift machinery … wait. The turbolift was descending; someone was coming _down_.

Panic sprang into Siri's stomach. Instinct took over, and she seized the nearest younglings to her and shoved them through the closest open door she saw, which lead to a small conference room. Hastily she shepherded all the younglings into the room. The elevator was closer now. She addressed her charges.

"Stay in here. Keep absolutely quiet. Do you understand?"

The younglings nodded. Siri looked at them all one more time, then closed the door behind her. Pulling out her lightsaber, she ducked into the nearest alcove and hid behind a statue. Part of her wanted to stay with the younglings, but this was better. This way, she could protect them, and they had a better chance of going unnoticed.

The turbolift stopped, and the door slid open. A man stepped out onto the landing, dressed entirely in black, wearing a hood that obscured his face. There were dried stains of something that looked horribly like blood on his robes and on his gauntleted hands. But by far the most striking thing about him did not pertain to his appearance. Darkness seemed to be his embodiment. Shadows swirled around him, and when Siri looked at him with the Force, she could she the power crackling around him. She had no doubt. This was the man who was responsible for the carnage of the Temple. This was the one who had massacred the Jedi. He could only be a Sith Lord.

Siri's breathing quickened, and her heart pounded against her ribcage. Silently, she prayed to the Force that the dark man would pass her and the younglings by on the way to report to his master that the terrible deed he had been commissioned was done. But the man did not move. He seemed to have been turned to stone. He was gazing down at his blood-stained hands with an expression Siri could not discern. He remained like that for at least a minute, then he shuddered violently, and turned towards the stairwell.

Siri let out a small sigh of relief. Her fears had come to nothing. But suddenly the Dark Lord whirled around and pulled out his lightsaber, hidden eyes staring right at Siri's hiding place.

"What have we here?" he asked, in a voice that sounded terribly familiar to Siri. "Hiding, are we?"

Before Siri could react, and invisible hand took hold of her and jerked her from the alcove. Completely exposed, she faced down the nightmare man, who approached her slowly.

"Master Tachi," he said, with a degree of surprise. "How unexpected. I was told your residential wing was one of the first to be cleansed. Obviously, you are more resourceful than my troops anticipated. But if so, why are you cowering up here? That isn't like you at all."

He continued to advance as Siri fought back her own surprise and fear. "How do you know my …"

The man's face became visible as he stepped into a patch of moonlight. When Siri saw it, her lightsaber clattered to the ground. She covered her mouth with both hands, but even that was not enough to stifle the scream that tore from her mouth, shattering the silence of the landing.

Suddenly, her scream was cut off, along with all passage of air to her lungs. The man with Obi-Wan's face had his hand extended in a vice-like fist, using the Force to strangle her cry.

"Enough, Siri," he said coldly. "I have heard too much of that already."

The grip relaxed. Siri staggered backwards upon release, her gaze riveted upon the face she had known so well. "It can't be," she whispered, "No … it can't be … _Obi-Wan_!"

The Dark Lord's face contorted with annoyance. "You know, you are the fifth person to make that assumption today. I can assure that if I have my way, it will be the last. I am not Obi-Wan Kenobi; I am Darth Vader."

Siri didn't know what to do. She stopped retreating, but only because she had run out of room. If she went any further, she would not be able to stand between Vader and the door behind which the younglings were hidden. As subtly as she could, she positioned herself directly between Vader and the door. Not subtly enough. Vader's eyes alighted on the door.

"What are you hiding, Siri?" he hissed. "Something I should know?"

Siri shook her head furiously. "No. Nothing!"

"You're lying," Vader told her. "I do not enjoy being lied to."

He stepped towards her. Siri seized her weapon from the ground and ignited it, pointed its tip at him. "Get back!"

Vader halted, but did not retreat. "Or what, Siri?"

"Or I'll … I'll …"

"Kill me?" Vader laughed. "You are incapable. I know you too well; I would cut you down before you had even tried to strike. But I do not wish to; I have exacted enough justice today, and as Jedi go, you are relatively uncorrupt. I will allow you to leave, if you so wish. Of course, I cannot promise that my troops will not kill you, but that is their mandate, not mine."

Siri did not move, though her arms shook badly. "Why? Are you feeling guilty for all the Jedi you've killed today? Padawans! Your comrades! Obi-Wan, how _could_ you?"

Vader's face became terrible to behold. "How could I refuse to exact retribution on those who stole thirty years of my life, and then sold me to General Grievous? How could I not take the opportunity to make up for my mistake by defeating the greatest threat the Republic has ever faced? This is my hour, Siri!"

Siri's voice became hysterical. "Your hour? Your hour to become a murderer?"

Vader's voice dropped. "I have lost my patience, Siri. Leave my presence now, or I will have no choice but to kill you."

Siri shook her head. "No!"

Vader ignited his blue blade and crossed it with Siri's. "Then you will pay the price."

He swung at her. The blow was so strong that Siri's badly shaking arms nearly let the strike drive her own blade into her chest. Vader struck again. Siri managed to parry, but the aftershock left her reeling.

Vader came after her with ruthless precision. It was all Siri could do to keep her guard up. She prayed that the weakness she was feeling inside would disappear with battle, but if anything it was growing as she was forced to behold Vader's savage face.

"What happened to you, Obi-Wan?" she asked, even as she desperately batted aside another strike. "How could you join the Sith?"

Vader's eyes flashed at the mention of his old name. "Don't talk, Siri. Save your energy. You'll live longer."

"I _will_ talk!" Siri exclaimed passionately. "I have to know! My best friend vanished and has come back as my enemy. I deserve to know!"

Vader shoved her back. "You would not understand!"

"I don't care!" Siri cried. "I must know!"

Vader lunged at her again. Siri's parry had more force this time, gaining strength as she let her weakness into the open. The Dark Lord did let up his assault, but his voice became bitter and pained.

"Picture a dark cell, Siri, no bigger than a few square meters. Picture being kept in that cell for days, weeks, months, with no light and almost no connection to the outside world. You are separated from everything and everyone you have ever loved. Your only contact is your archenemy, the robotic scum you have hunted for three years, who comes solely to torment you. Imagine being tortured. Imagine your enemy mocking you incessantly, reminding you how you are completely in his power. The bitter realization when you discover how you came to be here, that the men and women you had considered your family for thirty years had sold you out for political reasons and consigned you to this hell. And imagine being helpless to do _anything_ about it, because you are chained, and the Force has been taken from you."

He jabbed at Siri again. She dodged it and leapt off the wall, clearing herself space. Vader engaged her again and continued.

"Now imagine that someone comes to you, someone you have long considered your enemy, but who offers you a chance at freedom. Would you take it? This person shows you how to find the hope and strength you believed you had lost. He teaches you how to break free of the all the bonds that have been placed on you. You become more powerful than ever before, strong enough to destroy your oppressor and restore justice to the system you had believed lost. You now have an opportunity to correct your mistake and take revenge on those who have lied to you and used you your entire life. You cannot understand. No one could understand, unless they had endured such agony. But I did, Siri. I have passed through the fire and it has changed me, giving me the power beyond what I ever thought possible, and the resolve to use it!"

Siri was stunned into silence. She could feel Vader's inner torments slicing into her own heart, how much he had suffered and how much he had lost. The pain was almost unbearable. Combined with Siri's own turmoil, it was enough to cause her to collapse. Only the need to protect the children kept her on her feet, or she would have been at Vader's mercy.

Yet, in the midst of the swirling agony, there was something else. Vader's guard had dropped for the briefest instant, and Siri had sensed something familiar, a flicker of the man she had known so well and would have gladly died for. That part of him hated what he was doing, was deeply saddened by the sight of her being so afraid and helpless, and wanted to stop it. The impulse was buried, smothered under many layers of darkness and resentment, but it was there. Siri had to reach it; she had to free Obi-Wan before it was too late.

Vader sensed her prying. The gap in his defenses immediately closed, and he struck so viscously that Siri went flying away from him, landing hard on the floor and losing her grip on her lightsaber. She scrambled to her feet and reached out for her weapon. It rose into the air and soared … right into Vader's outstretched hand.

Summoning the power of the Dark Side into his grip, Vader crushed Siri's weapon. He tossed aside the remains and advanced on her. Siri did not retreat. She stood tall in the middle of the corridor, head raised and back erect. Vader stopped a meter from her and raised the tip of his weapon to her throat. "You are finished, Siri."

Siri looked hard into Vader's eyes. "Stop it, Obi-Wan. This isn't you."

A deep growl rolled it Vader's throat. "Do not speak that name to me."

"It is your name," Siri said calmly, though her voice betrayed her tension, "Whether you believe it or not. The man I am looking at now is not Obi-Wan Kenobi, but I know that he still lives in there, seeking to overcome this dark fiend that has possessed him. I am speaking to him now."

Vader laughed. "You are speaking to a ghost, Siri. If you wish to talk to your dear departed Obi-Wan in the after-life, that can be arranged."

Siri ignored him. "Obi-Wan, listen to me. Think about what you are doing. It is Sidious who is using you, not the Jedi. Whatever wrongs you may have suffered, he is turning them to his advantage. Don't let him. Fight it!"

Vader smiled. "Do you really believe that after all I have endured I would let Lord Sidious use me against my will? I serve him because it suits my purpose."

Siri tried another tactic. "Anakin. Think about Anakin, what this will do to him. You're his mentor, his best friend. You mean so much to him. Can you imagine what will happen when he sees you like this?"

"Indeed I can, Siri. Anakin is the only one who will understand what I have done. The ills he has suffered at the hands of the Jedi Order rival my own. He has only remained loyal because of subversive threats to his wife. Now that that threat has been eliminated, he will follow his instinct and join me."

Siri bit back a surprised exclamation. It was obvious who Vader was talking about; she didn't know why she couldn't have seen it before. But it only strengthened her conviction against Vader's statements.

"Anakin would never join the Dark Side! Not when he has so much to lose."

Vader smiled. "In his heart, Anakin has already joined us," he said coldly. "Soon, he will realize it."

Siri's desperation started to grow. But she could not show weakness now. "What about the Jedi? Could you ever come back?"

"I can never go back to the Jedi," Vader told her. "I have done too much, and so have they. It cannot be forgotten. It cannot be forgiven."

"You underestimate the Jedi's compassion and understanding, Obi-Wan," Siri said. "Something I would never have expected of you. They will forgive you."

"I do not want forgiveness, Siri," Vader told her. "I want retribution."

"I don't believe you."

Vader's tone became irritated. "Why do you even care, Siri? You abandoned Obi-Wan with the rest of the Jedi."

"NO!" Siri cried. "I would never have abandoned you, Obi-Wan! You were my best friend. I trusted you! I loved you!"

Vader stepped back, startled, but quickly recovered. "Then you are a fool."

"Maybe," Siri exclaimed. "Maybe I am a fool for believing that compassion can save someone. But you know what? I don't care. The Jedi are wrong; love is the greatest agent of good in this universe."

Vader laughed. "A woman who loved Obi-Wan tried to convince me of that a while ago. I know better. Love is strong, but it is not all-powerful."

"She was right, Obi-Wan. Whoever she is, she is very wise. And I can prove it to you."

She stepped forward till she and Vader were centimeters apart. Vader leveled his blade right at her neck. Siri tilted her head back, exposing the veins that conducted her life blood. "Do it, Vader. If the Dark Side is as powerful as you claim, kill me now. You will have shown your resolve. But I know that if there is any trace of the man you once were in your heart, you won't do it. You won't be able to. For even oppressed as he is, Obi-Wan Kenobi is still stronger than you will ever be."

Vader raised an eyebrow. "You really think that after all the Jedi I've killed today I won't be able to kill you?"

Siri smiled. "I don't think. I know."

Vader moved the point of his blade closer and closer to Siri's neck, until it was almost touching her skin. It was so easy. With a flick of his wrist, he could cut her jugular and let her bleed out right in front of him. With a harder push, he could behead her completely. But something held him back. Vader tried to move his blade that last distance, but his arms would not respond to his will. It was almost as if someone inside him had seized control, and was keeping him at bay.

A gleam of triumph shone in Siri's eyes. "I was right. You are still in there, Obi-Wan. Thank you."

Vader shook himself as though coming out of a deep daze. He looked at the brave, smiling woman before him and struggled to find his voice. "Siri, I …"

Alarms blared in his mind. He could hear heavy footsteps, coming this way, entering the corridor, weapons raised. Vader opened his mouth to warn Siri, but it was too late. Clone troops came around the corner and spotted them. Without any hesitation, they aimed their weapons and fired.

Vader saw Siri's face go from triumphant to pained as six laser bolts streaked down the corridor and hit her in the back. Her eyes remained fixed on Vader's face, even as the surprise filtered into resigned acceptance and her life blood began to pour out of the ragged wounds. She stumbled forward and fell into Vader's arms. He held her up as her breathing began to slow. She coughed, then whispered something he barely managed to catch.

"Obi-Wan … I … I forgive you …"

Then her breathing faded, and she went limp in his arms.

Commander Tarc lowered his smoking blaster rifle and advanced towards the Sith Lord, who was holding the small body of the Jedi Knight in his arms. He appeared slightly taken aback at the situation, but dismissed the attitude and saluted. "Are you alright, Sir?"

Vader did not respond, looking down at Siri's lifeless body with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sir?"

Vader's head snapped up. "Yes, Commander. I am unhurt."

Tarc nodded approvingly. "Excellent, Sir. I am here to report that all areas have been secured and all hostiles neutralized. The rear guard is mopping up now. The Temple is ours."

Vader nodded. "Good."

Tarc jerked his head back towards the stairwell. "We should go, Sir. We have to prepare … what's that?"

Noises were coming from behind a locked door, indistinct voices and clattering. Something alive was inside.

Tarc made straight for the door, but Vader held up a hand. "No. Let me."

He gently set Siri's body down and crossed the hall towards the door. He let the Force guide his hands with the combination, and the door slid open.

Vader found himself looking down at a young boy with blond hair and blue eyes, no older than six at the most, looking up at him with a frightened expression on his face. When he saw the face under the hood, however, his fear evaporated. "It's Master Kenobi!"

Other younglings emerged from their hiding places, clambering eagerly to greet their apparent savior. They gazed up at him with hero worship.

The boy spoke again. "We thought you were gone, Master Kenobi. The Masters said that you'd gone away, but we knew that you …"

He saw Tarc's helmeted head behind Vader and shrank back. "Master Kenobi, look out!"

Vader turned his head. Tarc stepped up beside him. "Young Jedi, Sir. Minimal threat, but Lord Sidious's orders were absolute. Do you want to handle this?"

Vader turned back to look at the younglings, who looked extremely confused. A girl with brown tresses piped up. "Fight him, Master Kenobi! He's no match for you."

Tarc ignored her impudence. "Sir? Should you do it, or should we?"

Vader let his gaze pass over all the younglings, about twenty in all, off several different species. None of them were older than six. Tarc was right; they posed little threat. But they were Jedi. And Lord Sidious had been clear: all the Jedi must be exterminated.

Still, Vader hesitated. They were so young, so trusting. They way that they looked at him shook his to his iron-braced core. They had not been the ones who had betrayed him. They had nothing to do with the corrupt conspiracies of the Jedi Council. They were completely innocent of any crime … except they were Jedi.

_Do not hesitate. Show no mercy._

He was hesitating. He was considering showing mercy. Sidious would be furious if he knew. But if Vader could persuade him, perhaps have the children be trained as lesser Dark Side disciples, the Dark Lord might be willing to spare them.

No … he already had his two apprentices selected; what would he want with twenty? They would grow up to be even greater threats to him. That was why he wanted them dead now. Vader had already killed children in his rampage, but they had been older, with at least a chance of defending themselves. The younglings before him now were helpless.

The young boy with the blue eyes … that must have been what Anakin looked like when he was that age. The girl with the tresses must have resembled Padmé, or Sabé. All of them had parents somewhere, totally unaware of the peril their child was facing.

He couldn't do it.

Lord Sidious's mantra came into his mind again, relentlessly chanting the words of doom that had guided him up till now. He had to do it. The Jedi would destroy the Republic, and in a few years these padawans would be Knights capable of waging a civil war.

Siri had forgiven him … but could he forgive himself for this? Could Anakin? Could Sabé? He remembered that Anakin had slaughtered Tusken Raiders on Tatoonie, some of them infants and young children. That had supposedly been justified. Was that the case here? And why did he even care? He was a Sith Lord; nothing was more important than ensuring his power. Nothing else should matter.

Tarc was waiting for an answer. Lord Sidious was waiting for an answer. The younglings were waiting for an answer. Vader had no answer to give. He only had his mission, a mission that needed to be fulfilled at all costs.

"Lord Vader?"

Vader closed his eyes. "Do what must be done, Commander."

Tarc saluted. "Yes, Sir."

He stepped past Vader, grabbed the young boy by the arm, and pulled him out of the room. The boy yelled for Vader to help, but Vader did not move. All his strength had left him.

Other troops filed into the room and began dragging the children out. The girl with the long brown hair tried to punch the clone who held her, to no effect. Vader let them all go by, eyes still closed, standing the doorway of the now-empty room.

Tarc did not appear fazed by what he had witnessed. "Lord Sidious has left a message, Sir. He wants you to contact him at the earliest opportunity."

Vader nodded and opened his eyes. "I'll do that."

Tarc saluted and moved back over towards the assembled younglings, who were being lined up execution-style against the wall. One of the padawans tried to catch Vader's eye. He looked away.

Silently, he walked the other way down the corridor towards the stairwell. He stopped for a moment near Siri's body. His knee flexed, as though he wanted to bend down, but he mastered himself. Stepping over her, he continued on.

His own desires for vengeance now seemed hollow. Vader had no doubt that in time they would be rekindled, but at the moment the fire that had filled him during his storm through the Archives, his torture of Pablo-Jill, and the confrontation in the Jedi Council Chamber was no more than a pile of cold ashes. He felt empty, no longer one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, but a shell of a man who could not stand what he had done.

As the sound of blasterfire echoed throughout the hall, a single tear trickled down Darth Vader's face.

* * *

Yes, it's very sad. But it had to happen. You will see how this affects Vader and others in the coming posts. 


	30. The Trap Is Set

**I will be going on vaction for a week starting tomorrow, so don't expect an update until next Wednesday at the earliest.**

**No furtherpretense. Straight to the post.**

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* * *

Chapter 31**

The fire burned across Bail Organa's field of vision. Roaring towards the darkened Coruscant sky, it poured black smoke into the night. Instead of dispersing, it hung over the Jedi Temple like a stain, a defiling mark on what had been the greatest pillar of light and hope. Bail flew towards it, his better judgment obscured by a need to know what had happened.

He couldn't understand. Clone gunships were circling the single remaining spire in a formation that Bail knew was a search pattern. Were they searching for survivors? If they were, it made little sense to be so high. And there was not a single fireship in sight. They were just letting the building burn.

Bail spied a landing platform on the second level and guided his speeder down. He could see people moving about on the platform, clones judging from their white armor. He would get an answer from them.

The clones noticed him land and hurried over. Bail leaped from his speeder and made straight for them.

"What is this?" he demanded, jerking his head towards the burning Temple. "What's going on here?"

The clone captain stepped forward, his posture relaxed but clearly suspicious. "There's been a rebellion, Sir. But don't worry, the situation is under control."

"A rebellion?" Bail asked. That made no sense. The Jedi would never rebel against the Republic. He had to see this for himself.

He tried to sidestep the captain, but the clone leveled his blaster rifle at his chest. "I'm sorry, Sir. It's time for you to leave."

Bail wanted to argue, but realized that would get him nowhere. There was nothing he could do right now. So instead he sighed and headed back for his speeder. "And so it is."

But just as he had climbed into his vehicle, he heard a clone yell in alarm. He turned to look – and stared.

A young Jedi padawan, twelve at the most, had appeared out of nowhere and was racing towards him, lightsaber out and in a defensive position. Without warning, the clones opened fire. The Jedi struck down a clone in his path, then began whirling his blade, deflecting their shots back at them. Two more clones fell. The Jedi leapt through the gap in the line and began retreating towards Bail's speeder, killing another clone as he went. Then the captain and his remaining troops concentrated their fire on the boy's midsection. Two of the shots got through and burned into his body. The boy collapsed to the ground, lightsaber deactivating as it fell from his lifeless hand.

Bail yelled in shock. The clones heard him, and leveled their blasters at him, clearly intent on not leaving a witness. Bail hurriedly started his speeder and rose into the sky, heading back towards the Senate Office Building, while the captain shouted orders to let him go. With the speed of a man possessed, Bail raced through the night.

* * *

Anakin stopped running. Now that he was a hundred meters away from the hospital, he had to formulate a plan. He regretted having to leave Master Windu, but there was nothing for it. The Jedi Master still needed medical attention, and Anakin could not merely sit and wait to be found by Palpatine, or whoever it was that was seeking him.

He had several options. He could return to the Jedi Temple and inform them what had happened. He could follow the dark pulse, and hope it led him to his pursuer, thereby avoiding placing anyone but himself in harm's way. Or he could head right back to Five Hundred Replica, and make sure that Padmé got off-planet safely. However, that might bring whatever was seeking him to her, placing her in mortal peril. Of course, Anakin thought darkly, mortal peril was not something that Padmé would shun. Her inner strength and desire to protect others made sure of that. It was one of the things he loved most about her, but right now, it was a negative trait.

He made his decision. Palpatine was gone, and the Jedi were not going to find him if he didn't wish to be found. It made little difference whether they began their search now or in an hour. But if he returned to the Temple, they would want a full briefing, which he had no time for right now. Padmé was in trouble, and she was his wife. She took priority over the Jedi. It was something he should have made clear long ago.

Anakin looked for his speeder. He had left his starfighter at the Senate Office Building; it would have made no sense to force two people, one gravely injured, into a one-man ship. Instead, he had 'borrowed' one of the residential speeders used by low-level politicians. It had horrible air drag and was designed for comfort rather than speed, but at least it flew.

Where was it? He had parked it right here, was sure. Just past the concourse leading to the CMI, right near this sign … Anakin swore violently. This area was a no-parking zone. His speeder had been towed.

In disgust, Anakin knocked the sign over. He had been so intent on getting Master Windu into medical care that he had forgotten only emergency vehicles were allowed to park within a hundred meters of a hospital. Not that he cared that the pile of junk he had flown here in was gone, but now he needed another means of transport.

He headed over towards the residential parking garage. He was going to have to commandeer a civilian vehicle. Hardly something the Jedi or Padmé would approve of, but Anakin didn't care.

He reached the lot and immediately spied what he wanted: a sleek yellow speeder with all the most recent aerodynamic modifications, and a high-quality ion thruster engine. It screamed speed. Anakin looked about for the owner, and saw him a few meters off, a glassy-eyed Aqualish lurching towards the target speeder. Even from here, Anakin could tell that the alien was spiced beyond all point of sensibility, clearly having just emerged from the bar across the street. He fumbled with his keys, staggered into a pillar, and bounced off, emitting a guttural sound somewhere between a curse and a laugh. Then he promptly doubled over and vomited.

Anakin shook his head in disgust. The idea of chewing large amounts of brain-altering toxins as a means of recreation was appalling to him. Any misgivings he might have had about taking this fellow's speeder were washed away. The alien was in no condition to drive: if he tried, he would crash before he could go half a kilometer. Anakin hurried over to the speeder and blocked the Aqualish's path. The alien looked up at him with an indignant expression on his paralyzed face. "What you want … human?"

Anakin turned his face to avoid the spice-laced breath. "You are in no condition to drive."

The alien snorted, nearly toppling over. "Me … great driver …"

Anakin looked right at him, lacing his words with the smallest push from the Force. "Go find a nice place to lie down and sleep. I'll take care of your speeder."

The alien nodded and did not even try to move off. Instead, he keeled over at Anakin's feet, snoring loudly.

Anakin stepped over him, grabbed the keys, and leapt into the vehicle. Starting the engine, he shot into the sky and screamed off towards Five Hundred Replica.

* * *

"Padmé, what are you doing?"

Padmé grabbed her blaster from the bedside cabinet, checked the charge, then tucked it into its sheath. Then she turned to Sabé. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're going to the front lines. Shouldn't you be packing? Didn't Obi-Wan say that we should get off-planet?"

"He did," Padmé said. "And we're going to. But I'm not leaving without Anakin."

"But Obi-Wan said …"

"I know what Obi-Wan said!" Padmé snapped. "But did you hear the rest of it? Sidious is going to come after Anakin. He's going to have Obi-Wan lure him in and bring him to him. And while I believe that Obi-Wan won't hurt him …" Padmé grabbed a vibroblade and clipped it to her belt, "Sidious is a whole different story."

"But Anakin says he wants you off-planet too. And what about the baby?"

Padmé stopped, and gently touched her abdomen. "I don't want to endanger the child," she said quietly. "But I also want to make sure that it grows up with a father."

"Then let me …"

"No," Padmé told her. "You can come, but I'm going too. Anakin will only listen to me. Then we can all leave together."

"Padmé, you know that Anakin is a Jedi," Sabé said gently. "He can handle himself."

"I know he can," Padmé said. "But can he handle _this_?"

Sabé didn't ask. She knew what Padmé was talking about. "I'll go warm up the speeder."

Padmé nodded and began winding her hair up in a loose bun. "We're going to the CMI. Anakin is there with Master Windu. And take this …" she tossed a blaster to Sabé. "I have a feeling you'll need it."

* * *

Vader knelt down before the holographic image of Lord Sidious. "What is thy bidding, My Master?"

Lord Sidious smiled under his hood. "Have all the Jedi been eradicated?"

"Every one, My Lord. I personally slew the three Council Masters present in the Temple."

"Ah yes, I was watching. You were ruthless, Lord Vader. You did not hesitate to use your power, and because of this you have emerged victorious. No Sith could have done better."

Vader lowered his head. "Thank you, My Master."

So Lord Sidious had been tapping into the Temple's security recordings. Vader greatly hoped that he had not witnessed the episode in the upstairs corridor, or his moment of weakness, hesitating to act against the children. It would have reflected very poorly on him, even though both Siri and the younglings were now dead. However, Lord Sidious's pleased tone suggested the Dark Lord was as of yet ignorant of what had transpired, how Obi-Wan Kenobi had very nearly resurfaced. Vader made a mental note to have that footage destroyed after he finished this communication.

Sidious continued. "I have seen to it that no law enforcement will be sent here to investigate. Everything shall be perfectly staged for your encounter with Skywalker."

Vader fought down the mixed well of emotions that was rising within him. "Do you know where he is?"

"I am unsure of his exact whereabouts, but he will be here soon. Wait for him. The clones know not to attack him, so he will come straight to you. Try to persuade him, fight if you must, but make sure you secure him alive."

Vader nodded. "I understand, My Master."

"Good," Sidious smiled. "Rise, my friend."

Vader stood and looked directly at his master's deformed face. Sidious brought his hand up to his chest and clenched it into a fist. "You have done well, my new apprentice. Now, Lord Vader, confront your former padawan, bring him into the fold, and secure peace for the Republic once and for all!"

* * *

The spotlights of the patrol swept over the swamp, which showed no sign of life. Nevertheless, the troops halted to do a more thorough reconnaissance. The wrecked speedboat before them bobbed slowly in the murky water, its engine destroyed, and the four Wookies that lay in it still and lifeless. Water was slowly entering through a hole in the side, which would soon force the wreck to the silent bottom of the lagoon. The clones focused their search beams on it, but did not descend from their walkers.

Finally, the search party leader lowered his binoculars and signaled the troops. "All these Wookies are dead. Move to the east."

The patrol moved off into the forest, the intensity of their searchlights dying away.

The boat remained as silent and lifeless as before. Then two of the Wookies in it began to stir. Chewbacca stuck his head over the side and roared the all clear.

A small figure emerged from the swamp, where he had been clinging to the bottom of the boat. He was covered head to toe in slime, but after wiping his face, Jedi Master Yoda was once again active.

"Stink, this mud does. A moment to bathe, give me."

He leapt from the boat into a pool of clearer water. A moment later he emerged, dripping wet, but clean once again.

Tarfful roared a question and jerked his head towards their intended destination. Yoda nodded. The three comrades rowed the boat to shore, then disembarked and set off into the forest.

* * *

The two Wookies pulled the camouflaged tarp of leaves and branches away, revealing the object they had sought: a small, one-man escape pod. The pneumatic door hissed and slid open, revealing the sparse interior. Yoda turned gratefully to his two friends, who had saved his life.

"Goodbye, Tarfful. Goodbye, Chewbacca. Miss you, I will."

Tarfful looked down and Chewbacca lowed mournfully. Yoda turned and boarded the tiny craft, sliding into his seat and closing the door. The engine roared to life, and the craft rose into the air, gaining speed until it rose too high to be distinct, and became just one more dot of light in the night sky.

The two Wookies watched until they could no longer see their friend's ship, then turned with heavy hearts and prepared for the long trek back to their forever-changed home.

* * *

Padmé set the speeder down smoothly and leapt out into the street. Sabé followed. In front of them, the Coruscant Medical Institute gleamed brightly against the backdrop of the neon advertisement signs and durasteel buildings. Padmé hurried towards it, Sabé following in her wake. Dressed as they both were in simple handmaiden attire, the Senator from Naboo and her companion attracted little attention.

They passed through the main door and emerged in the waiting area. A quick glance around told Padmé that Anakin was not in the room. Nor was there any sign of Master Windu. Sabé bent in close to Padmé's ear. "What do you want to do?"

Padmé's eyes alighted on the reception desk. "Ask someone."

Sabé looked skeptical. "If Anakin is here, he probably wouldn't have used his real name. Even if he did, do you think it's a good idea to go calling out for him? It might cause a scene."

Padmé smiled. "Trust me."

She walked up to the reception desk and got the attention of the woman sitting there. "Excuse me, do you have keep admittance records?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, we do."

"Can you recall a dark-skinned human male, about forty or so, brought in severely injured?"

The woman sighed. "Yes, I do. Poor man. Checked in two hours ago and went straight to the special trauma unit. Arm severed, severe electrical burns, and heaven knows what else. I think they just brought him into Recovery, though. Looks like he's going to make it."

Padmé smiled. "That's good to know. Can you recall if anyone came in with him?"

"Yes, in fact. A younger human, in his twenties. Blue eyes, but he wore a dark cloak, so I couldn't get too much of his face. Said his name was Arkan Starkiller."

Padmé flashed a small triumphant grin over her shoulder at Sabé. "Do you know where he is now?"

"Left," the woman told her. "About forty minutes ago. Got a call from someone, then he took off. Surprised a few people. Didn't say where he was going."

Padmé bit back her frustration. "Thank you."

She crossed the room back over to Sabé. "He's not here. Let's try somewhere else."

Sabé did not respond. She was staring fixedly at the monitors showing security footage from outside. Padmé shook her friend's shoulder. "Sabé?"

Sabé's eyes widened as they gazed at the monitors, which were showing a dark shuttle that had just arrived. "Oh no," she whispered. "This can't be good."

* * *

Mirthrada Nuruodo stepped down from the shuttle and surveyed the building before him. The Coruscant Medical Institute, largest and most highly touted medical facility on the planet. Truly a marvel of modern science. But that did not concern him now. He had a mission to complete.

His squad, weapons fully charged and ready leapt down beside him. There were only twenty of them, but Nuruodo did not want to bring a large amount of troops, however specialized, into a hospital to apprehend one ailing Jedi Master. Master Windu could hardly be expected to put up much resistance.

With deliberate purpose, Nuruodo marched right towards the main door.

* * *

"It's him," Sabé gasped, her eyes focused on the black-cloaked figure at the head of the column. "That alien. He works for Palpatine!"

Padmé frowned. "How do you know?"

"I've met him before," Sabé said. "He's a spy, tasked with discovering the connection between you and Senator Organa."

Padmé looked long and hard at her friend. "We're going to have to talk about this later. But why are so uptight?"

Sabé turned away from the monitor. "Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that Anakin and Master Windu are involved in an incident with the Chancellor, and then next thing we know Palpatine's agent is showing up at the hospital where they came with troops in tow? They're here to bring them in!"

Padmé suddenly came to the same understanding. "Then thank the Force Anakin left," she breathed. "But what about Master Windu? We can't just leave him to Palpatine!"

Sabé nodded. "You're suggesting we warn him?"

Padmé nodded and beckoned her away from the screen. The two friends hurried through the push doors into the main hospital.

* * *

There was quite a stir when Nuruodo materialized in the waiting room with the clones. Several people got up in surprise, but the prominently displayed gun barrels silenced any potential questions. Nuruodo headed straight for the main desk and addressed the secretary. "Which room contains Jedi Master Mace Windu?"

The secretary gulped. "Sir, there's no record of a Jedi Master being admitted."

Nuruodo smiled coldly. "Ah, but he is here, I assure you. Check again."

The woman obliged, then looked up. "Lose the attitude, okay? I told you that there's no record …"

Nuruodo was in no mood for games. Reaching across the desk, he seized the secretary by her collar and yanked her out of her seat. "You are harboring a suspected traitor and assassin. If you will not tell me where he is, I have no use for you."

He flung the woman against the far wall, knocking her unconscious. Nuruodo turned and snapped orders to his troops. "Scan all databases and security recordings. Relay any updates to me. And lock down all exits. No one is getting in or out until we have Master Windu in custody."

The clones obeyed instantly, settling down to hack into the system or peeling off in pairs of two to seal off the exits. Nuruodo pulled out a deadly-looking blaster and headed into the clinic.

* * *

Deep in space, Yoda watched through the back window as Kashyyyk grew smaller and smaller, until it was no more than a green dot. Then he sighed and closed the viewport. He felt deep regret for leaving the Wookies to deal with the clones he had brought to their peaceful world, but he had no choice. If anything was to be done, he needed to get back to Coruscant and find out what had happened.

The pod had been equipped with a hyperdrive, so he would be able to reach the capital. But before he went to lightspeed, he wanted to try to contact the Temple again.

He turned his communication beacon to the Temple's frequency. "This is Master Yoda. Come in. Anyone!" Static was his only reply.

Yoda was about to try again when an idea struck him. He had not yet tried any personal communicators. If one of the Jedi happened to be out of the Temple, they might be unaffected by whatever was causing the interference.

Yoda adjusted the com unit to a different frequency and broadcast his message towards Coruscant. "Master Windu? Come in."

* * *

Anakin had Five Hundred Replica in his sights when a beeping noise caught his attention. His com was ringing. No, it wasn't his com, it was Master Windu's. Surprised, Anakin activated it. "Yes?"

A familiar voice crackled over the channel. "Master Windu? Come in."

Anakin was startled. "Master Yoda?"

The Jedi Master paused. "Skywalker? Doing what with Master Windu's comlick, are you?"

Anakin quickly recovered. "Master Windu can't talk right now, Master Yoda. He's … incapacitated."

Yoda's voice became suspicious. "What is happening on Coruscant, tell me, Skywalker. Turned on me, my clones have. Reach the Jedi Temple, I cannot. Pain and suffering, I feel through the Force. What is going on?"

Anakin was taken aback. "Your clones betrayed you? Suffering in the Force? What are you talking about?"

"Felt it, you have not?"

"No."

Yoda sounded disapproving. "Shielding yourself, you have been, Anakin. Want to be detected, you do not. Open yourself to the Force."

Anakin did so. Immediately, a wave of pain shot through him, so strong he nearly lost control of the speeder. The screams of hundreds of extinguished lives assaulted him. Anakin hastily cut them off. "What was that?"

"Asking you that question, I am. On Coruscant, you are. Know what happened, do you?"

Anakin sighed. "The Sith have revealed themselves."

Yoda did not seem surprised; on the contrary, Anakin's words seemed to be little more than conformation. "Tell me everything."

Anakin launched into the story of what had happened in Palpatine's office, the identity of the Sith Lord, the Jedi's Masters doomed arrest attempt, Master Windu's duel, and his own intervention. He left out any reference to Padmé, but did not shy away from how close he had come to joining Palpatine, going so far as to strike at Mace. When he finished, Yoda was silent.

"Blind, we have been," he said finally, sounding very old. "Foreseen this, we should have. Confirmed, my fears are: Jedi Masters dead, Master Windu injured. Black, this situation is. But hope, we still have, for fall, you did not."

Anakin shook his head. "I don't deserve to be commended, Master Yoda. Had Sidious not overplayed his hand, I probably would have joined him."

"Underestimate your own strength, do not," Yoda told him. "Resist him, you did."

Anakin sighed. "I can only hope Obi-Wan had the same strength."

"Powerful, your mentor is," Yoda told him. "If alive, he is, then fall easily, he would not. Need him, we will."

Anakin nodded. "What should we do?"

"Return to the Jedi Temple, you must. Under threat, it is."

Anakin looked towards Five Hundred Replica, which was only a few hundred meters away. "I can't go there now."

"Why not?"

"I have something I need to do first."

Yoda's voice became stern. "In danger, your fellows are. Desert them, you cannot."

"I'm not going to desert them," Anakin retorted. "But this is more important."

Before Yoda could respond, Anakin cut the link. He brought his speeder to rest smoothly on the veranda of Padmé's apartment.

* * *

"How much further?" Sabé asked.

Padmé halted briefly to consult the map she had downloaded onto her datapad. "The Recovery Wing should be just a few corridors over now."

They set off again in the indicated direction. Sabé, extremely tense, kept glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting pursuit to have materialized during the short interval since her last scan. They pushed their way through another set of doors and spotted a sign pointing the way to the Recovery Wing. The two women doubled their pace, hurrying past a security outpost without slowing down. They hadn't encountered anyone since reaching this section of the hospital. Padmé hoped that wasn't a bad sign.

* * *

"Sir?"

Nuruodo activated his comlick. "Yes?"

"We found him on the security banks, sir. Recovery Wing 1138. He appears to be comatose."

Nuruodo nodded. "Then there will be no problems."

"Something else, sir. We've picked up two women heading the same way. We think they may be trying to intercept the target. Facial analysis suggests they are Senator Padmé Amidala and her associate Sabé Naberrie."

Nuruodo quickly lengthened his stride. "They are trying to help him escape. Move in and seal them off. Do not kill them unless you have no other choice, but do not hesitate to use force to subdue them."

"Yes, sir."

Nuruodo checked his position. He was only three corridors out. Padmé Amidala would not thwart Lord Sidious this time.

* * *

Padmé spied the plaque on the door. Recovery Wing. They were close. She and Sabé hurried down the corridor, peering into every window. Nothing …

"Here!" Sabé called.

A quick flash of Padmé's credentials got them through the door. Padmé hurried over to the row of patients. Master Windu was lying on a white linen cot, eyes closed, wearing a medical smock. He appeared to be in a medically induced coma. The two women could see the freshly treated burns, surgical scars, and most prominently, the silver mechanical arm affixed to the stump of his right arm where his real arm had once been. His breathing, however, was slow and deep. He was definitely alive. But that didn't help them. There was no way to warn him like this. But there had to be a better way to wake him up than indiscriminately ripping out the tubes imbedded in his arms.

"Excuse me," Padmé called over the attendant nurse. "Is this man stable?"

The nurse checked him over. "Yes, he appears to be. He is only in a coma to give his body a chance to recover from shock. His vitals are normal."

"Would it be safe to wake him up? Or even move him?"

The nurse thought about it. "I believe so. But I don't have that authority. Let me check with Dr. Lanting and I'll get back to you."

She hurried off towards the office at the other end of the wing. Padmé and Sabé waited anxiously by Master Windu's side.

* * *

Nuruodo noticed the sign. He was close; Master Windu could not be far from here. But the two Naboo women had likely gotten here before him. It was unlikely that they had moved the Jedi Master, but he could not take chances. And he could leave no witnesses.

There was a door in front of him, with a plaque on it that read _Dr. Tyus Lanting, Trauma and Intensive Care Specialist. _Nurruodo entered.

The doctor, a middle-aged human male with graying hair and a weathered face broke off his conversation with the young nurse and stood up to meet the newcomer. "What are you going here? Do you have an appointment?"

Nuruodo ignored him, shoving past him towards the door leading to the main ward.

The doctor leapt in front of him and seized the front of his cloak. "Hey, look here …"

Without warning, Nuruodo pulled out his deadly blaster and shot Lanting right through the chest. The doctor flew backward and crashed into a stack of forms. The nurse screamed in horror and ran towards him. Nuruodo trained his weapon on her as well and shot her through the heart.

Padmé and Sabé heard the shots ring out, and the nurse's scream. They turned to look at each other, worry dissolving into panic. "We're too late," Sabé gasped. "They're coming for him."

Padmé didn't hesistate. She ripped the tubes from Master Windu's arms and began to wheel the gurney towards the door. "We're going to have to take a chance. Go!"

Leaving the dead humans behind him, Nuruodo barged into the main ward, weapon raised. A quick glance toward the far end of the wing revealed the Senator and her companion, wheeling the Jedi Master towards the door. Nuruodo immediately opened fire.

The bolts screamed by the two women, missing them and their unconscious charge by millimeters. Ducking their heads, they shoved their way through the doors, wheeling Master Windu in front of them, and took off down the hall. Nuruodo sprinted after them, firing with deadly precision. One of the bolts hit the support structure of the cot, nearly causing the Jedi Master to fall. Padmé and Sabé pushed him back onto it and doubled their speed, while the assassin behind them continued to fire. They plunged indiscriminately down the hall, deeper and deeper into the maze of the hospital.

* * *

Anakin jumped from his speeder. "Padmé!"

There was no reply. The veranda was dark, and Anakin could see no lights from up the hall. Nevertheless, he raced up the stairs, still calling out for his wife.

He emerged in the main sitting room. It was completely dark, as were the adjacent rooms. Anakin raced through every room, calling out for Padmé, but received no reply. She was gone.

Anakin swore and collapsed on the bed in their room. Padmé could not have packed so soon, not when he had gotten here so quickly. All her clothes were still in the wardrobe. Clearly, she hadn't left Coruscant yet. Yet there was no sign of a struggle, so she had left voluntarily. But where to?

One of the drawers of their nightstand was open partway. Anakin peered inside. This was where Padmé kept her assortment of blasters and knives for emergencies. Two of the blasters were missing, as well as her favorite vibroknife. Anakin knew exactly what had happened. She had gone to the CMI to look for him. And clearly, she was anticipating trouble, just like he had been.

Anakin punched the wall in frustration, denting it with his mechanical hand. "Damn it, Padmé! Why do you do this to me?"

He went back into the main room. He was going to have to go back to the CMI and find her to make sure she got off-planet. He had enough trouble already without worrying for his wife. Being so determined and independent, she had a tendency to attract danger, or maybe she just sought it out. And while he trusted her to handle herself against most foes, what was hunting her now was far beyond her ability to fight back.

Anakin was just about to head back down to his speeder when something caught his eye. An unnatural glow on the horizon, surrounded by a corona of dark smoke. Anakin made his way to the window, filled with feeling of foreboding. It couldn't be …

The sight of the flames roaring towards the sky left no doubt. The Jedi Temple was burning.

Master Yoda's words sprang into his head again: _In danger, your fellows are. Desert them, you cannot. _

Sidious has struck. He had feared that something like this would happen, but he had thought the Dark Lord would come directly for him. But that wasn't Sidious's style. He had set a trap, with the other Jedi as bait, to lure Anakin to him.

Conflict sprang into Anakin's mind. He still had to ensure his wife's safety. But the Jedi Temple was closer. There was a chance that some Jedi might still be alive. And they were being killed because of him. He couldn't turn away.

Even though it was a trap, Anakin knew he had to go. If not, Sidious would strike again, and next time, Padmé might be his target. He had to face off against the threat, and end it before it could hurt his wife. The source of all his fears, the greatest threat to Padmé's life, was inside that Temple now. It needed to be destroyed.

Anakin raced back to his speeder and started it. He rose into the air and soared off towards Jedi Temple. All the while, he prayed with every fiber of his being that Padmé was as resourceful and determined as he hoped she was.

* * *

Padmé pulled out her blaster and fired off a few rounds at her pursuer. The alien dogged them without slowing down and kept hard on their heels. She saw him raise his wrist communicator to his mouth and call for his troops to head them off. Padmé fired again, then without waiting to see the result, pushed even harder. "Come on!"

The cot holding Master Windu was shooting down the halls at a frightening speed. If she and Sabé lost control, Master Windu would be thrown from the cot and take considerable damage from the impact. But they couldn't afford to slow down, because the Chancellor's agent was so close. It was a miracle none of them had yet been hit; the alien was clearly a professional. Their luck wouldn't last much longer.

They rounded a corner, and spotted a turbolift at the far end of the corridor. They rushed towards it. They were halfway there when their pursuer came around the corner, weapon trained on them. A hail of blaster bolts erupted around their heads. One struck the back of the cot. For a second, Padmé was worried that Master Windu had been hit, but he did not appear freshly injured.

They reached the turbolift. Sabé punched the button, and the two women pulled the cot inside. The alien fired one more time, hitting Padmé in the lower part of the leg.

Sabé hit the emergency close button, sealing the door, and the turbolift began to rise. She hurried to her friend's side. "Padmé! Are you alright?"

The Senator nodded. "I'm fine. It hit my boot; the material was thick enough to prevent any damage."

Sabé sighed in relief. "That's good. And at least we all got away."

Padmé shook her head. "We're far from out of this. That man isn't going to let this stop him."

As if to prove her point, an explosion shook the elevator shaft. The two women stumbled, and grabbed onto the cot for support. Padmé looked down anxiously. "He's coming."

Sabé looked at the still-unconscious Mace Windu. "You know something," she quipped. "This would be a _really_ great time for him to wake up."

* * *

Nuruodo struck the control panel. The door was sealed; one of the women must have locked it. He could try to hotwire it open, but that would take too long. Instead, he pulled an explosive charge from his belt and fastened it to the door. Retreating to a safe distance, he pressed the detonator.

An explosion ripped the door apart, shaking the hallway. Nuruodo ran through the wreckage and stuck his head into the open shaft. High above, he could see the elevator car grinding to a halt. The Chiss pulled out a grapple gun and fired at the car, fastening onto the undercarriage. Nuruodo hit the recall button and began to ascend. He reached the car, pulled out a vibroknife, and began to cut his way through the floor.

His communicator buzzed. "Sir, we're on the floor now. Target is on the move, heading for Sector 7."

Nuruodo finished cutting through the floor and pulled himself up. "Keep them pinned down. I'm in pursuit."

The Chiss opened the door and ran down the hall until he reached a juncture. Skid marks clearly showed the target heading right, but after consulting the datapad map, Nuruodo went left. The element of surprise would be an advantage.

* * *

"Did we lose him?"

Padmé glanced quickly over her shoulder. There was no sign of pursuit. "Maybe. But keep alert …"

Her warning was rendered unnecessary by the blaster bolts that came flying in from the right. Clone troops came rushing down the adjacent hall, weapons raised. Hurriedly, Padmé and Sabé altered their route. As they ran along the glass lined hallway, they could see more Clones coming from other entrances. The floor was being sealed off. The new arrivals fired, but the glass was thick enough to stop the bolts. The clones in their hallway, however, had their range now. Padmé and Sabé ducked down and hurried around the corner. Another turbolift was in sight.

Two clones materialized out of nowhere to cut them off. They brought their weapons up, aiming for the motionless Jedi Master.

Without hesitation, Padmé blasted them both in the face. The clones collapsed.

They reached the door, but it wouldn't open. "It's been locked down!" Sabé called.

Padmé bit her lip. "Can you hotwire it?"

"I think so. But I need a minute …"

Another squad of clones appeared and began firing. Padmé and Sabé dropped two with quick shots, sending the rest diving for cover. Padmé turned her friend. "I don't think we have a minute!"

"Then we'll have to try some other way …"

Padmé shook her head. "No. Try and slice it. I'll cover you."

She wheeled the Jedi Master into an alcove that provided him with some semblance of protection. Padmé knelt down beside him. Sabé squeezed in and began to cross the wires of the turbolift controls.

The clones emerged and began to advance. Padmé's shots sent them back to cover. A retaliatory blast nearly caught her on the arm. The clones advanced again, this time cautiously, laying down a barrage of covering fire. Padmé stayed hidden, occasionally popping off a shot to slow them down.

Sabé gave a triumphant yell as the door slid open. She leapt into the open turbolift, and beckoned Padmé. Padmé shoved Master Windu's cot through the door and dove in after it, narrowly missing being hit by the hail of bolts that wrecked the wheel cot's suspension system. She pressed the up button and the turbolift door slid shut.

Padmé leaned back against the wall and sighed. "We have to get out of here. We aren't going to last must longer."

Sabé nodded. "They'll have seized our speeder by now. And even if they hadn't, the lower floors are sealed off. There's nowhere to go but up."

Padmé laughed half-heartedly. "Somehow, that doesn't make me feel that much better."

Sabé smiled. "I wasn't trying to make a pun. But you're right; things aren't looking too good."

Mace Windu groaned and stirred slightly. Sabé looked up at him from the floor. "I hope we can get him out. If what Obi-Wan said is true …" she broke off, a fresh wave of pain in her eyes.

Padmé nodded in understanding. "Then the Republic will need all the help it can get."

Sabé sighed and forced her grief back down. "But I don't see how we can escape. Without outside support …"

An idea flashed into Padmé's head. She grabbed her comlick and entered a secure code. Sabé looked at her curiously. "Who are you calling?"

Padmé brought the comlick up to her mouth and waited for the connection. "Someone I know I can trust," she told Sabé. "Someone who can help us." She anxiously tapped her fingers against the wall. "I just hope he hasn't already been taken out."

* * *

Anakin brought his 'borrowed' speeder to rest in front of the Temple. The devastation was total. The four minor spires had been destroyed, and the tallest one, the one that held the Council Chamber, was greatly damaged. The statues that had flanked the entrance had been toppled. Republic gunships circled overhead, surveying the destruction. Anakin began to ascend the steps.

As he approached the main door, he saw the clones. Dozens of them were stationed outside the entrance. What Master Yoda had told him was true; the clones had turned on the Jedi. Anakin reached for his lightsaber. He didn't want to kill the clones, but if they fired on him he would have no choice.

He advanced openly, not bothering to hide his presence. The clones saw him, and he tensed, anticipating a sudden attack. But the clones did not attack him. Upon seeing his face, they lowered their weapons, stepped aside, and _bowed_, opening his way to the Jedi Temple.

Anakin walked through the procession of silent sentries, who seemed to be honoring him. It certainly didn't feel like a trap. But his danger sense did not abate. Something was waiting for him inside the Temple. Something deadly.

He reached the main door. Without any prompting from him, it opened. Anakin stepped through the vast portal and entered the darkened path leading into the heart of the Temple.

As soon as he reached the end of the entrance corridor, Anakin knew what had happened. He had known before, but it wasn't until now that the enormity of what had happened truly fell upon him. He emerged into the main hall of the Temple, once alight with fabulous works of art and tributes to some of the greatest Jedi who had ever lived. None of those things were visible now. There was only one thing in the hall.

Bodies.

Hundreds of bodies littered the floor, both clone and Jedi, all frozen in various contortions of death. Just in his field of vision alone, Anakin could recognize a dozen beings he had known and spoken to. All ages, sexes, races, and species were represented in the host of the dead. Anakin could barely move without coming into contact with one of them, some still locked in combat with their opponents, others with masks of terror or agony frozen on their faces. Others were serene, having peacefully accepted their fate as they met their doom. The wounds were appalling. Body parts littered the floor, close to or far from the people to which they had been attached. Some of the victims were so badly mutilated it was impossible to tell what species they had belonged to. The carpet and stone tiles were stained a much darker red than Anakin had remembered. The very air of the room was tainted with the scent of death.

Anakin Skywalker, the Hero Without Fear, who had been through some of the most hellish battles the galaxy had ever seen, who had seen thousands of comrades and enemies alike perish, who had waded through waves of bodies to save the living from being smothered by the dead, closed his eyes and fought back a retch.

After he had mastered himself, he opened his eyes and surveyed the scene again. The carnage was staggering. All kinds of horrible memories flooded his mind of similar situations he had lived through. But one in particular stood out: his own rampage through the Tusken camp following the death of his mother. For like this, that had not been a battle. It had been a massacre.

Anakin knelt down and examined the body of a young boy, who lay face-down on the ground. An ugly wound stretched from the base of his neck down to his waist. Anakin looked at it closely. No blaster had caused such damage. This was a lightsaber wound.

Anakin stood up and looked more closely at a few of the bodies. Several more bore similar distinctive scars and cauterized burns. The work of a lightsaber, without a doubt.

His foot brushed against something. He looked down and saw Shaak Ti's head at his feet, her dark eyes now gray with the shadow of death. A look of startled fear was frozen on her face, suggesting that she had been taken by surprise. Anakin pulled back and surveyed the hall once again.

_Who? _he thought in disbelief. _Who could have done this?_

He continued on, stepping over more bodies as he went. He didn't stop to look, not wanting to dwell on it any more. _This could have been me_, he realized. _Had I joined Palpatine back in his office, I would be the one responsible for this. In a way, I guess I still am._

He noticed another body in his path. His stunned look immediately disappeared from his face, contorting into an ugly expression of hate and disgust. Marching over to the body, he kicked it over and examined its face.

Pablo-Jill's lifeless eyes stared blankly up at him, lingering traces of pain and horror frozen in their finite depths. The Ongree was missing both his arms, and the entire front of his robes was stained with vast amounts of blood. Anakin's sympathies evaporated and a new emotion welled up in his chest as he looked down on his former oppressor.

"Well, well, Master Jill. So this is what all your scheming has got you. A great tomb made from the blood and bones of those you meant to rule."

The dead Jedi Master did not answer him. A contemptuous sneer on his face, Anakin kicked Pablo-Jill's body out of his path. Then he tried to bring himself back under control. He succeeded in subduing the rage, but the resentment that had risen in him was too strong to fully suppress. _Such feelings are wrong_, a voice called to him. _They are of the Dark Side. _

_I don't care_, Anakin thought bitterly. _The scum got what he deserved. _

A low chuckle emanated from the shadows. "My thoughts exactly."

Anakin whirled to face the noise. The sound had come from a dark area near the base of the stairs, which was clear of bodies. Anakin moved closer, but despite his keen vision, he could see no one. "Where are you?" he demanded of the voice.

The low chuckle came again. "Look closer."

Anakin did, and then he saw it. Just barely visible amid the swirling shadows was the outline of a man, cloaked in a deep darkness. He was kneeling in the open circle, invisible face looking right at Anakin. The young Jedi drew his weapon, and the dark man laughed.

"Eager to fight, as always. Good. Such a trait is a virtue. You do not hesitate to defend what you believe is right … and destroy what stands in your way."

Anakin did not move, but his grip tightened. "Like you, I suppose."

"Oh yes," the dark man hissed. "Very like me. The similarities are striking. Eerily so."

He spread his arms to indicate the entire Temple. "As you can see, I've done some redecorating," he said, almost carelessly. "What do you think?"

Anakin smirked slightly, fighting back a sick feeling. "The blood and bodies are nice touches. Keep visitors away."

The dark man rose from his kneeling position and regarded Anakin. "It didn't stop you."

"Of course not," Anakin said. "You wanted me to come, didn't you? This massacre was a trap … a way to lure me here."

The dark man laughed. "It had a dual purpose. You are right; it was meant to draw you here. But even had you not come, my actions here would not have been wasted. The greatest threat the Republic has ever faced has been expunged."

Anakin raised an eyebrow, the sick feeling churning even more violently in his stomach. He pointed to the body of a young female padawan, no more than twelve. "_She_ was a great threat?"

"She was a pawn," the dark man said dismissively. "An agent of the true evil. The ones who used abused their power and infected their followers are the ones who needed to answer for their crimes."

"The Council," Anakin said. He didn't need further proof.

The dark man smiled, an expression just visible through the shadows that masked his face.

"So why bring me here?" Anakin asked. "Do you want to finish what you started?"

"Oh no," the dark man told him. "You are different, Anakin. You are a visionary. A prophet. A man of destiny. You saw the evil in the Jedi, even before I myself came to realize it. You defied them, and they tried to destroy you for it. But you have survived, you have found your path, and now, you will be able to fulfill your true destiny. Obi-Wan would be proud."

Anakin throat tightened painfully, and he pointed his weapon at the other. "You know nothing about Obi-Wan!"

"I knew your master well, Anakin," the dark man hissed. "As well as you, if not better. Your loyalty to him is admirable, but is unfortunately misguided." He extended a hand. "I can help you. Join me, embrace your fate, and you will truly honor his memory!"

Anakin held his ground, lightsaber arm steady, though torments wracked his body and mind. "I will not be swayed by you or your master."

The dark man let his hand fall. "I didn't want it to come to this," he said regretfully. "But you leave me no choice, Anakin. If you will not see reason, then I will have to bring you in by force."

He reached for his belt and unhooked a lightsaber. A beam of pulsing blue energy sprang into existence. The dark man brought it up to his face and saluted, eyes gleaming eerily in the deadly light.

Anakin's mouth went dry. The flood of violent emotions crashed down in a ferocious tidal wave, giving rise to shock and icy horror. Terrible images flashed into his mind, memories of his greatest fear. Padmé's anguished face, the molten cascades of lava, the mocking laugh, helpless despair and rage; all of these swirled together into one clear image, pulsing in the glowing heart of the dark man's blade.

_Blue …_Anakin thought. _The color of betrayal …the Vision!_

He struggled to find his voice as he lowered into a defensive stance, ignited his blade, and faced off against the dark figure of his nightmares. "Who are you?"

The dark man paused, considering the question, twirling his deadly blade as he thought. "You may call me … Darth Vader."

Then he charged.

* * *


	31. A Narrow Escape

OK everyone, I have a post for you. I figure I really owe you guys this one.

I believe I mentioned that the duel was going to be spread out over two or more chapters. I tell you this because this post is the lesser half of the duel. I didn't want to bounce back and forth with the story, so I'm wrapping up the other battle first, then devoting all my attention to Anakin vs. Vader.

No replies this time, sorry. But I read them all, as always.

* * *

**Chapter 31**

"I'm telling you, I saw it!" Bail exclaimed. "Why would I be making something like this up?"

Over the channel, Mas Amedda's arrogant blue face remained impassive. "How should I know? You could be trying to initiate civil unrest."

"Civil unrest!" Bail shouted, slamming his fist on the desk and nearly knocking over the holoprojector. "Look out your window, you pompous fool! Tell me why the Jedi Temple being attacked does _not_ qualify as civil unrest!"

A wary half-smile appeared on Amedda's lips. "Careful, Senator Organa. You are not helping your case."

"The Jedi Temple," Bail said determinedly, biting back his mounting fury, "Is on fire. I just saw soldiers of the Republic shoot a twelve-year old boy. I cannot reach any Jedi to find out what has happened, so I am asking you for a simple explanation. _Why_ have the clones seized the Jedi Temple? Have you lost control of them?"

Amedda scowled. "The clones of the Grand Army of the Republic remain completely within our control."

"Oh? If so, why did you send them to the Temple? The Jedi Order has served the Republic loyally since its inception. They are our allies. This is a blatant act of treason, and you refuse to justify it!"

Amedda's scowl increased. "Listen to me, _Senator_. The Republic Army keeps the peace. _If_ they have attacked the Jedi Temple, as you claim, then their presence there is automatically warranted. I can assure you that you will receive your explanation after the situation has been dealt with. Until that time, you will cease investigation into this matter, or I will have you arrested." The link was severed.

Bail swore violently and seized the holoprojector again. He was halfway through entering Mas Amedda's code when he stopped. It would do no good. If there was a conspiracy afoot, then Amedda was definitely in on it. He wouldn't waste his time appealing his case to the smug Chagrian.

Instead, he tried to reach the Republic Army's Central Command. But despite the fact that military channels were supposed to remain open at all times, he could not establish a connection. Every frequency he tried produced only disruptive static. It was as if someone had anticipated his action, and cut his communications off. Something cold began to permeate the walls of Bail's stomach. He had a bad feeling about this.

Bail began to gather his things. He no longer had any doubt that the Jedi were being targeted in a political plot. There was nothing more he could do here; he had to leave if he was going to warn any survivors what had befallen.

The Senator quickly made two more calls. One went to his most trusted personal aide and bodyguard, Sheltay Retrac, the other to Captain Antilles, whom he had left in charge of his personal ship, the _Tantive IV_. He ordered Captain Antilles to have his ship fueled and ready for departure. Sheltay, whom he had sent on a courier mission, did not answer her comm. Considering that she was usually the model of dependency, Bail's feeling of unease grew even more profound. Sheltay would never cut herself off unless she thought they were both in serious danger.

Bail finished gathering his essential belongings, including a fully charged blaster and the datapad containing his list of contacts for the resistance. He touched the comm one more time, calling his secretary to let her know what he was doing. "Neisa?"

Neisa did not respond. Bail tried again. Still, he received no response. Irritated, Bail stepped outside his office to see what was keeping her. Neisa's desk was unoccupied, apparently vacated only recently.

Bail bit back his frustration. Of all times to desert her post. He had followed Padmé's advice and reduced his staff following the security breach, but had retained Neisa because she had shown a long record of competency and dedication. He liked her a great deal, but he was going to have to revise his estimate of her.

Bail's comlick beeped suddenly. He activated it. "Organa."

"Bail! Thank the Force you're alright. We need your help."

"Padmé?" Bail frowned. "What's wrong? You sound nervous!"

"Keep your voice down," Padmé cautioned him. "We're at the CMI with Mace Windu. An agent of the Chancellor's is stalking us, trying to kill him. He's got clones …"

Bail started. "Clones? Clones are trying to kill the Jedi Master?"

"Yes, Bail. Don't …"

Bail sprang into action. "Padmé, something is going on. The clones have turned against the Jedi. I just saw them attack the Temple!"

"What?" Padmé exclaimed. "Bail, are you sure?"

"Positive. I watched them kill a young padawan. This has to be a conspiracy of some kind. But who would orchestrate it?"

"It's the Chancellor, Bail. He's blaming the Jedi for trying to assassinate him. Ana … Someone just told me about it."

"The Chancellor?" Ice passed through Bail's veins. The Chancellor could not possibly be condoning the murder of thousands of Jedi. Yet, that explained Mas Amedda's reaction to his news, and the communications cutoff.

He gripped his comlick tighter. "Padmé, what can we do about this?"

"Sabé and I are trying to help Master Windu, but we don't have transport. Can you get a speeder over her for us?"

"I'll come myself," Bail told her. "I'm only a few minutes away."

Relief was evident in Padmé's voice. "Thank you, Bail."

"Just stay alive and keep moving. I'll be there soon."

Bail terminated the connection and ran towards the door. His speeder was parked in a private garage just down the hall. If he could get there quickly, he could avoid any serious complications, help Padmé and Sabé, then pick up Sheltay and Neisa later.

Just before he could reach the door, however, it slid open. A hulking human man in a security uniform entered, flanked by four red robed figures. Members of Chancellor Palpatine's elite Executive Guard.

The uniformed man flashed a badge in Bail's face. "Senator Organa," he said smoothly, amused arrogance echoing in his every word, "I am Major Davin. You are under arrest."

Bail halted in front of the man, centimeters from the red-robed guard's extended force pikes. "For what? On whose authority?"

"By order of the Supreme Chancellor," Davin told him. "You are being charged with conspiracy against this government, as well as planning to aid and abet its antagonists. You will submit yourself into my custody now."

Bail did not move. "Why should I? This is a violation of the Republic's laws. You have no proof."

"Oh, I have plenty of proof, Organa," Davin smiled coldly, stroking his beard. "There are stacks of datapads in my office recording conversations between you and other suspect members of this government. I have several hours of incriminating video footage. And Mas Amedda was kind enough to provide me with a transcript of your recent call to him, made available by a tap wired directly into your office. Don't play innocent, Organa."

Bail fought to keep the surprise off his face. How? How could there have been a tap in his office? He had reduced his staff, made all the necessary security sweeps and more. A cold realization came to him. There was only one possible explanation …

"Neisa," he breathed.

Davin chuckled. "Right on, Organa. You really brought it on yourself, you know, working that poor girl so hard. All work and no play makes a Twi'lek lady listless. All it took was a drink in the bar, a few whispered words in her ear … a kiss or two, taking her back to my apartment … she melted down like butter."

Bail smiled bitterly, disgust churning in his stomach. "You sick scum."

Davin's amusement disappeared. "Enough, Organa. I'm not the one being judged here. You have five seconds."

Bail held out his arms. "Very well. I guess I don't have a choice."

Davin pulled out a pair of stun cuffs and reached for Bail's outstretched arms. The Senator pulled one arm back, and decked the Major right in the face. Davin staggered backward, hands on his nose, the cuffs falling from his grip. The Executive Guards lunged at Bail. Bail pulled out a blaster and fired at one of the guards, catching him in the leg. The guard stumbled. Bail seized his pike and swung it around, catching two more guards in the face. He darted past the one still standing and rushed for the door, only to find his path blocked by Davin, his nose streaming blood. Davin pulled out his blaster and aimed, Bail ducked …

A blue pulse caught Davin from behind. He staggered, then toppled face first to the floor. Two more pulses followed, and the remaining red guards collapsed to the floor.

Bail looked up and saw Sheltay Retrac, his faithful aide and bodyguard, calmly stowing her blaster back its holster. Her dark eyes glittered with amusement. "Problems, Senator?" she asked, a hint of a laugh in her melodious voice.

"I had it handled," Bail said coolly, trying to hide a smile. "Though I thank you for the thought."

Sheltay touched the unconscious Davin with her boot. "You didn't have to beat them up, you know. A simple stun blast was all you needed."

Bail shrugged. "I need to stay in form. I'm sure my wife would agree."

"No doubt," Sheltay smiled mischievously. "Sorry I'm late. A few more of these goons tried to waylay me. Unsuccessfully, of course."

"Of course," Bail grinned, starting off towards the garage. "You'll have to inform me on the way."

Sheltay fell into step with him. "Where are we going?"

"Coruscant Medical Institute," Bail told her. "Two of our friends need our help."

* * *

He came fast, so quickly that Anakin could barely register his movement at all. One second, Vader was standing there, mocking him with face and blade, the next he had launched himself towards the Chosen One at an impossible speed. Anakin braced himself, eyes fixed on the streak of blue that was arcing towards him. He straightened and met the assault.

The first clash of blade on blade echoed throughout the hall like an explosion of thunder, shattering the eerie silence of the Temple. A surge of immense power crackled through them as the two titans collided head on. It was like two polar ends of a battery connecting and completing the circuit, sending a live current racing along its wires. Both felt it, but neither Anakin nor the Dark Lord had any time to dwell on it as their weapons connected and they began the deadly dance of death.

Anakin was experienced at dueling Sith Lords. He had fought Dooku twice and defeated him, bested the Sith disciple Asajj Ventress, fought Grievous to a standstill, and held his own against Lord Sidious in their recent confrontation. He knew how to fight them, to nullify their powers while fueling his own. At just twenty-four years old, he was renowned as a master of fighting the Dark Side.

But nothing he had ever done could have prepared him for this.

Vader wasted absolutely no time, ripping his blade up to swing at Anakin's face. Anakin brought his weapon up to parry just in time, the tremendous ferocity of the attack jarring him so hard that it nearly punched through his guard. Vader disengaged and came at him with another sweeping cut towards his midsection. Anakin brought his sword down, forcing the strike away.

Vader went into a controlled flurry, attacks coming so hard and fast that Anakin found himself immediately on the defensive. He poured his energy into meeting each of Vader's scything strikes with a parry, turning back the assault. Yet Vader did not slow down; he continued to aim cuts and stabs at different parts of Anakin's body, keeping the Jedi firmly on the defensive, with no chance of getting in a counter attack or even a disruptive parry to halt the chain of attacks. Anakin began to back up, while Vader followed him relentlessly, not giving the other man the slightest chance to rest.

Frustration began to jab at Anakin. This was not his style; he always preferred to be on the offensive in battle, doing the attacking. This battle was going to get ugly quickly if he didn't find a way to regain his form.

Anakin launched himself into the air, flipping over his opponent's head and landing in a clear space. Vader rounded on him, but Anakin brought his saber up and attacked without pause.

Now the tables had turned. Anakin came after the Dark Lord with a blinding array of cuts and slashes, too quick for the eye to follow. Blows rained down at Vader's head, chest, and torso, with occasional sweeping cuts toward his legs. Vader, seemingly recognizing the peril of Anakin's assault, smoothly changed his form. He ceased trying to attack and focused solely on blocking Anakin's strikes, moving his blade quickly and efficiently to pick off the most dangerous blows, and redirecting the others. Anakin increased the muscle behind his attacks, placing enough force in his strikes to completely shatter the guard of a lesser opponent. But Vader met the assault with the same response as before, and not one of Anakin's attacks got through.

Anakin's flurry subsided and his attacks began to slow as he recognized the futility of his assault. Vader took advantage of the moment to transition back to the offensive. He began to strike at Anakin again, moving to a more aggressive style of combat accompanied by many flips, spins, and turns. The acrobatic assault forced Anakin to keep his blade whirling around him in all directions to stop the slashes coming in from every angle.

Even as he defended himself, Anakin noticed the Dark Lord's incredibly smooth transition from one style of lightsaber combat to another. When he had faced Anakin's onslaught, he had employed Form III to keep the Chosen One at bay. As soon as Anakin had given him an opening, he had begun to combine elements of the more aggressive Form IV into his strikes until he had completely shifted. The vast majority of Jedi and Sith used only one fighting style, preferring to focus on that discipline and so achieve mastery. That Vader was able to utilize two such radically different styles equally effectively told Anakin that he was facing an incredibly deadly foe.

Through the mask of shadows, he could just make out Vader grinning. The Dark Lord made a particularly violent jab at Anakin's chest, requiring him to leap to the side to avoid being impaled. Vader chained together another series of intricate stabs and slices, while Anakin retreated steadily backward. The Chosen One felt anger creeping into him as the Dark Lord forced him off his traditional fighting style. Two could play that game.

Anakin launched himself at Vader, disregarding defense to meet the Dark Lord head-on. His blade became a fence of light as he made impossibly fast jabs and cuts at his foe, abandoning the wide sweeping slashes he had been employing while executing Form V. The confident smile faded from Vader's face as he was forced to work furiously to parry Anakin's blows. When he tried to counterattack, Anakin retreated, perfectly balanced as he waited for his next opening a second later.

Vader studied the young knight intently. "Your skills are more far-reaching than I expected," he said approvingly as he batted away another seeking jab. "You have been studying Form II as well."

Anakin's lip curled in a mixture of pride and derision. "You'll find I'm full of surprises."

The Dark Lord laughed. "Ingenious."

Anakin came at him again, but Vader leapt high into the air, somersaulting over his head and coming down towards Anakin's opposite side. Anakin whirled around to face him, but the Dark Lord had vanished.

Anakin had only a millisecond to register his surprise. Vader's blue blade came crashing down at his head. Anakin brought his weapon up to block, holding the deadly energy away from his neck. The Sith revealed himself again, dropping to the ground from where he had suspended himself in midair. "Then again," he said mockingly, "Skill alone does not define a warrior."

Anakin snarled and ripped his blade free. Vader struck at him again, and once more the two gladiators dueled, freely changing form and positions as each sought to wear down his opponent.

As they fought, Anakin sensed something strange rippling through the Force around his opponent. He had no idea how long they had been fighting, but it was long enough that all but the most skilled combatants would be trembling with exhaustion. Anakin was not; he was so proficient as a fighter and in such tremendous physical condition that his muscles were not straining under the exertion they were performing. He did not need to draw on the Force to sustain himself. He was as strong as he had been when the fight had begun.

Vader was different. He was nowhere near his previous level.

He was getting _stronger_.

As the minutes passed, Vader's strikes had become more forceful, each carrying greater energy than they had before. It was as if the fight was fueling him, driving his power to even higher levels. The currents Anakin had sensed were waves of Dark Side power flowing into Vader's body, providing him with an unlimited supply of strength to use against Anakin. Anakin did not think Vader was even aware of the effect that was shaping him, or if he was, he certainly wasn't conducting it. The power was coming naturally to him, and should he choose to summon it consciously, the effect would be even more potent.

Vader leapt into the air again and rebounded off of a nearby statue to drive himself towards Anakin. Anakin sidestepped, reached into the Force, and shoved. A wave of power struck Vader, knocking him back and ruining his momentum. Anakin took advantage of the moment to charge him, only to find himself thrown backwards as the Dark Lord retaliated with a Force push of his own. Anakin somersaulted backwards and flipped onto his feet. Vader circled towards him, blade raised in the guard position. Anakin mirrored the action, and the two stalked each other like two jungle predators vying for supremacy.

Vader broke the respite first, and came in swinging violently. Anakin parried his attacks aggressively, seeking an opportunity to throw a wrench into the Dark Lord's assault. Vader gave him no such openings, whether Anakin used Shien or Makashi. Anakin could never recall when he had had such difficulty in reading his opponent's defenses. It was eerie how Vader seemed to know exactly what Anakin was thinking, where he was going to strike, and how to counter it. Skill could only go so far. It was almost as if the Dark Lord knew what Anakin was doing …

A brutal slash at his face banished the disconcerting thought from Anakin's mind. Furiously, he shoved Vader's blade away. He feinted an overextension, hoping to draw his opponent into an ill-timed strike, but Vader would have none of that. He retreated to the on guard position, then attacked anew. In such a manner they moved steadily across the great hall towards the sealed door of the Archives.

When the two combatants were directly in front of the door, Vader gave a determined wave of his hand. The vast portal groaned open. Vader ducked through the opening, and Anakin followed. Still locked in combat, Jedi and Sith entered the new arena as the titanic door crashed shut behind them.

* * *

Padmé glanced over her shoulder for the tenth time since they had left the elevator. To her relief, everything was as before: no sign of pursuit. The clones were either still struggling with the lockdown codes, or were searching for a new way onto their floor. Padmé returned her attention to the task at hand. They were on the topmost floor of the hospital, mainly distinguished by dark glass windows. If Bail made good on his word, then they could be out of here the clones found them. All they needed to do was get to the roof.

She heard Sabé swear as Master Windu's cot began to veer off course again, nearly colliding with the wall. The mobile bed's support system had been blown to pieces by gunfire, which caused it to be very unstable. The unconscious Jedi Master had nearly fallen out twice. They would have to ditch the bed as soon as possible, but right now even the dilapidated cart was better than her and Sabé carrying the heavy body. At least this way they could keep an eye out for trouble.

Sabé looked at her inquiringly and Padmé shook her head. "No sign of them."

Sabé did not appear soothed. "How much farther to the staircase?"

Padmé consulted her map. "About a hundred meters, then we'll be home free. Just so long as we don't run into trouble …"

She never got to finish her sentence, because a gigantic explosion ripped through the wall on their right side, sending millions of glass fragments screaming towards them.

Padmé was thrown on top of Master Windu, her momentum causing the cot to tip over. She plunged head over heels, landing behind the metal frame. She heard Sabé scream in pain and shock as a piece of glass buried itself in her arm. Padmé covered her ringing ears and peered over the edge of the cart.

Leaping through the veil of smoke and debris came the deadly assassin who had pursued them from the Recovery Wing, blaster raised and mouth curled in a determined snarl. His red eyes locked on Sabé, who had collapsed against the wall, trying to pull the knife-like glass free of her arm. Padmé saw him reach for something in his belt and move towards her friend, his look leaving no doubt that mercy was not in his heart. He raised his arm, and a flash of metal caught the light.

Without stopping to think, Padmé leapt over the ruins of the cot and slammed into the alien, sending his strike wide. She tumbled to the ground, landing on a carpet of broken glass, a piece of which nicked her hand as she pushed herself to her feet. The alien's red eyes glittered as they locked onto his new opponent. Padmé dropped into a ready stance and met him head on.

Nuruodo did not waste any energy with taunts. He came at the Senator with a punishing strike. Padmé maneuvered her hands to block his punch, the impact jarring her arms painfully. Another flash of light revealed the knife in Nuruodo's left hand. He slashed at her. Padmé leapt backwards to avoid it, fumbling to free her own knife from its loop on her belt.

Nuruodo struck again, this time with his gauntleted hand. Again, Padmé repelled the blow. She succeeded in drawing her weapon, and brandished it at her much larger and stronger foe. A faint smile that might have been one of respect flitted across Nuruodo's mouth before he lunged again.

Padmé parried the knife with her own blade, then countered a deadly reversal. Nuruodo forced her back, blade moving so quickly that she could barely follow it with her eyes. Years of training paid off as she avoided death by a millimeter again and again.

With a determined groan, Sabé ripped the throbbing glass dagger free. She watched in terrified apprehension as her friend parried the alien's cuts and dodged his punches, all the while exerting more and more energy. Sabé knew that Padmé was skilled, but she couldn't hold off the Chancellor's assassin much longer.

Nuruodo feinted with his weapon hand, drawing Padmé left, then spun around and slashed. Padmé screamed as the blade sliced her arm, leaving a long gash that rapidly began to well up with blood. Sabé spied her blaster lying discarded close by. She seized it at and fired at Nuruodo's back.

Nuruodo heard the weapon discharge, and leapt out of its path. Padmé ducked as well. The bolt streaked harmlessly off down the corridor. Sabé pulled herself to her feet, just in time to see Nuruodo turn to face her. The alien switched targets and came after her. Sabé seized the bloody piece of glass and struck at him. The improvised dagger sliced through his cloak, then rebounded off of the body armor underneath. Then Nuruodo hit her in the stomach. Sabé doubled over, the breath driven from her lungs. Nuruodo brought his elbow crashing down towards the back of her neck, but Sabé dropped to the floor and kicked out at his knee. Nuruodo grunted in pain and stumbled back, giving Sabé time to climb to her feet.

Sabé pressed her momentary advantage, and punched the reeling Chiss in the face. Nuruodo's head snapped backward. Sabé drew back her hand again, intending to follow up with a finishing blow, but before her fist struck his face again, Nuruodo grabbed her wrist, twisted it painfully, and flung her back down the hall. Sabé slid on the broken glass while Padmé yelled her name and rushed the Chiss from behind. Nuruodo saw her coming and turned to meet the threat. But suddenly, as Sabé struggled to her feet, Nuruodo spun around and threw his knife. The long, sharp blade impaled Sabé through the shoulder.

Sabé screamed and fell back onto the floor, grasping blindly at her agonized arm. Padmé screamed as well, shocked and enraged as her friend was dispatched from the fight. She leapt at Nuruodo, her blade searching for his throat.

Nuruodo parried the strike with his gloved hand, then swung out his arm and sent Padmé sprawling, the knife flying from her grasp. Padmé hit the wall, and landed hard on the floor, glass cracking underneath her. The Chiss picked up his blaster from where he had discarded it and flicked the setting. Padmé tensed, sure he was going to put a laser bolt through her heart, but then she heard a groan. Nuruodo looked past her towards the ruined cot – towards Master Windu.

He advanced towards the helpless Jedi Master, weapon raised, intent on fulfilling the mission his Master had commissioned him before he took care of the witnesses. Determination flooded Padmé's body, giving her new strength. As Nuruodo passed her and squeezed the trigger, Padmé snapped her legs together, scissoring Nuruodo's legs from under him.

The Chiss crashed to the floor, and his shot went wide. Padmé struggled to her knees, then threw herself on top of him, knocking the blaster from his hand with a paralyzing blow. Nuruodo struck her with his fist; Padmé returned the blow, keeping her adversary pinned to the floor. She hit him again, trying to knock him unconscious before he could free himself.

Nuruodo seized the front of her shirt and flung her off of him. Padmé struck the wall, causing an explosion of pain. Darkness began to swirl at the corners of her vision. Dimly, she saw Nuruodo pull himself to his feet. He picked up the discarded blaster and pointed it at her face. Padmé tried to stand up, but her legs would not obey her. Nuruodo hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not she was still a threat or if he should let her be, then his face hardened and he aimed at her again …

A wave of Force energy pulsed through the corridor, so strong that it pinned Padmé against the wall. The wave hit Nuruodo directly in the chest, picked him up, and sent him flying down the hall. He went crashing through the window at the far end and disappeared.

Padmé let out a deep breath and looked up to see who had saved her. She found herself looking into the concerned, exhausted eyes of Jedi Master Mace Windu.

Mace let his hand, which he had extended in the direction Nuruodo had disappeared, hang up for a moment longer, then he let it fall to his side. The Jedi Master stepped over the broken remains of the cot, winced as he walked across the broken glass barefoot, then extended his hand to the shaken woman. "Senator Amidala, are you alright?"

Padmé nodded and grasped Mace's hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. "I'm fine. Thank you for saving my life."

"You have done the same for me," Mace said quietly, brushing off some glass fragments away from the cut on Padmé's arm, then examining her face with a careful eye. "Those are some unpleasant marks you have there."

Padmé touched her face gingerly, where a livid bruise was rising just underneath her left eye. "It's nothing. But Sabé … Sabé!"

She hurried to her friend's side. Amazingly, Sabé was conscious, but her face was screwed up in pain, and her hand was locked on the handle of the knife still protruding from her shoulder. Mace made his way over as well and knelt down beside the handmaiden. "Sabé?" he asked. "Are you in pain?"

Sabé grimaced bitterly. "Well, I've got a piece of sharp metal in my shoulder. What do you think?"

Mace smiled. "Then the nerve is intact. Try and relax. I'm going to pull it out."

Padmé held her friend's hand as Mace gently pulled the knife free. He examined the blade for a moment, then tossed it aside, ripped off a piece of material from his hospital smock, then began to bind Sabé's wound. "There. Can you stand?"

Sabé rose shakily to her feet. "Yes, I can. Thank you."

Seeing that her friend was safe, Padmé turned to Master Windu. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to talk, Master Windu. Bail Organa is going to meet us on the roof. We'll get you better care there. Then I …"

Mace raised an eyebrow. "Then you need to find your husband, is that right?"

"Y ..Yes," Padmé admitted. She hung her head to avoid looking at the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan had told her Mace knew, but …

"Don't worry, Padmé. We will find Anakin. If anyone can hold off Palpatine …"

A grappling hook shot through the shattered window and fastened itself to the sill. Moments later, a gloved hand appeared, pulling someone up from below.

"It's him," Sabé gasped. "He just doesn't die!"

Mace took action. "Senator Amidala, can you lead us to the roof?"

"Yes," Padmé grabbed her blaster and started off towards the staircase. "Follow me."

* * *

They sprinted up the staircase as quickly as possible. This was not extremely fast owing to their injuries, particularly Master Windu, who was still unsteady on his feet. But they managed to reach the top just as they heard the assassin start his ascent. Padmé looked for an exit and spied an old service door that lead outside. She raced towards it and punched the control button. Nothing happened.

She tried again, with no success. Furiously, she ripped off a panel and tried to cross the wires, but still nothing happened. Nuruodo's foosteps grew louder. Padmé kicked the door in frustration. "We're trapped!"

Mace stepped forward and raised his new mechanical arm to the light, critiquing it with a dubious eye. Seeming to come to a decision, he moved past Padmé and drove his metal fist into the control panel.

There was an explosion of sparks, then a hissing as the door swung open. Mace led the way out onto the roof.

The wind tore at the three companions as they emerged, threatening to drive them off the edge. They were standing on an empty service platform, at least fifty stories up. Dozens of speeders flashed by, but a quick scan of the horizon did not reveal Bail's. Padmé anxiously tapped her foot and looked back at the ruined door. They didn't have long.

"Look!" Sabé yelled.

Padmé turned her head to see a dark speeder zooming towards them at top speed. That had to be Bail. As the vehicle drew closer, she could actually see him standing up, waving to them as someone else guided the craft in. The two women and the Jedi Master hurried to the edge of the platform.

The woman driving the speeder brought it down level with the roof of the building. Bail leapt onto the platform and grasped Padmé's hand. "My dear friend, I got here as soon as I could. Are you alright?"

Padmé embraced him in thanks. "We're alive, at least. There will be a few things to take care of, but nothing life-threatening."

"We can do that back on my ship. There are developments that we need to discuss …"

Sabé screamed a warning. Padmé and Bail looked up to see the Chancellor's agent on the other side of the platform, blaster in hand and face snarling with rage. Padmé pushed Bail back towards the speeder. "Go, go!"

Nuruodo sprinted towards them, blaster firing with deadly precision. Mace pulled himself into the speeder, then reached back to help Sabé climb aboard. Padmé leapt into the back seat, landing hard. Bail followed her leaping indiscriminately into the air, as a blaster bolt burned the ground where he had be standing a second before. Something clattered from his belt onto the platform. Bail's aide began to fire up the engines, while Nuruodo barreled towards them, his continuous salvo forcing them to keep low.

The engines roared to life. The Chiss, three quarters of the way across the platform, halted his charge, recognizing that his prey had eluded him. Padmé was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Nuruodo took something from his belt and flung it at their speeder. It landed right in between Bail and Padmé: a small silver sphere that was beeping faster and faster …

Bail grabbed it and threw it back onto the platform. "Go!" he yelled to his aide. "It's going to …"

The woman whirled the vehicle around and sped away from the platform, just as the thermal detonator exploded.

A white-hot sphere of baridium explosive ripped through the platform, the sound of the explosion deafening everyone in the speeder. It rapidly expanded, hungry flames chasing after the fleeing passengers as their vehicle shook and groaned. Then they were free, soaring off into the night.

Mirthrada Nuruodo lowered his blaster and clipped it back onto his belt as he watched the Senator's speeder fly off into the city lights. He kept his eyes fixed on the tiny dot as it drew further and further away, until it finally disappeared altogether.

So Jedi Master Mace Windu had escaped. Quite remarkable, considering how close to death he had been. Of course, he had been aided by the Senator from Naboo and her companion, who had put up more resistance than he had anticipated. It had been awhile since he had actually experienced a challenge, and he had rather relished it. That did not change the fact that this was the first time he had ever failed to apprehend his target, but there would be another time. Even Jedi could not elude him for long.

Still, he was not eagerly anticipating going back to the old fool empty-handed. Lord Sidious was liable to vent his displeasure violently. Nuruodo tensed in anger as he remembered the scars and burns he had sustained the last time he had incurred his Master's wrath. Lord Sidious was brilliant and powerful, but Nuruodo found the man's insatiable appetite for cruelty and suffering contemptible. If he did not curb such tastes, it would not be long before his new apprentice destroyed him.

Nuruodo walked to the edge of the platform where the speeder had docked, now melted and burned from his grenade. There was little for it. He was going to have to go back to Sidious, report his failure, and endure the consequences. He hit the signal button on his communicator, signaling his troops to pull out. Their mission here was done.

As he turned to leave, something touched his boot. Nuruodo bent down and picked it up. It was a datapad, likely dropped by Senator Organa or his aide during the escape. To his surprise, it still functioned. If it was sturdy enough to survive a thermal detonator, then it must contain something valuable,

Nuruodo activated it and began to scan the contents. As he did, a triumphant smile rose onto his lips, a rare expression for the ruthless agent.

Yes … yes, this would be most useful. Lord Sidious would value this just as much as the life of a maimed Jedi Master. This was not a trophy. This was a weapon he could use.

He stored the datapad in a pouch on his belt, then turned and headed back the way he had come. He brought his hand to his face and wiped away the trace of blood there, a memory of his plunge through the window and his near brush with death. He brought the hand before his eyes and examined the red stain, silhouetted against his black glove.

_We shall meet again, Master Windu_, he thought to himself. _Now, there is nowhere for you to hide._

* * *

Next chapter is all duel. And trust me, it will be _intense_. 


	32. The Archives

Hello once again! I apologize for the delay in posting; summer work has occupied much of my time. The duel continues, and the stakes have been raised. I hope you enjoy both this installment, and the conclusion in the next post a few days later!

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**Chapter 32**

The giant door to the Archives slammed shut, sealing the two duelists inside the vast hall strewn with bodies. The silent faces of at least thirty Jedi were visible from the center of the room, eyes dull and vacant from where once the glowing spark of light had shone. Now, their bodies were like the hall, like the Temple itself: empty and cold, the bitter remains of what had once been great. The proud Archives had been raped and defiled; surrendering its knowledge and its glory for ignorance and ignominy. No trace of warmth resided there, no sentient minds, no vessels of life.

Save two.

Vader lowered his weapon to the guard position and stared hard at his former pupil's face. He knew it well, for it had been his constant companion for near thirteen years. During his imprisonment, Anakin's features had faded along with all others into the void of despair, but in the light of freedom they had come rushing back to him. The brilliant blue eyes, the sharp features, and the scar marking his face just next to his right eye, whose companion Vader now bore. Anakin was still Anakin; still brash and confident, but undyingly loyal. Still burdened by the expectations of others and himself, but he was still focused and resolute. Unlike Vader, Anakin had not changed a great deal.

Yet he could see more lines in his brow, and several scars that had not been there a few months ago. And the smile … the smile that he had known so well was gone, replaced by a determined scowl. Anakin believed him to be his enemy. To Vader, Anakin was still a brother and a friend, the one thing that had not been ripped away by the treacherous Jedi. Yet he could not reveal himself; he had to maintain the charade. Anakin could only live if he joined the Sith. Vader had to destroy the Jedi in him while leaving the living form intact. Anger and hatred stirred in the Chosen One. Vader needed to draw it out. If he could not, then he would be forced to kill Anakin. And for all his Dark Side power, that was the one thing Vader did not know if he had the strength to do.

He brought his weapon back up. He would not dwell on such things. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith. No obstacle was insurmountable.

He and Anakin circled each other for another moment, then simultaneously they converged. Their blue blades crackled with energy as they clashed once again.

Vader took the offensive, driving straight ahead at Anakin with deliberate precision. Anakin met each forceful strike with a quick parry, turning the point of Vader's weapon away. Vader swung at Anakin's midsection, reversed his grip and brought his blade up to slash at Anakin's face. Anakin dodged and thrust straight ahead, trying to spear Vader's abdomen. The Dark Lord flipped backwards, then pivoted and did a full spin, bringing his blade back down in a ferocious slash. Anakin parried it with difficultly, then smoothly dropped back. He charged at Vader from a new angle, forcing the Dark Lord to adjust his position. Now Anakin sought to undercut Vader's guard and force him out of the cleared center of the room. The Sith held firm.

Anakin launched himself into the air. He struck at Vader as he flipped over him. Vader batted away the blade that would have cleaved his skull in two. Anakin landed in perfect balance facing Vader. The two combatants swung at exactly the same time, and their weapons locked. They both shoved furiously with their weapons, trying to force the other back and gain the advantage. Neither succeeded in their endeavor. They were evenly matched. Stalemate.

Jedi and Sith broke the lock simultaneously and returned to trading slashes at impossibly fast speeds. They momentum of the battle fluctuated back and forth so fast it was almost impossible to tell it was changing at all. Neither combatant held the edge for more than a second. Neither could get close to drawing blood. Vader chained together combinations of attacks he had never before used, the power of the Dark Side fueling him incessantly, refusing to allow him to make a mistake. His cuts were so precise that he could have picked out an individual cell on Anakin's arm and targeted it. But Anakin was equally precise. It was impossible to fool him with feints or reversals: he met each in turn and neutralized it, before unleashing his own controlled assault. Few Jedi had ever channeled such power from the Force and turned it against an enemy. Few Sith or other disciples of the Dark Side could have borne it. Darth Maul would have fallen. Dooku would have been crushed. Asajj Ventress would have slid to the floor, burned and broken. But Vader did not move. He did not fall. He faced the howling winds of Anakin's power and withstood them, as unshakeable as a mountain.

There were no witnesses to the duel. Had an untrained observer walked in at that moment, he would have been able to see two of the best duelists in the galaxy throw waves of light at each other, and have been awed by the spectacle. But had a force-sensitive been able to witness the duel, they would have been blinded. On a higher plane, Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were _spectacular_.

A corona of shimmering power surrounded both Jedi and Sith, full of shifting colors and swirling waves. Each signature was distinctive and never repeated. Around Vader, there was an angry red nebula, swirling like a storm of fire around a pulsing heart of darkness. The energy danced and crackled, radiating heat and power like a supernova. Flashes of light sprang into existence, then faded, only to rematerialize elsewhere. Gradually however, such pulses drew closer and closer to the center, and were swallowed up into the infinite darkness of the center, a black hole from which there was no escape. With each dying flare, the red cloud deepened, growing more ominous and threatening, casting its burning glow throughout the hall.

Around Anakin, there was no such absolution. His aura shone brighter than Vader's, emitting a blinding array of blue and violet light that seared the air around it, infusing it with an electric charge. The center of the star shone brightest of all, its intensity permeating the entire spectrum. Yet unlike the dark center of Vader's power, the brilliant light did not stay constant. Frequent pulses of darkness dimmed the glow, distorting the light around them into twisted flashes of radiant color. From such interactions, hot red embers shone, gathering together one moment, then dispersing the next. Anakin's aura was constantly shifting, going from unchecked brilliant light to an angry roiling blaze, strong enough to resist the inevitable pull of his opponent. Thousands of these shifts occurred every minute, blurring Anakin's edges with various chords of harmony and disunity, conviction and doubt, love and rage.

These two storms came together at the edges. With every stroke of the blade, every determined parry, every counterattack, disruptive energy crackled through the Force. Violent purple flames and sparks leapt from the combatant's blades and joined the shimmering edges of the two nebulas, strengthening them, yet distorting them at the same time. The longer they fought, the more pronounced the effect. With a trained eye, one could see that such unnatural concentrations of power could not last, nor could two such resolutely opposing forces. It was only a matter of time before the two merged completely and unleashed a tremendous shockwave that would save or destroy the entire galaxy.

It was breathtaking.

It was beautiful.

It was deadly.

Vader and Anakin were oblivious to the effects of their power. Each was focused only the source; their opponent standing against them. Blue eyes burned into blue eyes. Blue blade clashed on blue blade. They were mirror images of each other, yet they stood on opposite sides of the horizon.

Vader growled in anger as Anakin parried him yet again. This was useless. He and his former apprentice were too evenly matched. They could stand here, dueling, until his Master's empire flamed out and the foundations of the Jedi Temple crumbled into dust. Something needed to be done to break the balance. Anakin was conflicted, he could see, but he was not shifting. Every time the anger surged within him, he unconsciously forced it back down. The wall the Jedi had built in his mind needed to be shattered, and the torrential flood it blocked released. In his mind's eye, Vader could see the weak spots, the shatterpoints he could strike to break the wall. They were many and varied, but there was one that caught his eye. An evil smile flickered onto Vader's lips. Yes … that one was sure to push Anakin over the edge. First, though, he had to lead him to the precipice.

Vader leapt backwards, away from Anakin and the center of the room. The Jedi followed him. Vader reached the edge of the cleared space, and entered the maze of strewn bodies that littered the Temple floor. His footing became precarious, but he did not slip. Anakin breached the line as well, stepping over the body of a slain Weequay. Vader grinned and beckoned him. A snarl appeared on Anakin's face as he launched himself deeper into the carnage towards Vader.

A ferocious slash came down at Vader's head. The Dark Lord countered, then swung at Anakin's legs. The Jedi jumped over the scything blade and landed, nearly stumbling over a body at his feet. Vader pushed forward, forcing Anakin to make an ungainly retreat, defending himself while avoiding the corpses that would cause him to fall.

Vader drove him back towards the Archive shelves. Anakin could sense that he was only seconds away from having his back to the wall. He refused to be cornered. When they were only two meters away, Anakin leapt back and rebounded off the shelf, using the Force to carry himself well over Vader back towards relatively open space. He landed near a glowing glass sphere depicting the known galaxy, that had somehow escaped destruction during the battle. The shock of him landing upset the base, and the priceless sphere toppled, shattering on the floor.

Anakin winced internally. _If Jocasta Nu were here, she would kill me in a second._ It was only then that he noticed Jocasta Nu's body lying at the base of a shelf in a pool of blood, her eyes glassy and vacant.

Vader rounded on Anakin, annoyed that the Jedi had maneuvered himself out of trouble. He leapt into the air towards him. Anakin jumped as well. They collided in the air and struck at each other with such force that they both lost their balance. Each came down hard and rolled across the floor away from each other.

Vader rose first and brought his lightsaber back to his hand. He watched as Anakin picked himself up slowly. Blood ran down the young Jedi's neck from a long cut on his cheek, likely caused by the strewn glass. Anakin touched the red stream with his left hand, looked at it disinterestedly, and then wiped it on his tunic. The stream continued to run, but Anakin disregarded it. He looked at Vader coldly, then raised an eyebrow. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Oh no, my friend," Vader smiled. "You are not the only one capable of improvisation. Your environment can be a powerful weapon."

"I'll keep that in mind," Anakin said seriously. "But a little blood means absolutely nothing."

"So resilient, so confident," Vader said almost wistfully. "True virtues of a Jedi. Your Master would be proud."

Anger crept onto Anakin's face. "I told you not to insult my Master by speaking about him!"

"And I told you, Anakin," Vader said coolly, "That I knew your Master well. He put a particular emphasis on such traits as you exhibit." The Dark Lord laughed bitterly. "It's a pity he couldn't express them himself."

"You know _nothing_," Anakin growled. "Obi-Wan was … is … one of the greatest and strongest Jedi the Order has ever known!"

Vader's hidden face mocked him. "Oh? Why then, did he refuse to save himself when he was taken prisoner? Why did he give up when he lost his power? Why did he did he allow himself to be destroyed instead of fighting back? Is this the noble Master you remember?"

Anakin took a menacing step towards the Sith Lord, lightsaber raised. "Shut up!"

Vader's mocking grin widened. "I am an advocate of the truth, Anakin. When Grievous captured your Master, Obi-Wan could have crushed the metal scum in an instant. But he didn't. He was afraid. He wouldn't use the power that he had at his fingertips. It was pitiful to see such a revered man reduced to such helplessness. I tried to convince him to save himself, but he just refused to act. So finally, I was left with no choice. I think it came as a relief when I destroyed him."

Icy horror poured through Anakin's veins, as though all the blood in his body had frozen. His mouth went dry, and his head pounded furiously. No … it couldn't be …

"That's a lie!" Anakin snarled through clenched teeth, though he could feel himself shaking violently. "Obi-Wan could never be defeated by someone like you!"

Vader laughed coldly. "Who said I killed him? I said I destroyed him. Grievous took care of the former. But I was there when he fell. I saw him gasp his last breath. Then I did what he could not: unleashed the true power of the Force and annihilated the General. I succeeded where he failed. I lived while he died." Vader bared his teeth savagely. "I only did what was necessary. Someone so weak did not deserve his power, and did not deserve to live."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Anakin rushed Vader at incredible speed, abandoning any pretense of caution he might have been entertaining. Pure hatred mutilated his face as he flung himself at the Sith Lord, saber raised to skewer his heart.

Vader was thrown backwards by the sheer ferocity of Anakin's attack. The confident, mocking grin he had been wearing faded as he was forced to flail furiously to defend himself. Anakin's blade was everywhere at once; so much so that as fast as Vader was moving, only sheer chance allowed him to intercept the Chosen One's blade twice. He was forced to call upon the Force to shore up his guard. If he had not, Anakin's strikes would have driven right through.

The spectrum of Anakin's aura shifted, becoming darker as red infernos erupted from the embers that had previously only glowed rebelliously. Heat began to radiate from the Jedi as the fire that had been lit in his soul began to force its way out of the vessel that contained it. The speed of Anakin's attacks redoubled.

He slashed at Vader's chest. The Dark Lord countered, staggering under the effort of repelling the attack. Anakin revered the flow of his assault and ripped his weapon back across. Vader threw himself backwards, and Anakin's blade refracted off of his cortosis-weave armor, failing to penetrate, but leaving a black scar behind. Anakin snarled and raised his weapon, bringing it down at Vader's head. Vader brought his saber up to block, and caught the descending beam, gritting his teeth as he held it away from him. Anakin broke the lock and swept his weapon down at Vader's legs. The Dark Lord leapt up and back, away from the crackling storm of Anakin's power, which was growing stronger.

Anakin bulled forward at Vader with a fresh wave of fury. Vader met him again, and was once more thrown unmercifully on the defensive. As he fought for his life, he noticed that Anakin's eyes were shifting: from blue to burning yellow then back to blue again. The Chosen One was losing control.

Vader needed to gain space. He shoved out at his former pupil with the Force, knocking him back half a meter. A wave of dust was blown into the air and into Anakin's eyes. Anakin grimaced and struck blindly. Vader felt the hot blade drive through his armor and burn the skin of his arm. He lunged at Anakin, intending to get back on the offensive.

It came before he could see it. A warning screamed through the Force, and Vader took his eyes off Anakin just long enough to see the heavy marble bust of Count Dooku rocket through the air before it smashed brutally into him.

Vader was picked up like a leaf in a gale and thrown thirty meters towards the far end of the hall. He collided hard with a far shelf, only a quick save from the Force preventing his spine from snapping. The statue that had borne him slammed into his chest. Vader immediately felt an explosion of crushing pain. He slid to the floor.

Dooku's statue rolled away from him, leaving Vader slumped against the shelf. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. As soon as he regained the ability, he wished he hadn't. Every gasp was a crippling agony.

Vader looked down to see blood staining his armor. At least two ribs had were broken: he could feel their sharp ends stabbing him just below the skin. But that shouldn't have been causing all the blood. The statue that had struck him had no sharp edges. Full of foreboding, Vader probed the wounded area with the Force.

The signature of the wound was unmistakable. He could feel the traces of his own blade, and of the General's malice. His chest wound had reopened.

Vader snarled in disgust. He was weakened, greatly so. He was bleeding internally. The mechanical device Nurrudo had implanted to supplement his damaged lung had been destroyed. He coughed raggedly as his left lung worked overtime to bring oxygen to his muscles. Silently, Vader cursed his master for ordering him to provoke Anakin. It was obvious that he had gone too far. He had been unprepared, and the resulting surge of power had been too much for him to handle. Clearly, it wasn't wise to anger the Chosen One.

Speaking of which …

He looked wildly about for Anakin. He couldn't just have disappeared. Vader hadn't been immobilized for more than a few seconds. Where was he?

An urgent warning from the Force answered his question.

Vader rolled out of the way as Anakin's blue saber came crashing down where his neck had been half a second before. The Jedi's look of deadly resolve was terrifying, and the constant shifting of his eyes only amplified the effect. Conscious of his precarious position, Vader scrambled for his lightsaber. Anakin struck at him again, nearly taking off Vader's leg. The Dark Lord forced himself to his knees and ignited his weapon.

Anakin kicked him brutally in his wounded chest. Vader fell back, the lightsaber flying from his grasp as he clutched at his ribcage. He keeled onto the floor, his lightsaber centimeters beyond his grasp.

Anakin stood over him, contempt burned into his agonized, hate-filled features. He gestured at the lightsaber. "Pick it up, scum!"

Vader glared up at Anakin. The echo of his old words to Grievous stung him. If he did not get up, he was going to be cut down like the General. Cut down by Anakin Skywalker, his former student and best friend, whom he had come to recruit to his cause. He had a job to do; he could not fail.

Damn his injuries. Damn his sentiments. They were nothing. Anakin might be the Chosen One, but Vader was a Dark Lord of the Sith.

He reached deep inside himself, letting the agony of his wound course through him. He channeled deeper inside, to his core. The pain became an unlimited supply of fuel, feeding Vader's staggering power. An inferno erupted inside him, filling him with strength and heat. His aura darkened ominously.

Anakin was oblivious to the gathering energies inside his opponent. His eyes were fixed on the Sith's shrouded face. Soon, that face would be revealed. Padmé would be safe. Obi-Wan would be avenged. With a yell, he brought his blade down.

Faster than anyone would have believed possible, Vader threw himself out of the way. Anakin's blade hit nothing but air. Vader rolled towards his weapon, seized it, and pushed himself to one knee. Anakin whirled on him and struck.

Vader's blue blade sprang to life, intercepting Anakin's killing blow. The Jedi pushed down hard, trying to use his greater leverage to drive both blades down into Vader's neck. But the Dark Lord did not bend, nor did he break.

Against the laws of physics, against all sensible rationality, Vader began to rise. Dark Side energy filled him, lending tremendous strength to his legs as he pushed Anakin's weapon back. Disbelief flashed across Anakin's face as the apparently reincarnated Sith Lord rose completely to his feet. They were eye to eye now, and though Vader's face was hidden, Anakin could make out a grin.

"Nice try, Anakin."

Then Vader sprang into action, moving faster than he had before he was injured. For the first time in several minutes, Anakin found himself on the defensive. Vader seemed to have new life; his blade was everywhere at once. Anakin reached deeper into the Force, searching for additional strength to turn against the whirlwind that was Darth Vader. Seconds ago, he had had this fight won. Now, they were battling harder than before.

Vader's cuts and stabs came in hard and fast, and Anakin fell back. The Dark Lord was consciously channeling his power now. The effect Anakin had noticed back in the main hall had redoubled. He remembered thinking how if Vader ever started to intentionally siphon Dark Side power into his body, he would become even more dangerous. _Dangerous_ did not describe the effect accurately. Vader capable of annihilating him utterly. He seemed to be a malicious void, knowingly drawing all the power around him he could muster inside his body, then turning it loose in a focused wave of destruction. As Vader battered at Anakin's defenses, the Jedi knew that the time for skirting the edge was over. If he wanted to defeat Vader, he would have to build on what he had unleashed just a few minutes ago. Fire needed to be fought with fire.

A boiling wave rose in Anakin's chest, spreading to his limbs and filling them with new energy. His arm, rose unconsciously, and he felt himself reach out and grasp another statue, even bigger than before. His mind seized it and sent it flying towards Vader's back.

Vader sprang into the air, flipping easily over the streaking missile and letting it smash harmlessly into a nearby shelf. He landed effortlessly, then gestured towards the far end of the hall. A table rose into the air and came flying at Anakin, warping the air in its wake.

Anakin leapt aside, dogging the wooden projectile. He headed for Vader again. As he did so, two metal desks rose behind him, hovering at his shoulders before they shot one after another at Vader's chest. The Dark Lord pulled a second table into the air and placed it in front of him, forming a shield off of which Anakin's projectiles deflected. The table shot towards the Jedi at head height.

Anakin kept on running towards the missile, then brought up his weapon and cut it cleanly in half. The two pieces tumbled to the floor. Snarling determinedly, Anakin continued his headlong rush.

A sudden wind swirled about Vader, and a thousand pieces of broken glass and marble rose into the air, spinning around him like a whirlwind. Anakin halted his rush before he entered the howling edges of the storm. Vader stood at the center, calmly staring at him, then Anakin saw his eyes flash. A warning sprang into his mind, and he flung himself behind a nearby shelf.

The debris shot towards him, bending around the edge of his shelter. Anakin covered his face with his shirt as the biting dust cut at his skin. It felt like he was trapped in a sandstorm on Tatooine. Dimly, he was aware of Vader advancing on him.

Blindly, he ran the other way through the maze of tall shelves, trusting the Force to lead him out. The stinging wind began to subside, and Anakin looked around. He had emerged near a gaping hole in the wall, where an entire colossal shelf had been brought down. Through the opening he could see dancing waves of reflected light, and hear the trickle of running water. The passage must open into the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

He heard a noise behind him, and turned to face it. Darth Vader emerged from the gap in the shelves, heading towards him. Anakin leapt on top of the destroyed shelf, resting at an incline on the wall. He stood there tauntingly, baiting his enemy to come to him. Vader took the invitation, treading indifferently on a dead arm that was poking from underneath the immeasurable weight of the shelf as he climbed onto the platform. Anakin did not bother with more Force attacks; he waited until Vader was almost level with him, then lashed out with a fury. Despite being at a disadvantage, Vader caught the blow with effort, then turned it on Anakin. The Jedi let his primal love of combat guide him, fed by the strong pulses of anger that were becoming more and more difficult to contain. A smile played of Vader's lips as he maneuvered up the incline, guiding the pair of them up through the hole and out of the Archives. They jumped as one into the passage and continued to duel fiercely as they transversed the wide corridor towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains, their blades never stopping, their dance never ceasing, their wills never breaking.

* * *

Padmé clambered over the divider into the front passenger's seat of the speeder. She collapsed into it, letting the wind blow loose locks of hair across her face as the Coruscant Medical Institute faded into the distance. Bail, who had taken the controls as soon as they were clear, looked over at her. "Well, that was close, eh?"

Padmé nodded, her breathing still not having settled to normal. The pulse of adrenaline that had kept her and her unborn child alive throughout their escape was only now fading, and she was becoming aware of just how truly exhausted she was. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes and letting the night air rush over her, soothing away the tension in her muscles. Bail looked away and primed the comm unit. "My ship is waiting for us in low orbit. I will tell Captain Antilles to meet us near the Residential District. Then we can get off Coruscant."

Padmé opened her eyes. "Bail, we can't. Or at least, I can't. I have something I need to do first."

Bail looked at her incredulously. "Padmé, do you realize just how close you came to being killed back there? You're in no condition for another ordeal. As soon as we're all on board, you need medical treatment and rest."

"No Bail, what I need is to find Anakin. I'll rest when this is over."

Bail's expression grew suspicious. "Padmé, you know Anakin is a Jedi. He is more than capable of handling himself in a dangerous situation, even something as catastrophic as this. I know he's your friend, but you have no responsibility to him …"

"I _do_ have a responsibility to him," Padmé said firmly. She probably shouldn't be saying this yet, but Bail had certainly proven himself trustworthy, and she was tired of lying. "He's my husband."

Bail jerked in surprise so abruptly that he nearly sent the speeder spinning out of the traffic lane. After regaining control and waving an apology to a rudely blaring driver, he turned to look at Padmé with an expression of total shock. "Your _husband_?"

"Yes," Padmé said tiredly. "We've been married for three years, since right after Geonosis."

Bail was looking at her like she was a completely different person. She felt a little sorry for springing this news on him just minutes after someone had tried to blow him to oblivion, but her worry for Anakin was trumping her reservations. She was not leaving without him.

"How in the hell did you …"

Padmé cut him off. "I'll explain everything later, Bail. I promise. But right now, we have to get to Anakin. He's in great danger."

Bail looked like he was about to argue, but stopped himself. Instead, he jerked his head towards the backseat. "What about them? Do we take them with us?"

Padmé turned her head to look at their passengers. Directly behind her, Sheltay was sitting next to Master Windu, applying an adhesive bandage to a fresh cut on the Jedi Master's forehead. Mace's eyes were closed and he appeared to be meditating, but he answered Sheltay yes when she asked if the stinging had subsided. In the seat behind Bail, Sabé lay back, staring out at the city lights, her freshly bandaged arm pressed gingerly against the side of the speeder. Her expression was unreadable. Padmé turned back to Bail. "When we find out where Anakin is, you can take them back to your ship. They've been through enough. I can handle this."

Bail frowned. "Hold on, Padmé. I am not leaving you alone on this planet with Palpatine sending psychopath assassins after you. I'm coming with you."

Padmé closed her eyes. "Bail, please. I can handle myself, and if I can't, Anakin will be there. You've already done so much for me. I don't want you to get hurt when this isn't your fight."

Bail laughed bitterly. "Isn't my fight? Padmé, right after you called me, a squad of Palpatine's guards kicked down my door and tried to arrest me. They know I've been helping you, and if you think they're just going to let me walk away, you're crazy. Come hell or high water, I'm seeing this through. What's your plan?"

"I believe that's something we would all like to know, Senator," someone said from the back seat. Padmé looked over her shoulder to see Master Windu, a fresh bandage circling his shaven head like a bandana, sitting forward and looking at her intently. The Jedi Master continued. "Anakin is likely being pursued. He will not be easy to track down. How do you propose that we find him?"

Padmé started to protest, then bit her tongue. Though she was reluctant to drag them into further danger, she was touched that Bail and Master Windu were insisting on standing by her. In light of the dark events that had been set in motion, bonds of friendship and trust would need to be stronger than ever. If such virtues of loyalty and self-sacrifice could be found in others, then perhaps there was hope after all. She took a deep breath.

"We should start at my apartment. I know that Anakin wanted to make sure that I'm safe. He called me a few hours ago and begged me to get me off the planet. If he knows I'm still here, he'll come looking for me to make sure that I leave. He might be there now …"

Padmé's vision suddenly blurred, and dark lines began to dance in front of her, taking Mace out of focus. The noises of the rushing traffic and blaring horns became indistinguishable, then faded entirely. A new image began to materialize before Padmé's eyes. But this one, she knew instinctively, was not actually in front of her: she was seeing it with her mind.

_There was a clashing sound, so loud and so frequent that each one seemed to blend right into the next. Through the dim light, she could see part of a wide corridor, marble walls glowing incandescently from the flashes of light that cast a bluish pall on the scene. She could see two dark imposing figures standing there. Fighting. _

Padmé felt herself move closer. As she neared the combatants, the light from their luminous weapons cast their faces into view. Or one of their faces at any rate. Her heart jumped as she recognized the fierce blue eyes and determined face of her husband. Anakin!

_Anakin did not acknowledge her presence. His gaze was riveted on the face of his opponent, or rather were his face should be. A living shadow covered the dark man's features, obscuring all but the faintest contours of his countenance. But Padmé knew. An icy spear struck her heart as the dark man moved to attack Anakin._ No …

_Anakin parried the dark man's strike, his eyes glowing with a hatred so intense that Padmé instinctively drew back. The dark man laughed mockingly at Anakin's expression and lunged forward with blade extended. The searing blade of energy slipped past Anakin's guard and grazed his arm. Anakin grimaced in pain as the hot beam burned his flesh. Padmé heard herself cry out …_

"Padmé! Padmé!"

Padmé gasped and jerked involuntarily. Sabé had sprung up from the back seat and was grasping her firmly by the shoulders, trying to break her reverie. The speeder had stopped. Padmé cast her gaze wildly about and saw Bail, Mace, and Sheltay all looking at her with deep concern. Sabé looked positively terrified. "Padmé, thank the Force! You froze all of a sudden, and then you started screaming …"

Padmé gently pulled free of Sabé and sat up. What had happened to her? Anakin had told her about having visions, but she had never heard of anyone non-force sensitive having them. She hadn't expected it to be like that. The entire episode couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, but it had been so _real_ …

What she had seen returned to Padmé's mind in an instant. Her arm was burning with the pain of Anakin's wound, exactly where Vader had struck him. It took her a moment to realize that she herself had not been injured. But Anakin had … she could feel it even now.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and she collapsed back against her seat, the sudden surge of despair more she could handle. Never in her life had something terrified her more than what she had just seen.

"Padmé?" Sheltay pressed.

Padmé stared blankly out as the lights of Coruscant. "Anakin isn't at Five Hundred Replica," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. "He's at the Jedi Temple."

She closed her eyes, and her voice broke as she forced out the next two words.

"With _him_."

Sabé fell back into her seat, her hands covering her mouth. Bail and Sheltay exchanged puzzled looks. Mace frowned.

"Senator, I think you and I just shared the same vision. Anakin was in the Jedi Temple. He was fighting someone, someone very powerful … and very dark. I couldn't see his face. Do you know who it was?"

Padmé said nothing. Mace reached over and placed his hand gently on Padmé's shoulder. "Padmé?"

Slowly, Padmé opened her eyes and turned to face him. "His name is Darth Vader," she said, trying to compose herself. "He's … Sidious's new apprentice."

A grim look flashed onto Mace's features. It passed quickly. "How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

Bail looked shocked. "He _told_ you? When? How? Padmé, what is going _on_?"

Mace looked contemplatively at Padmé. "You're hiding something, Padmé. Please, for the good of everyone involved, tell me. Who is he, really?"

Sabé looked desperately at Padmé, her eyes silently pleading. Padmé hesitated, then, casting an apologetic glance at her cousin, squared her shoulders and looked straight at Master Windu. "He's … he's Obi-Wan."

Bail and Sheltay jerked around so fast that they caused the hovering speeder to wobble. Sabé looked at the floor, her shoulders shaking. Mace pulled back slightly. For the first time, Padmé saw the mark of despair cross the Jedi Master's face. It remained there while other emotions swept over his features, including shock, fear, and then… could it be … resignation?

"In my heart, I knew that this was coming," he said softly. "But my irrational side refused to accept the possibility. Obi-Wan Kenobi was one of the greatest Jedi I have ever known, rooted so firmly in the light that he seemed to be its embodiment. Never would I have accepted that something could destroy his essence as a Jedi." He slowly slid back into seat, his gaze shifting to the sky.

"But yet again," he said slowly, "I have underestimated the darkness."

Sheltay slid down next to him, apparently stricken by the news. Bail was looking at Padmé in complete disbelief. "Padmé, how? How could Obi-Wan join the _Sith_?"

"I don't know, Bail," Padmé said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "I don't know."

Sabé looked over at Master Windu, her expression suddenly angry. "He claims that the Jedi Council betrayed him …"

Padmé cut her off. "Sabé, not now. We can't afford to waste time bickering. Anakin and Obi-Wan are fighting each other in the Jedi Temple, right now. If they continue, they could kill each other! We have to get there and stop them …"

"Get to the Jedi Temple?" Bail exclaimed. "Padmé, there are at least a thousand clones there! We'll _never_ be able to reach them in time!"

Padmé's deep brown eyes filled with such a determined passion that Bail silenced his own objections. "We have to try, Bail. I'm not letting Anakin die, and I'm not letting Vader … Obi-Wan … take him to Sidious. There has to be a way to reason with him."

Bail muttered something under his breath about it being ludicrous to _reason_ with a Sith Lord about anything, but his eyes softened and he fired up the engines, swinging the speeder around to face their destination. He keyed the comm. "Captain Antilles, wait for us in orbit. We have some unfinished business to handle."

Mace pulled his gaze from the Coruscant skyline and fixed Padmé with an intense stare. "Anakin will be alright, Padmé. He is skilled, and the Force will protect him."

Sabé spoke up. "Padmé, Obi-Wan wouldn't really hurt Anakin, would he? After all, he promised you he wouldn't."

Padmé bit her lip. Yes, he had promised. Whatever had happened to him, it was clear that Obi-Wan still cared for Anakin. He wouldn't intentionally wound him, maim him, kill him … especially not when he had sworn to honor Padmé's plea. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a man of honor, he would never dream of breaking his word, even when ordered to do so. She would have trusted him with her life.

But Darth Vader … how good was the word of a Sith Lord?

Sheltay spoke up. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Padmé looked straight towards the distant horizon, where the Jedi Temple burned like a dying coal. She could only hope that they were not too late.

* * *

So it wasn't all duel. The Padme scene was neccesary to set up what will occur in the next chapter. Stay tuned.


	33. A Sith Lord Unmasked

**It's here. This the the dramatic end of the first duel between Anakin and the new Darth Vader. Most of you have been waiting with baited breath to see what happens when Vader is unmasked, and you will get Anakin's reaction. The implications will be considerable, affected much of the later events in the story.**

**This chapter concludes what is in esscence the first phase, or half, of the story. The next phase will be shorter in terms of number of chapters, but will actuallycover a great stretch of time, taking this story all the way to its conclusion. I hope that youall will continue to read it and enjoy it.**

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**Chapter 33**

A sphere of eerie blue light cast its dancing light on the dark walls. It proceeded slowly, yet determinedly, along the black, nearly silent corridor leading from one arena to the next. One minute, a quiet forsaken spot in the hall was cast into brilliant relief as it entered the sphere. Cool smooth stone absorbed the blinding glow, even as it was punctuated by the shadows cast from the heart of the sphere, where conflict raged. Then the sphere moved on, and the silent spot was forsaken once more, sliding back into shadowy nothingness. How long it would remain was unknown. Time only had meaning in the sphere.

Surrounded by the corona of their weapon's power, Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader continued their relentless duel. Their faces were locked on the spectral countenances of the other, while they searched each other's eyes for some trace of intent, of weakness, of fear. Neither could penetrate the other's mask. Anakin's face was set and resolute, defined only by the burning pall of determined hate that darkened his soul. Vader was completely unreadable. Other than the ice-blue chips of his eyes that shone intently with hidden purpose, the Dark Lord's face was like a deep, black pool of water, which swallowed up any traces of the thoughts that drowned in its depths.

Though their faces did not change, their limbs were a blur. Saber clashed on saber with mechanical precision and incalculable strength, creating brilliant distortions of energy that diffused into the surrounding air. Each strike was a calculated balance of intensity and positioning, which led seamlessly into the next.

Anakin started a new sequence, coming at his opponent with a series of midrange stabs. Vader took the instantaneous defensive stance, and picked off the seeking thrusts one by one. Then he switched form and swept his blade towards Anakin's torso in a broad arc.

Anakin parried the dark man's strike, his eyes glowing with an intense hatred. The dark man laughed mockingly at Anakin's expression and lunged forward with blade extended. The searing blade of energy slipped past Anakin's guard and grazed his arm. Anakin grimaced in pain as the hot beam burned his flesh.

The Dark Lord, sensing that he had drawn blood, pressed his advantage. Anakin refused to divert the energy coursing through his veins to heal the wound. He let its pain fill him, sending a sparking wave of fire from his arm to deep inside his core. The fire he had lit in his heart pulsed excitedly, then soared to a higher level. The heat rose behind Anakin's eyes, altering their hue.

Vader did not let Anakin's power daunt him. Holding onto the advantage he had gained, he used his offensive prowess to drive the Chosen One further back down the hall. The smooth gush of running water became amplified as they neared the end of their passage. Suddenly, they emerged from the dark corridor and found themselves in an enormous hall with ornately carved arches and pillars soaring towards the ceiling. Light from the sky shone down on them for the first time since leaving the Main Hall, banishing the sphere that had enclosed them during their journey. The two combatants each noted the marked change of scenery, but did not dwell on it for a split second longer than calculating how it could be used to their advantage.

Yet even as their duel continued unabated, the tarnished majesty of the room exerted an invisible pull on both Anakin and Vader. The room they had entered was one of the most famous and awe-inspiring in the Jedi Temple. A circular dome at the heart of the Temple, its diameter stretched several hundred meters across. Wide glass panels in the ceiling cast a serene illumination on the room's trademark: over one thousand ornate fountains and reflecting pools, each filled with crystal clear water that infused the entire room with their eternal tranquility. The fountains themselves were intricately and lovingly carved, representing a life's achievement for any sculptor. The likenesses of all kinds of mythological creatures, departed heroes, and mysterious shapes were visible in their contours. High walkways transversed the room, allowing one to examine every angle of the magnificent chamber. A series of mirrors spaced around the entire circumference of the wall reflected the water's glow, given one the scene that the entire room was submerged in the element. Architects from thousands of worlds had tried and failed to recreate the room's inexpressible mixture of beauty and legend. None had come close to succeeding. Knowing this, the Jedi had shown their treasure every reverence, forbidding raised voices, heated debates, or angry conflicts inside the hall. It was to be used solely as a place of meditation, of reflection, and of submersion.

Such reverence had been utterly shattered.

Carbon scoring from the recent battle that had taken place in the hall marred the smooth floor and intricate carvings, erasing priceless images. Several of the mirrored walls had been shattered by wayward fire, scattering twisted pieces of glass across the floor. Dozens of the fountains in their field of vision alone had been blown apart, or severely weakened by supercharged beams of energy. But the aesthetical damages were insignificant compared to the pallor of death that had gripped the room. Scattered everywhere across the immediate area of the room were dozens and dozens of bodies. Both clone and Jedi were visible, slumped against the edges of the reflective pools, or sprawled in the middle of the floor, frozen in agonized convulsions. Still others had fallen into the reflective pools, staining the once-clear water with red currents of blood. It was, if anything, a more tragic scene than the entrance hall, or even the Archives. But neither contestant could afford to be repulsed, or even distracted for the slightest instant. In their furious dance, the slightest slip could prove fatal.

Vader advanced on Anakin, his blade held at head height as he jabbed incessantly at the Chosen One's defenses. Anakin picked off the stabs one by one, well aware that Vader was merely probing his defenses. No doubt the Sith Lord had already discerned some advantage he could coax from this change of scenery, and biding his time until he decided how to force Anakin into his trap.

A bitter sneer rose to Anakin's lips. _Not going to happen, Vader._

Anakin tensed his leg muscles, then exploded forward, breaking through Vader's shield. He battered the Sith Lord's defenses mercilessly, renewed energy coursing through his veins. Vader willingly shifted back to Form III, but refused to be driven backward. Rather than let Anakin launch a furious offensive that would carry them all the way back to the Archives, Vader began to sidestep, constantly dodging out of Anakin's attack path. The Jedi witnessed his strategy, and went with the movements rather than trying to fight them. The two began to travel in looping circles, moving with a random, yet purposeful pattern through the maze of fountains, ignoring the carnage around them. Their duel took them through a tightly congested pathway, where at least eight bodies lay in a still pool of blood. The two gladiators slid through heedlessly, neither registering the red stains that marred their boots, or the trails of bloody footprints they left behind, laying a ghastly mosaic on top of the intricate patterns on the floor.

Anakin's strikes were ruthless; he went repeatedly for Vader's vital areas, seeking the killing blow. At every turn he was frustrated, for while Vader was willing to concede the lesser strikes, he always met Anakin's attempts to end the conflict with a riposte so strong that the Jedi was nearly thrown off balance. One such counter caused Anakin to stumble and his guard to slip. Vader moved in intently. Anakin ripped his blade back up with a scything sweep at the Dark Lord's neck. Undaunted, Vader pulled back and in a fraction of a second, forced Anakin's weapon away.

They were entering a clearer area now, one that had escaped the worst of the battle. With greater freedom of movement, Anakin and Vader began to increase the complexity of their attacks. Strikes came in from every conceivable angle, the two warriors moving so fast that an observer would not have been able to distinguish between them. Their blinding auras were magnified by the reflective surfaces of the room; fiery nebulas of red, blue, and violet rose high above the duelists and cast their unearthly spectra to the heavens. The darkness of the room fled to the edges, enclosing everything in an eerie, malicious barrier through which no light could escape.

Anakin continued to slash high and low, trying to pull Vader's guard into a disadvantageous position. Vader met all the attacks in perfect balance and continued to guide their path as they traveled circuitously towards the center of the room. Before long, they found themselves at the base of a high walkway that arced over the largest and deepest pool in the room. Vader stepped backward onto it, gaining the advantage of the high ground. With a determined rush, Anakin lunged forward and boarded the walkway as well. The two dueled up the long gradual incline, until it leveled out and they emerged onto a long, narrow catwalk five meters above the center of the pool.

Now stuck in a relatively linear dimension, Vader ceased allowing Anakin to drive him backwards. He grounded his feet firmly and aggressively smashed at the Jedi's guard, bringing his advance to a halt. Their strikes began to increase in force as the emphasis switched to power. Each contestant gritted their teeth as they absorbed an increased battering on their arms. They were so close together that both of their blades were in danger of hitting their wielder as well as their opponent, but masterful skill from a lifetime of experience allowed them to keep the deadly weapons under control.

But with proximity close, and maneuverability limited, there were openings for other kinds of attacks. When Anakin started to gain a momentary advantage, Vader brought his foot up for an arching sidekick that nailed Anakin in the side and smashed his torso against the unforgiving metal railing.

Anakin grimaced and doubled over as the breath was forced from his lungs. Vader moved in without hesitation to follow up his attack with a crippling blow. But Anakin brought himself back up, pulled back his fist, and smashed the Dark Lord across the face.

Vader's head snapped backwards and stars exploded in his field of vision, but he refused to fall. He brought his reeling skull forward to head butt the Jedi, then drove his knee into Anakin's chest. Anakin stumbled, and Vader kicked out, sending the Chosen One sprawling across the walkway.

Anakin's lightsaber fell from his grasp and nearly went over the edge. His fingers seized it just before it rolled down into the water. As blood streamed unheeded from a cut under his eye, he saw Vader advance deliberately towards him. The Dark Lord had no intention of letting his opponent get back up.

Blood from Anakin's facial laceration pooled on the walkway, and Anakin saw himself reflected on its surface. His eyes shone red, then hardened, flashing venomously. With Vader closing fast, the Jedi gathered his power and launched himself like a missile at the Sith Lord.

Vader was thrown back as Anakin crashed towards him, blade first. The Jedi's onslaught was too quick for him to stabilize himself, and Anakin shoved him back, batting away his enemy's guard. When Vader' back was half a meter from the rail, Anakin spun and drove his foot with brutal force into Vader's bloodied chest plate.

Amazingly, despite taking a huge blow to his gravely injured chest, Vader did not collapse. The rage of the Dark Side smothered the pain. But all the power in the galaxy could not change the fact that Vader's back was dangerously close to the railing. The strength of Anakin's kick caused him to collide with the railing. For a split second, the Dark Lord tottered unsteadily, suspended between two forces, and then gravity prevailed. Vader toppled backwards over the railing, headfirst into the reflecting pool. There was a splash as his body hit the still surface of the water several meters below.

Anakin collapsed against the railing, taking a short interval to catch his breath. He did not allow himself more than a few seconds; any longer and the adrenaline would start to leave his system. He would need the energy, for Anakin knew the fight was not over yet. If Vader was strong enough to survive being struck with a lightsaber, thrown thirty meters across a room, and nailed in the chest with a half-ton statue, then a short fall certainly wasn't going to finish him.

Anakin peered cautiously over the rail. The ripples on the surface of the water where Vader had vanished were already beginning to disperse. Of the Sith himself, there was no sign. The only distinctive things that Anakin could see were dark shapes which appeared to be rocks. Nothing alive.

The Chosen One hesitated. If he had learned one thing from the confrontation so far, it was that Vader was strong, incredibly so. The Sith was at least as powerful as Palpatine, probably more powerful. That he had managed to single-handedly slay half the Jedi in the Temple was proof of that. Master Yoda and Mace, if they were still alive, needed to know about this threat. He could leave now, report his findings, and plan for his next confrontation with this new malice.

But something inside him held him back. A dark, powerful stirring unlike anything he had ever felt urged him to stay. He needed to end this threat now. He needed to be the one who drove his lightsaber into the demon's heart. He needed to be there to watch Obi-Wan's murderer die, to watch his wife's future killer die. He needed to be there when the mask fell away from that hidden face, to feel the savage rush of triumph as his enemy gasped his last breath. Anakin closed his eyes. Master Windu's warnings seemed weak and far away. Vader was _here_, in this room, at his mercy …

The primal stirring faded and Anakin opened his eyes. He would finish this battle now. He would carry out his duty like a Jedi, coldly and dispassionately. Taking a deep breath, he vaulted over the rail and plummeted into the pool.

The icy shock of cold water seized his heart as it engulfed his body. Anakin stood up and scanned the scene. The water was only waist deep where he had landed, trailing off to greater depths at the far end. Anakin started forward, moving slowly through the water, eyes alert for any disturbance.

Something brushed against his hip. Anakin spun around, deactivated lightsaber raised. His stomach clenched in revulsion. What he had taken to be dark rocks in the water were bodies.

Anakin had seen far too many dead Jedi to be stricken by the sight, but this scene was inherently sick. The corpse's face was sickly pale and placidly still. It floated just on the surface, bloated with fluid and grossly misshapen. It was barely recognizable as human. Anakin shoved the disgusting thing away from him, and watched it float silently away. Other bodies were visible now, some clone, some Jedi. A few were locked in death embraces, where Jedi and soldier had fallen from the catwalks locked in combat, only to meet their fate in the water below. The rest of the dead had likely been killed on the walkway, then shoved indiscriminately into the water by the victorious clone troopers to clear a path for marching. Now they hovered silently on the black surface, slowly taking up water until they grew so heavy that they would sink to the bottom of the peaceful water, to remain undiscovered for weeks, or months.

What had once been the greatest and most revered of the fountains, Anakin realized, was now no more than a resting place for the slain, a black swamp of death. And somewhere, deep in the murky depths, lurked their killer.

Forcing himself not to look down, Anakin continued to move towards the deep end. The water level had risen; it was up to his chest now. The sodden weight of his clothes hampered him, making him feel sluggish. The cold was beginning to penetrate his muscles, and the Jedi had to draw on the Force to keep himself warm. There was still no sign of Vader.

Another body brushed past Anakin as he moved to even deeper water. If he went any further, he would have to swim. Anakin stopped and rotated three-hundred and sixty degrees, taking in everything. There were no ripples on the surface of the pool save the one he had left in his own wake. Anakin clenched his teeth in disgust.

Where was the coward? What was he doing? Sith or not, it had to be impossible for any human to hold his breath this long, especially one with a partially crushed ribcage. Could it be that Vader had been knocked unconscious by his fall? Could he have drowned? No, it was impossible. Anakin's danger sense was throbbing unmercifully. Vader was alive, but was keeping hidden. And he was stalking Anakin.

A faint ripple broke across Anakin's field of vision. He spun towards it, lightsaber ignited, and the disturbance obscured the source. The eerie blue light from his blade cast its sheen on the dark water, illuminating the surface, but keeping the depths unfathomed. Anakin raised his weapon.

"_WHERE ARE YOU!_" he roared in challenge.

His call echoed off the high ceilings of the room, but went unanswered.

Anakin deactivated his blade. He was not going to play this game. If Vader wanted to skulk like a coward in this grim lake for hours, he could do it alone. This fight was no longer honorable.

The Jedi turned around and began to slough his way back to shallower water. Rage and disappointment gripped his heart. He had been so close …

_So close to what?_ A voice in his head asked him. _Killing your enemy in cold blood?_

Maybe it was better this way …

A warning screamed through the Force.

Anakin saw something rushing towards him out of the corner of his eye. He spun around … just in time to take a deep breath before a wave of water five meters high smashed into him.

The force of the wave drove Anakin straight to the bottom of the pool. He was pinned to the hard stone bottom by the suffocating fluid, which constricted his lungs, trying to force its way in. His insides began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Furiously, he planted his feet on the bottom of the pool and shoved himself up to the surface. He broke the turbulent plane and, spitting out water, spun around towards the source of the disturbance.

And out of a raging whirlpool, from the depths of the water, erupted the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Anakin's breath caught in his throat. The sight was terrifying to behold. The crackling power around Vader had disappeared, replaced by an oppressing shadow. The Sith was completely shrouded in darkness, except for his eyes, where two hellish fiery red orbs were locked right on Anakin Skywalker. Vader crashed back into the water, lightsaber in hand, and scythed towards him at an impossible speed. Another wave of water rose in his wake and crashed towards Anakin.

This time, the Chosen One was ready. He threw up a Force barrier, against which the wave smashed harmlessly and dissipated. Then, he focused his power into a jet stream that shot towards Vader's face. If it hit, the force would be enough to snap his opponent's neck.

Vader put out a hand, and a ball of fire sprang from his fingertips to intercept the stream. The two collided, and the searing heat instantly vaporized the water. Then Vader was on him.

The two ignited their weapons and began to duel once more. Both weighted down with waterlogged robes, maneuvering was next to impossible. Instead, their contest became one of brute force, with powerful attacks designed to crush the other's guard. Light flashed off the surface of the water and was reflected around the room with every stroke.

After a minute, it became clear that neither would gain the upper hand while they were so restricted. With the edge of the pool in sight, Anakin tensed his muscles, then launched himself into the air, a high arcing leap that carried him out and onto dry land. Vader followed him.

Their combat immediately resumed. Though still weighted down with water, both Anakin and Vader now had much more liberty to execute spins and evasive maneuvers that were central to their fighting styles. They took full advantage of them, leaping into the air and launching whirlwind attacks as fast as the eye could follow. They barely registered the path they were taking, which was leading them through the maze of obstacles, out of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. A few seconds later, they passed under the arching doorway leading into an expansive hallway, one which lead back towards the main hall, or towards the turbolifts that led to the Temple's upper levels. The path of their duel steered Anakin and Vader towards the latter.

His sodden hood kept obscuring his vision, but Vader refused to allow it to inconvenience him. Anakin shone so brightly in the Force that he could 'see' him even with his eyes closed. The young man's aura had visibly darkened now, as anger continued to wear down his Jedi defenses. Vader was more cautious now; he knew he could not shatter those defenses quickly, or he risked annihilation. Slowly but surely, he was making progress at undermining his former apprentice's convictions. It was time to move their duel to its last phase.

Vader took the lead, pushing Anakin back along the hall. The young Jedi did not really resist this direction, but he vehemently fought back whenever Vader tried to force him into a side room or restricting corridor. Several times, his blade got through Vader's guard to burn his armor or his skin. Vader, likewise, was able to break through Anakin's guard once or twice, but not as often. He was working towards a different purpose.

They covered several hundred meters of ground as they left the Room of a Thousand Fountains far behind. The side doors to situation rooms and meditation chambers disappeared, leaving only smooth walls leading right towards the end of the hall, where a line of turbolifts stood.

The turbolifts were at the rear of the Temple. Being more isolated, they were not used as often as the regular service elevators, but the trip was worthwhile. After a few floors, the turbolift walls were made of transparisteel, allowing a spectacular view of Coruscant. They were also the only pathways that led directly to the roof.

Jedi and Sith were soon standing before them. With nowhere left to go on this level, Anakin chose to lunge at Vader, swinging his blade at the Dark Lord's neck. Vader ducked under the blow, and jabbed straight out. Anakin leapt back, clearing some space. With a pointed wave of his hand, Vader opened the door of the central turbolift and leapt inside. He let the door slide shut, then hit the activation button. The car began to ascend, accelerating rapidly. Anakin did not try to halt its progress. He ran into the car directly adjacent to Vader's, then hit the button and began to rise after his opponent.

Vader looked down through the clear floor of his turbolift and saw Anakin several stories below him, coming fast. Still, he was too far behind to catch him, at least until the reached the highest level, where Vader would be waiting. Unless …

The Dark Lord frowned as Anakin's car began to move even faster than before, rocketing up the shaft at an amazing speed. Vader sensed the current of the Force shift. Anakin was using his power to speed himself up, and make up the distance. The confrontation would continue sooner than he had thought.

Anakin drew level with him. Vader saw fiery determination streaming from Anakin's blue eyes, while the roiling power within him threatened to break loose. They were separated only by two thin layers of glass.

Jedi and Sith simultaneously drove their weapons into the sides of their cars, tearing away the final barrier. Wind ripped at them as they faced off, thirty stories high and rising. Behind them, Coruscant's night had darkened, as clouds gathered overhead. A roll of thunder sounded ominously. Vader spoke.

"You have fought well, my friend," he called. "You truly are worthy of inheriting the power of the Sith."

Anakin's lip curled. "Save your breath, Vader. You won't have it for much longer."

Vader laughed. "Good. Be defiant. It builds your anger, focuses your power. Now use it!"

"I will not. I will never join the Sith."

"Destiny has not revealed its intent to you, Anakin, but it has to me. Your actions, your desires … you have already adopted our mindset."

"My only mindset now," Anakin snarled, "Is to kill the man who killed my Master."

Vader gritted his teeth in savage disgust. "You have a responsibility to the living, Anakin. Let go of your loyalty to the dead."

"Not yet."

Vader shook his head. "Then you would sacrifice your wife for Kenobi's honor?"

Anakin said nothing. Instead, pain and hate hardened themselves into a mask on his face. He stared hard at his opponent. "This is the end for you, Vader."

Vader dropped into a defensive stance. Anakin couldn't possibly be considering …

Anakin tensed his legs, fighting the tremendous acceleration. Then he sprinted across his platform and launched himself into the air. He landed firmly on Vader's elevator.

The Sith Lord ignited his weapon and met Anakin's attack. In such a confined space, maneuvering was impossible. Every cut and stab needed to be carefully placed, or any chance of recovery on the counterattack was ruined. Rain began to fall outside their isolated glass bubble, while another roll of thunder drowned out the clashing of their blades. Their ascent only lasted a few more seconds, but it seemed much longer.

With an angry jolt, their turbolift ground to a halt. Vader forced the door open and leapt into the open air. Anakin followed him. They were now on the roof of the Jedi Temple, a hundred stories up, with nowhere to run. The battle would be decided here. Anakin moved forward to engage Vader as a bolt of lightning lanced from the sky and struck the last spire of the Jedi Council chamber far above.

* * *

The entire sky lit up with a flash of lightning, which reflected off of the surfaces of a thousand buildings. As the thunder sounded a second later, the clouds above opened and it began to rain. Huddled in the open-topped speeder with no shelter of any kind, the five companions drew hoods and cloaks over their faces to shield them from the driving water. Sabé's eyes narrowed as she looked up at the sky. "Can anyone remember the last time it rained on Coruscant?"

Bail shrugged. "Years ago, but it was on a much smaller scale. The polar ice caps are the only part of this planet that gets any frequent natural precipitation."

Sabé shivered and withdrew further into her cloak. "Normally I love the rain, but this … this isn't normal."

Sheltay shook her head. "Nothing about this night has been normal."

There was a general murmur of ascent.

Padmé, however, had more urgent worries than the disagreeable weather. She leaned forward anxiously in her seat. "How close are we?"

Bail adjusted the speeder's navigation system. "Just a few kilometers out. We'll be docking at the Temple in a little over eight minutes."

Mace consulted the on-board map, looking grim. "The clones have set up a perimeter. Two kilometer radius, evenly spaced units."

Padmé bit her lip anxiously. "Is there anyway through?"

Bail thought hard. "Unlikely. The clones have units on the air and the ground, and no doubt are taking orders directly from the Chancellor himself. We could try to find a path through the undercity, but that would take considerable time. I think we're just going to have to …"

The harsh voice of Jango Fett crackled over their speaker. "Unidentified craft, this is Captain Grave of the 501st Legion. You are about to enter a restricted military zone. Turn back immediately."

Bail turned to his passengers. "What do we do?"

"Can we ignore them?" Sabé asked. "Make a run through the blockade?"

Mace extended his hand towards a dark object, approaching fast. "I doubt that would succeed. They're flanking us."

Sure enough, Padmé was able to discern a Republic Gunship swooping in on their right side, settling into position a hundred meters away. Another Gunship rose up on their left. Padmé didn't need any explanation to know that the patrol craft had their full payload of heat-seeking missiles aimed directly at their weaponless speeder.

Grave spoke again. "Unidentified craft, this is your final warning. Respond and alter your vector _now_."

Bail hesitated for half a second, then keyed the comm. "Uh …Captain, we are a special group of inspectors commissioned to examine the remains of the Jedi Temple. We have been ordered to recover crucial information from the Archives. Let us pass."

He looked over at Padmé and shrugged. Padmé forced a smile. It was hardly the excuse she would have given for trespassing under such circumstances, but it was too late to go back now.

After a brief silence, Grave said "We have received no conformation of such a visit."

"It's … uh … classified," Bail said. "We are executive agents. We were sent here under direct orders from the Supreme Chancellor."

It would not have been humanly possible for the Captain to sound less convinced. "Really? What's your identification code?"

Bail winced. They were trapped. _We're going to have to run for it_, he mouthed to Padmé.

"If you do not transmit your identification code in ten seconds, you will be destroyed."

Mace suddenly leaned over the divider, keyed the comm., and spoke calmly. "You don't need our identification code."

There was a pause, then Grave responded, "We don't need your identification code."

"This is a classified assignment. It is to be kept off record."

"This is a classified assignment. It is to be kept off record."

Mace smiled. "Excellent, Captain. You have carried out your duty well. I shall commend you to the Chancellor."

Grave sounded dazed. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Let us through now."

Grave's voice became assertive once again. "Troops, pull back!"

The two gunships flanking them peeled off, leaving their route to the Temple unobstructed. Mace slid back into his seat. "Proceed, Senator."

Sheltay looked at Mace admiringly. "How did you do that?"

Mace raised an eyebrow. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded. It can be very useful in avoiding unnecessary bloodshed. It's not a power that the Jedi allow themselves to indulge in liberally, but in this case …"

"In this case it was more than warranted," Padmé finished for him.

The speeder raced towards the Jedi Temple.

* * *

Anakin slashed viciously at Vader. His blade hissed as rain spattered on it and vaporized. Vader evaded his attack, then countered with a sweeping cut at Anakin's knees. Anakin jumped completely over the strike, then sprang immediately into the air again upon landing. He passed over Vader's head, stabbing down. Vader blocked the stab, then spun around to engage Anakin as the Jedi touched down again.

Another flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating both combatants. Water coursed down Anakin's body, sliding off in sheets. His hair was getting in the way of his vision; he frequently had to shake his head to see his opponent. Vader, being covered by his hood, had no such problem, but the twice-drenched cape was obviously weighing him down.

They battled across the Temple's uneven roof, consciously aware that every step on the rain-slicked surface was treacherous. They were still relatively close to the edge and if they were not careful, one wrong step could cause them to plummet over it.

Desiring more maneuvering room, Vader launched himself into the air, away from Anakin. He landed on raised ridge several meters away, near a large satellite dish. Anakin spun around and threw his lightsaber. Vader dodged, and Anakin's blade sliced through the dish's support, causing it to crash to the roof and break into jagged pieces. The weapon flew back to Anakin's hand, and he pursued the Sith.

The area Vader had arrived at was closer to the center of the roof, and therefore more secure, but cables and covered pipes were prominent, creating deep channels between them where the water followed the path of least resistance. Vader attacked Anakin as soon as he reached the matrix. They stood in the rushing stream and dueled, oblivious to the thunder that rolled overhead.

Vader jabbed at Anakin's torso, missing by millimeters. Anakin slashed down, trying to pin his enemy's blade, but Vader retracted his missed thrust and reverted to a slicing attack. Anakin caught the blade on his before it struck his chest, then shoved it away. Vader leapt to higher ground. Anakin followed him.

The Jedi got in one good attack before Vader launched brutal onslaught that nearly drove Anakin back into the cables. The Jedi grimaced as he bore the punishing assault, his bones rattling with every blow they took. But he could see an opening, which Vader had either failed to notice or was too consumed by the rage of battle to care about. The Sith slashed at Anakin's chest again, and when the Jedi parried it, he launched a full out swing at his opponent's head.

Anakin seized the moment. He ducked under the swing, then straightened, spun around, and kicked Vader brutally in the chest.

The Dark Lord flew backwards several meters, landing hard on his back in the middle of a rushing stream of water. His already-sodden hood fell down over his eyes, obscuring his vision. Vader could sense Anakin bearing down on him, as well as the infernal cloak that was binding him. In a moment of purely impulsive rage, he seized the cloak by its clasp and ripped it off, flinging it far out of his way. Then, as a flash of lightning split the sky, he leapt up to his feet, eyes blazing, ready to meet the next attack.

There was no attack forthcoming.

Anakin was standing just two meters away, lightsaber raised in position for a killing blow. But he had frozen. His eyes were locked on Vader's suddenly exposed face, an expression of utter shock and disbelief on his own countenance.

"Obi-Wan?" he gasped.

The lightsaber slowly fell to his side as Anakin lowered his arms. Standing in the rain, he seemed unconscious of anything but the vision of his old friend and Master, a short distance away, as real as he was.

Obi-Wan lowered his own weapon and smiled. "Anakin."

A thousand different emotions swirled about Anakin like a hurricane. He could not settle on any one of them for more than a fraction of a second. Obi-Wan was alive. He was standing here with him now, as full of the living Force as he had been the day they had parted, several months ago. His brother had survived, after he, Anakin, had given him up for dead …

But how? How could he have been fighting Obi-Wan without realizing it? Why was he fighting Obi-Wan at all? Obi-Wan Kenobi was the greatest Jedi of the Order, its pinnacle of light. He couldn't have joined the Sith! No, he was hallucinating, this was a trick …

"Is it … is it really you?" he asked haltingly, reaching out to probe his former opponent's Force signature. It was unmistakable: his old master. How could he not have seen it?

Vader …Obi-Wan … continued to smile. "Yes, Anakin. It is me."

Joy surged through Anakin's heart, healing wounds that had plagued him ever since the day his friend had vanished. But the joy was ruthlessly arrested in his mind. His danger sense was pounding unmercifully. Something was wrong.

"H… How …?" he stammered.

Obi-Wan's smile disappeared. "Anakin," he said seriously, almost condescendingly. "How many times have I warned you …?"

Anakin's danger sense screamed at him. He tried to raise his weapon again, but it was too late.

Vader struck at the speed of light. His blue blade hissed through the air and sliced through Anakin's mechanical right arm at the elbow. The shock of the sensors in his arm transmitted itself to his nerves, which exploded with pain. Anakin fell to his knees in shock, his lightsaber clattering from the metal fingers of his severed arm to the rain-slicked panels of the roof. Vader stood over him, lightsaber at his throat, a truly regretful expression on his face.

"How many times have I warned you to never, ever let your guard down?"

* * *

The Temple loomed large in front of them, but to Padmé it did not seem to be approaching nearly fast enough. She was conscious of how every muscle in her body was tense, how her heart was pounding relentlessly. She was more than worried. She was terrified.

She knew better than anyone how strong Anakin was in the Force. But she also knew his limits. The sheer power that had exuded from Vader during their encounter had given her no sense of weakness. Underneath all the trappings, Vader might still be Obi-Wan, but he had done his best to transform himself into a ruthless killer. He was capable of anything.

Padmé closed her eyes, trying to fight back the wave of tears that came with her despair. She did not know what she would do if Anakin died. He was her Knight, her protector, her strength. But he was also her husband, her one love. And most importantly of all, he was the father of her child. Their family could not be torn apart before it had even truly begun. She would do anything to prevent it.

"Padmé, are you alright?"

Padmé opened her eyes. "Yes, Sabé, I'm fine."

They were still a good distance from the Temple. Padmé wanted to yell at Bail to go faster, but she knew that he was only trying to avoid drawing further suspicion onto them. Patrol craft were everywhere.

She wiped a hand across her rain-soaked face so clear her vision. The fires of the Temple had been extinguished by the downpour, leaving it only as a dark, ominous silhouette dominating Coruscant's horizon. No light, no life …

Wait … on the Temple roof she could she two dots of bright blue light, unsullied even in the rain. The dots were moving, occasionally separating and then converging again with renewed intensity. Padmé knew instinctively what they were. _Lightsabers_.

She pointed at the lights. "Bail, look at the roof!"

Bail saw where she was pointing. "That has to be them. Let's go."

He angled the speeder down towards the roof. Padmé kept her eyes fixed on the two bright points of light, her husband and his best friend, as they fought, willing Anakin to persevere.

And then suddenly, one of the lights was extinguished.

An iron fist clamped down on Padmé's throbbing heart. No, it couldn't be … they had arrived too late.

"Bail, go faster!"

Bail tried to coax more speed from the engine. "Padmé, this is as fast as this thing will go!"

He aimed the speeder at the nearest clear patch he could see, several hundred meters away, where the speeder could land without crashing. Clenching her blaster tightly, Padmé kept her eyes fixed with terrified apprehension at the place where the light had vanished.

* * *

Anakin cradled the stump of his arm as he stared up at Vader. "Why, Obi-Wan? Why?"

Vader smiled sadly. "Forgive me, Anakin. I did not want to seriously injure you, but you gave me no choice. I could sense your intentions, perhaps even before you realized them. You were going to resume our duel, which very likely would have resulted in my death, or yours. After I foolishly revealed myself, I had to make sure that you would not allow yourself to get carried away before I could talk to you."

Anakin shook his head. "I wasn't talk about my arm, Obi-Wan. I was talking about you. Why would you join the Sith?"

Vader's sympathetic smile vanished and his blade moved a fraction closer to Anakin's neck. "Anakin, I allowed you a short grace period, but if you address me by that despicable name again, you will regret it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You see, Anakin, I was not lying in the Jedi Archives when I told you that Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead. When he was betrayed by his fellow Jedi into the hands of Grievous, he was stripped of his power. Lord Sidious offered him a chance to regain it; indeed, to become stronger than before. It was then that I began to awaken to the truth I should have seen from the beginning. I embraced it, reveled in it, redefined myself completely, and emerged with limitless power at my command. Obi-Wan as he was could not adjust. His moral values, his pragmatic wisdom, his Jedi-tempered discipline … they were too inflexible. They broke apart, and he slipped away. What was left … was me." Vader looked intently at Anakin's face. "So what I told you was true … from a certain point of view, of course."

"A … a certain point of view?" Anakin heard his voice crack. Trails of water were running down his face that had nothing to do with the rain. "Does this certain point of view provide another way to look at the murder of several hundred Jedi?"

Vader's blue eyes turned cold as ice. "They were guilty. All of them. Pablo-Jill. Cin Drallig. Shaak Ti. Ki-Adi Mundi. Mace Windu. Yoda. The entire council was in league with Grievous and the Separatists. I saw the proof. Treason on such a scale is punishable only by death."

"What about the others?"

Something flickered across Vader's face. It could have been pain, uncertainty, or even guilt. "The stain of their influence could not be removed. Everyone was tainted. Everyone except you."

Anakin grimaced as a fresh wave of pain shot up his arm. "So that's why I'm still alive? Sidious still wants me as his apprentice even after I nearly eviscerated him in his office?"

"The Dark Lord does desire you as his apprentice, Anakin," Vader told him. "He wants us both to stand at his side. But that is not why I am here. I want to show you the path that saved me."

"The path to the Dark Side? The path to evil and death?"

The Dark Side is not evil, Anakin, it is simply more natural. It corrupts because some who try to use it are not prepared for it. You must have passed a great trial to wield the true power of the Force. I have done so, and you have as well. You know how to reach your true potential."

_The savage rush of battle. Tusken Raiders falling beneath effortless swings of his blade. Dooku's face as he was beheaded. Pablo-Jill gasping feebly as his neck was crushed. His own eyes, burning with yellow hatred …_

Each of those moments had lasted an eternity in his mind, filling him with immeasurable strength. He had rejoiced as hatred had filled him, laughed in his heart as blood poured over his hands …

No, it was wrong …such dark urges were not power. Master Windu had warned him about skirting the edge. The Dark Side could not save, it could only destroy.

But Obi-Wan claimed that the Jedi Council had betrayed the Republic. Sith or not, this man was still his master. He had never lied to him. Anakin tried to probe Vader's thoughts for deception. He detected none. Vader was telling the truth, or at least what he believed was the truth. And he wouldn't have put it past Pablo-Jill to have cut a deal with the enemy. Anakin felt himself wavering, slipping past rationality …

Vader spoke again. "You are the Chosen One, Anakin. You are destined to bring balance to the Force, by erasing out the corruption of the Jedi. Join me. We were unstoppable together as Jedi. Think of what we could do as Sith! We could overthrow Palpatine. We could stabilize the galaxy. A New Order of peace and illumination shall dawn, with us at the forefront! Every injustice, every atrocity that this galaxy has ever known shall be but a distant memory. Join me, and we shall control the balance of the Force as brothers for an age!"

He lowered his lightsaber and extended his left hand. Anakin looked hard at the black, rain-covered glove. Obi-Wan's vision had seized his mind; the vision of the galaxy he had always felt should exist. He could create it; shape it into how he wanted it to be. And he would do it with Obi-Wan, his beloved mentor and best friend. The full power of the Force would be attainable for both of them …

He felt his left hand begin to rise towards Vader's, preparing to grasp it. Slowly, they drew nearer, as Anakin's doubts were dismissed one by one. None could sway him. Qui-Gon, the Republic, the Jedi Order, Yoda, Mace, Padmé …

Padmé …

Anakin's arm dropped slowly to his side. He bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I can't do it."

Vader looked baffled. "Why not, Anakin?"

"Because of Padmé," Anakin said quietly. "She'll be in danger if I join you."

"Anakin, I wouldn't hurt Padmé …"

"I've had a vision," Anakin told him, "About a dark man standing over Padmé, lightsaber raised, ready to kill her. I didn't know who it was, but I swore I wouldn't let it happen. Even if it's you … I can't take the chance."

Vader's arm was still extended. "Did it ever occur to you that joining the Dark Side might save your wife?"

"Yes," Anakin admitted. "But there's more. She's carrying my child."

Vader's eyes widened. "Your … your child?"

Anakin's eyes became hard. "I won't let Sidious use my child as leverage against me. If he finds out, he'll try to take him or her away and raise them in his own image. Padmé would never, ever forgive me for that. And I would never forgive myself for that."

Vader lowered his hand. Anger shone in his eyes, but it soon faded to be replaced by deep disappointment.

"I didn't want it to come to this," he said regretfully. "I thought I could persuade you. But if you won't join us willingly, I have no choice but to bring you in by force."

Anakin said nothing. He had expected this. In his weakened condition, he would be no match for whatever Sidious chose to break him.

_I'm sorry, Padmé. I have failed you._

Vader walked around and positioned himself behind Anakin. "This is going to hurt, Anakin. Forgive me."

Anakin closed his eyes. One final tear fell from the corner of his eye. In his world, absolution was, and always had been, impossible to achieve.

Vader drew back his armored fist, preparing to drive it into the back of Anakin's head and send him spiraling from consciousness. Anakin relaxed as Vader's fist shot down.

An indistinct shape rushed out of the darkness and flung itself onto Anakin, wrapping its arms around his neck, shielding from Vader. The Dark Lord's fist halted centimeters from Anakin's skull. "What?"

"Obi-Wan," Padmé said brokenly, her voice muffled as she buried her face in Anakin's shoulder. "You _promised_. You promised me you wouldn't kill him."

Vader seemed taken aback by Padmé's sudden arrival, but he recovered quickly.

"I don't intend to kill him, Padmé. I would never do that. This is for his own good."

Anakin kept his eyes closed as he inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of his wife. He wrapped his one remaining arm around her tightly, holding her like he was never going to let go. Padmé, in response, kissed his cheek tenderly and tightened her own embrace. Then she turned her face up to Vader.

"You're going to bring him to Sidious, aren't you?"

Vader nodded. "My Master will be able to succeed where I failed."

Padmé shook her head, tears now falling down her own cheeks. "Obi-Wan, how can you serve that monster? He cares for nothing but his own ambition and power. When he has what he wants, he'll kill you both!"

Vader smiled cruelly. "Not if we act first. That is the way of the Sith."

A spark of fear flashed across Padmé's brave face. "I won't let you take him, Obi-Wan."

Vader's smile vanished. "Padmé, be sensible. The New Order is what this galaxy needs. You could help us right the wrongs of the galaxy. And Anakin told me about your child. I know my Master; this is the only way he or she will be allowed to live a full life."

Padmé placed her mouth next to Anakin's ear. "You told him?" she whispered.

Anakin stroked a loose strand of his wife's hair. "Yes, love. I'm sorry."

Padmé kissed his forehead in response, forgiving him. Then she turned back to Vader. Her eyes shone with the fiercest determination in the galaxy.

"No child of mine is _ever_ going to be raised as a Sith."

Vader's face became a mask of resolute anger. "Then I am going to have to bring you both in!"

He raised his fist again. Anakin held his wife close against him. "I love you," he whispered.

She drew even closer to him. "I know."

Just before the blow was about to fall, an explosion shook the Temple roof.

Vader spun around, lightsaber in hand and ignited. He looked at the place where the disturbance had come, a burning hole of melted metal. Through the smoke rocketed a speeder.

A woman standing in the backseat fired three bolts at Vader. The Dark Lord's lightsaber effortlessly blocked them, sending them ricocheting back at their owner. The driver of the speeder banked into a sharp turn, and the bolts missed the vehicle. It began to come around for another pass. Vader's eyes followed it.

Padmé pulled Anakin to his feet. "Go!"

The speeder came in low, its gunner firing again. Vader deflected the bolts, then jumped up and slashed at the control rod. He missed, but the speeder received a huge gash across its engine compartment. It flailed wildly, smoking trailing as it banked away.

Padmé was half-guiding, half-carrying Anakin as she led them to the edge of the roof. Vader didn't not seem to notice that they were escaping him. His eyes were fixed on the speeder. As it came around for another pass, someone else stood up beside the woman holding the gun. He held himself tall, looking right at the Dark Lord. It was Mace Windu.

Vader's eyes immediately turned a blistering, hate-filled red. His teeth bared in a bloodthirsty snarl, he charged the oncoming speeder. The driver pulled up, and the woman dropped a stun grenade. Vader leapt high into the air, easily avoiding the detonation.

The speeder raced towards the edge of the platform, where Padmé and Anakin stood. It quickly touched down, and Bail extended a hand. "Padmé! Anakin! Get in, now!"

Padmé jumped into the speeder, and pulled Anakin after her. As the wounded, delirious Jedi was sliding into the seat, he looked back and saw Vader twenty meters away.

The Dark Lord only now seemed to realize that Anakin and Padmé were escaping. He rushed the speeder, while Bail started the engine. Mace continued to stand tall and defiant, looking directly at Vader. He extended a hand, palm facing out.

Vader sneered at the Jedi Master, then raised his own hand. A long, jagged spar from the destroyed satellite rose into the air, a flash of lightning illuminating its fearfully sharp tip. The makeshift spear drew back, aimed directly at Mace's heart.

Another woman jumped up in the backseat, right next to Master Windu, waving her arms frantically. "Obi-Wan, no!"

It was Sabé. Vader saw her, and his eyes widened. The red tint dimmed, and the spear wavered in the air. He hesitated.

Bail punched the throttle. "Go!"

The speeder rose into the air, rising quickly. It took Vader less than a second to realize he had been played. His eyes burned red again. Sabé continued to scream, pleading with him not to do it, but Vader was too far gone. He threw the jagged spar with all his hatred.

Sabé threw herself on top of Mace, forcing him down. The spear hissed as it shot by centimeters over their heads and arced into the darkness. Spared by fate, the speeder and its six fugitives turned and raced for the perimeter, where just beyond the earliest light of dawn was starting to break through the storm.

Anakin lay in the front seat with Padmé sprawled across his chest. His wife was crying silently, tears of sheer relief coursing down her perfect face. She kissed him feverishly, as if to assure herself he was really still alive.

As they raced away towards the dawn, Anakin painfully turned his head back towards the Temple. There, just visible in the driving rain, stood a man, holding a blue lightsaber at his side. Darth Vader was staring after his former apprentice and brother, his face unreadable. Over the ever-increasing distance between them, they kept their eyes locked on each other's face.

Then Vader deactivated his lightsaber, and his outline vanished into the darkness. The last traces of light also faded from Anakin's mind, and he knew no more.

* * *

**This was the chapter I had wanted to write since I started this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I know that you had to suspend your disbelief occasionally, and that this probably creates more questions that it answers, but answers are coming soon!**


	34. Necesary Measures

Well, now that the duel's over this story is going to slow down, right? Wrong.

I have to say that I am humbled and simaltaneously blown away by your responses. I thank each and every one of you for reading and taking the time to talk about what you enjoyed most or had questions about. While I cannot to individual replies now, I will answer one question: yes, there will be more Sabe/Obi-Wan-Vader romance and it will play a substantial part in the rest of the story.

Now, here's Chapter 34. Enjoy!

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* * *

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**Chapter 34**

"I appreciate your optimism, Padmé," Bail said, "But I really can't see where it's coming from."

Padmé sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. "It's not really optimism, Bail. It's reality. If we act quickly, we can still salvage some of what we have lost."

"The reality, Padmé, is that we have cut almost all of our remaining lifelines. While I certainly don't regret coming to your aid … I would do it again in a nanosecond … you have to understand that you and I have effectively destroyed ourselves on the political scene. You cannot believe that Palpatine will allow us to remain in the Senate after this."

The two Senators and their six companions were sitting around a circular table in the conference room of the _Tantive IV_. Bail had summoned the ship immediately following their escape from the Jedi Temple, and they were currently heading for … they didn't really know where. Captain Antilles had plotted a course for Alderaan, but whether or not they would actually disembark there remained a point of contention. No one wanted to place Senator Organa's homeworld in unnecessary peril.

Bail was seated in their chair closest to the door, presiding over the meeting. Though he was now clean and shaven, his tired eyes revealed that he had slept less than two hours since leaving Coruscant. He desperately needed rest, but it had been he who had called the meeting, giving voice to the unspoken assent of everyone that they desperately needed to discuss their options.

To Bail's right was Sheltay, fulfilling her dual role as advisor and bodyguard. The near death of her friend and employer on Coruscant had clearly set her on edge, and her tense posture and searching eyes suggested she was on constant watch for any threat, even in a locked cabin room in hyperspace among friends. No one could blame her; their ordeal had been enough to keep everyone unnerved.

Next to Sheltay was Mace Windu. The Jedi Master sat erect and confident, remarkable for a man who had been comatose less than twelve hours ago. He had removed the bandages from his arms and head, restoring his undeniable look of being untouchable. He had been a voice of reason throughout the debate, involving everyone and providing direction when it was needed. He fulfilled his role with the same intense grace he had enacted as Senior Council member. Only the occasional reflexive clenching of his new mechanical arm revealed that he too was holding back certain feelings about the situation.

Sabé was next to Mace. She had been relatively quiet, but everyone admired the resolve with which she was conducting herself, expressing her opinion confidently when called upon. However, there was an pained expression lurking in her eyes that suggested her thought were occupied with the one issue they had yet to discuss, fearful of the volatile storm it would provoke.

To Sabé's right was Yoda. The group had picked up the Master's signal a short time after they had gone to lightspeed, and Captain Antilles had immediately altered course to pick up the stranded Jedi. Yoda had been extremely pensive when they had found him, and though he had participated in their discussion considerably, even now he appeared to be in a state of meditation. He seemed to have learned through the Force most of what had transpired, and had needed little explanatory evidence from the others. No doubt he had much to say about the crucial topic, but with over eight hundred years of practicing patience, he was willing to let the debate take its natural course.

Captain Antilles, whom Bail had insisted join their conference, sat next to Yoda, having entrusted control of the ship to his subordinate officers. He had been perceptive enough to send a speeder to Five Hundred Replica to pick up R2-D2 and C-3PO, and the two loyal droids were currently helping navigate the ship – or at least Artoo was. Threepio had been consigned to translating the ship's statistical engine readouts, a task, which he had informed them twenty-seven times, was incredibly dull.

Padmé was to the right of Captain Antilles, and she had been the strongest voice in the debate. Though she had suffered greatly at both the CMI and the Jedi Temple, she did not let adversity daunt her, and conducted herself with the same fiery determination and idealism that had guided her through a decade and a half of politics. She was currently taking the lead on the issue of how best to organize their response to Palpatine's play for power, and her energy was raising the morale of almost everyone in the room.

And next to Padmé, silently avoiding everyone's eyes, was Anakin.

He was the only one who had yet to speak. Throughout the course of the meeting, he had stared fixedly at the polished surface of the table, his newly replaced mechanical hand and his real one framing his reflection. He had only looked up when directly spoken to, and never responded, even when someone asked for his opinion. His blue eyes lacked the determined glint that had characterized them since his padawan years. They were flat and empty, giving the impression that both his heart and his soul had vacated his body. There was no trace of shock, of anger, or of despair. There was only the emptiness one sees in the eyes of someone who is dead, or who has lost everything that he had ever believed made life worth living.

Everyone wanted desperately to help him, but nothing, not even the openly loving caresses of his wife, had stirred his from silence. Some there wondered if he was even conscious of the others, but Mace and Yoda seemed to have picked up a barely perceptible vibe that Anakin was still there, and that the right stimuli would shatter his mask. What the reaction would be when it came, however, was impossible for anyone to say.

"You're right, he will not let us keep our positions in the Senate," Padmé agreed. "He will use the opportunity to mark us as traitors and nullify every charge the Delegation of Two Thousand has brought against him. Therefore, we must also take this opportunity. We have allies in the Senate. We need to contact them – to warn them – before Palpatine has them arrested on the suspicion of aiding and abetting. If they are able, they will aid us, and we can start making preparations for countering the Chancellor's influence before he cuts us off completely. We did not do all this working laying the foundations for an alliance to restore the Republic for nothing."

"I see your point," Bail said resignedly. "We do need to do something. I just wonder if mobilizing the Alliance so soon, before we actually know what we're up against, is the wisest idea."

"Senator Organa is correct," Mace interjected calmly. "The true master of defense seeks to learn his opponent's intentions, so that he can move accordingly to counter the actions which will spring from them. If we are to organize an effective resistance, we need to know what Chancellor Palpatine intentions are, how he plans to proceed now that the greatest threat to his power has been removed."

"I think it's obvious what his intentions are," Padmé said bitterly. "He intends to dispense with the illusion of democracy he has been holding over us for years and establish himself as complete dictator. The fact that he's a Sith Lord will make it all the easier for him."

"Brilliant, Palpatine is, but infallible, he is not," Yoda said. "In his takeover, careful was his planning, but underestimated us, he did. Count not, did he, that some Jedi would survive his purge. Vulnerable, he remains. Knows this, he does."

"It's true. While the remaining Jedi are at large, Palpatine will remain cautious," Mace said. "But that does not mean he will halt his plans until we are all captured or dead. He will move to consolidate his position. And that is where we remain ignorant. We do not know when or how he will act, and his options are too numerous for us to counter them all. He has control of the Senate, as well as the judicial courts. He has the support of the loyal trade unions, and I have no doubt the clone army is taking its orders directly from him. And then of course," Mace took a calm breath, "he has the most deadly weapon of them all – his new apprentice."

Anakin's hands immediately clenched into fists. Padmé noticed, and placed a restraining hand on his tense shoulder. Sabé, her eyes suddenly glistening, rose slightly out of her seat. "Master Windu, I don't think we should …"

"No." Mace silenced her objection by locking eyes with her, his face holding a gentle, but firm rebuke. "We have put off this issue long enough."

Sheltay bit her lip nervously, and Bail suddenly became very interested in a certain spot on the wall. Yoda's grave expression spoke volumes.

Mace turned and spoke directly to his young friend. "Anakin, I understand that this is very hard for you. Obi-Wan was one of my closest friends, and I know that to you he was both a mentor and father figure. But the survival of the Republic as we know it depends on what you can tell me now. What did he say to you? Did he reveal anything about his master's agenda – what they intend to do?"

Anakin slowly raised his head to meet Mace's gaze. An indiscernible emotion flickered in his eyes, then vanished, leaving them as empty as before. He did not speak.

"Please, Anakin," Mace said sternly.

The Jedi lowered his gaze, then slowly opened his mouth to speak, his voice rough with disuse.

"He wanted me to turn," he said quietly. "He said that it was my destiny to bring balance to Force by joining the Sith. That he and I could remake the galaxy, bring justice and peace to it by eliminating the corruption …" he swallowed, "…of the old Jedi Order."

A cloud passed over Mace's face, but it did not linger. "Continue, Anakin."

"He mentioned … a New Order," Anakin said slowly, painfully forcing each word through his ragged throat. "He seemed possessed when he spoke of it … his eyes glowed with a fanaticism that suggested he could see the entire galaxy spread out before him … that he would be lord of it all. But he didn't want it all for himself … he wanted me to stand at his side and help him create it."

"What did he say to entice you?" Mace inquired seriously.

The inner agony of Anakin's mind crossed his face. "He said that … we could overthrow Palpatine, take his throne … he said it was the only way those I care about would be safe."

Padmé's hand moved from his shoulder to his back. "And what did you say?" she asked quietly.

The agony on Anakin's face increased. "I …"

He stopped and lowered his face, unable to finish his sentence.

"That's enough," Mace said firmly. "I think I can put together a picture from this testimony. Palpatine intends to declare himself an absolute monarch, and he intends to do it soon. That is why Vader was sent to subjugate Anakin so quickly. If a New Order is being proposed, then it is clear that Palpatine does not intend to leave any traces of the Republic's structure in place. He will mobilize the military, and disband the Senate."

"But how?" Sheltay asked. "How can he possibly hope to control tens of thousands of star systems without the Senate?"

"His amendment," Bail said bitterly. "He has appointed governors for all the star systems, and as long as he controls the clone army, no one will challenge their authority."

"Leave the Senate intact for now, he will," Yoda concluded. "More benevolent, it will make him appear."

"So we must reach as many Senators as we can before he can blind them with notions of his own nobility," Padmé said determinedly. "He will have the support of the majority, but a few of our colleagues will be willing to listen. And we need to do it before he can start spreading his propaganda."

"I'm afraid that that process has already begun, Senator," Mace said gravely. "I have no doubt that he intends to cast the surviving Jedi as traitors to the Republic, and then use the context of a military crusade to spread his forces all over the galaxy." He rubbed his brow with his real left hand. "Unfortunately, we don't know how many other Jedi managed to survive, if any. All I can sense is that all the other Council Members are dead. Their insight will be missed …"

At this Anakin made a derisive sound that was halfway in between a snarl and a snort of disgust. He raised his head, and everyone turned to look at him. The look on the Chosen One's face was one of the utmost contempt.

"Unless we want to learn how to best sell out what allies we have left," he said coldly, "I think that the _insights_ of the Council are better left dead, as they are."

Padmé placed a warning hand on Anakin's forearm. "Anakin, don't …"

Anakin ignored the placating gesture. "It's _their_ fault that we're in this situation in the first place," he said. "If they hadn't been so incompetent, so _treacherous_ …"

Mace had risen out of his seat. "Anakin, what exactly are you saying?"

"They sold him out!" Anakin exploded, leaping out of his seat and snatching his arm away from Padmé. "That's why Obi-Wan joined Sidious! Because Pablo-Jill and his puppets betrayed him into Grievous's hands!"

A flash of shock registered on Mace's face at Anakin's outburst. "Anakin, that's absolutely ridiculous."

"Is it?" Anakin challenged. "Or are you just trying to cover up your own involvement?"

Yoda did not stand as Mace had, but the look on his face was one of deathly seriousness. "Stop, Knight Skywalker! Have no basis for these accusations, do you."

Anakin turned his contemptuous glare on Yoda. "No basis? How about the direct word of my former Master on why he was compelled to _kill everyone in the Jedi Temple_!"

Sabé gasped in horror and covered her mouth. Bail reeled backwards as though he had been struck. Padmé shrank away from Anakin, her deep brown eyes widening as she absorbed the paralyzing news. "What?"

Mace and Yoda shared a long glance, silently transferring thoughts through the Force. Then they turned to Anakin and Mace spoke. "Anakin, Darth Vader is a Sith Lord. Truth and lies are but tools to him, to be used as weapons if need be. You cannot trust anything that he says, especially his justification for mass murder."

"No," Anakin snarled. "Especially when justice might be the better word."

"Anakin!"

"It fits," Anakin continued angrily, ignoring the warning. "What else could cause him to join the Sith? They were his sworn enemies!"

Yoda looked at him sternly. "A powerful motivation, the lure of power is".

"Anakin, before confronting the Chancellor I heard a recording," Mace said. "In it, Darth Sidious commissioned Grievous to capture Obi-Wan and bring him in so that he, Sidious, could turn him. It was part of a plot to get _you_ to fall. Anything that Sidious told Obi-Wan was specifically designed to lure him to the dark side, so that he could then do the same to you. Can't you see that by taking your current line of reasoning, you are playing right into his hands?"

"If Sidious is controlling everything," Anakin spat, "Then it makes perfect sense that's he's been controlling most of the Council as well."

Mace looked right at Anakin, and for the first time there was a hint of real anger. "Stop, Anakin. You have been forced to witness a crushing truth, and I know that its weight is difficult to bear. But the Council is not the root of this evil. Yes, we were blind. Yes, we made mistakes. Yes, we never should have given up on Obi-Wan. But the fact remains that out of his own volition, Obi-Wan has joined the Sith. And regardless of what the other Council members have done, nothing can ever justify the choice he made to slaughter them."

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" Anakin bellowed. "THE COUNCIL SOLD HIM OUT! THEY BETRAYED HIM! _THE SCUM DESERVED TO DIE_!"

There was dead silence. Everyone was looking at Anakin with a mixture of shock and fear. The air around the young Jedi had gone cold as ice, and dark waves of power rolled off of him, their suffocating elements pervading everything and everyone in the room. Sabé, Bail, Sheltay, and Captain Antilles were shielding themselves from the onslaught of the deadly energy that had assaulted them. Padmé had drawn away from her husband in fear. Even Mace and Yoda appeared to be taken aback at the strength of the turmoil within the Chosen One.

Anakin surveyed them all for a moment, pain and rage merging into a terrible storm in his eyes. Then slowly it began to fade. The power that had exuded from him was reabsorbed, freeing the conference room of its stifling embrace. Anakin blinked and shook himself slightly, trying to free himself from the claws of the beast that had seized him. Then without a word he turned, opened the door, and fled the scene.

The seven remaining occupants of the room remained in stunned silence for a moment, unable or unwilling to move. Then finally, Mace pushed in his chair and headed for the door. "I'd better go talk to him."

Padmé cut him off, gently placing a restraining hand in his path. "No, please. Let me."

Mace looked to Yoda, who had closed his eyes, drawing the currents of the Force to him as he sought its guidance and its will. Finally, he spoke slowly, as if from a great distance.

"Help him now, only she can."

Mace nodded in understanding and stepped aside. Nodding in thanks, Padmé walked through the door and headed down the corner in search of her troubled husband.

* * *

Padmé found Anakin in a storage hold, full of crates containing spare engine parts. Actually, she could hear him before she saw him; there were unmistakable noises of metal clashing on metal. She arrived just time to she Anakin, an expression of pure agony on his face, drive his mechanical hand into the wall, punching a fist-sized hole in the solid durasteel. Anakin withdrew his hand, then struck again, making a second hole next to the first. Ripping his arm free once more, he drew it back again.

Padmé stepped towards him. "Anakin!"

Anakin rounded on her, his fist still raised. When he saw Padmé's face, his arm fell to his side and he turned away, shame now mingling with the pain on his face. Padmé drew closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He tensed at her touch. "Padmé, please. Don't."

Padmé ignored his statement, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, encircling him with her warmth. "Shhhh, my love. It's all right."

Anakin placed his real hand on the wall to steady himself, his head bowed. "Padmé, I'm … I'm so sorry. I frightened you."

Padmé caressed his chest and stomach. "Don't worry about it. That wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," Anakin said brokenly. His breath caught as he choked back what sounded like a sob. "It was my fault. It was _all_ my fault."

Padmé's voice became firm. "Anakin, look at me."

Anakin withdrew his hand from the wall and turned slowly in her embrace until he was facing her. Padmé reached up tenderly and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Anakin's face. Her hand remained on his cheek as she spoke. "Now listen to me. It was not your fault. What happened to Obi-Wan was _not your fault_."

Anakin tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat. His legs began to shake, and Padmé gently guided him down to sit on one of the nearby crates. She sat down right next to him, his arm around his shoulders, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

"I can't believe it, Padmé," Anakin whispered. "All those years of training, the one person I could always look to was Obi-Wan. He always knew what to say when my frustration with the Council would boil over, or when I would fail to complete some challenge I had been given. He showed me how to use the Force, how to fight, how to mediate disputes … everything. And not just about being a Jedi, but a human being. He was the one I looked up to for everything, whether it was guidance or approval. He seemed incapable of doing anything wrong, and that both inspired me and frustrated me. Yet when I held it against him, he never held it against me. He would always forgive me, no matter what wrong I had done."

A fresh wave of pain broke behind Anakin's eyes. "If it wasn't for him, I would have fallen or been killed long ago. I thought that no matter what happened to the Jedi Order, or the Republic, or to me, that he would always be there. There was no one more deeply rooted in the Light. He would have rather died than abandoned his beliefs in its power and what it stood for. Yet despite everything … he fell. He fell to the Dark Side."

Anakin closed his eyes and turned his face away from his wife so that she could not see the tear that fell from the corner of one of them and ran smoothly down his face.

"He betrayed us."

Padmé turned his head back towards her, her own heart aching with the weight of her husband's grief. With one tender finger, she brushed away the trail that the tear had left. Then summoning her seemingly limitless reservoir of strength, she kept her face resolute.

"I know how hard this is for you to hear," she said gently, "but there is nothing you could have done. You didn't know that Utapau was a setup. You didn't know that Obi-Wan was captured, not killed. You could not have guessed at Sidious's intentions. He fooled _everyone_, including me."

"I could have been there with him," Anakin forced out. "I could have demanded that the Council let me go with him to Utapau. I could have ignored their decree. I _should_ have. Every time I have _ever_ listened to them, someone I cared about has been lost."

"If you had gone, Anakin," Padmé said, "Then you would have been captured too. Sidious would have you both." She placed her free hand on his knee. "_I_ would have lost you."

Anakin smiled bitterly. "What if you already have?"

Padmé's grip on his knee tightened. "What are you talking about? How could you say that?"

Anakin turned his head away. He appeared to be struggling with a great dilemma, one that he was terrified that if revealed, would drive her away from him. Finally, he brought himself back to face her, guilt visible in his eyes.

"I was going to join him, Padmé," he said softly. "When he offered me a chance to stand at his side, to create the New Order, to rule the galaxy … I was going to take it. The strength of his vision, a galaxy where we alone would be able to bring about peace and destroy injustice …it overwhelmed me, Padmé. I wanted that power, that control. And I was willing to give up everything for it."

Padmé was stunned by Anakin's confession. She didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. Anakin continued.

"I was taken by a rush of emotions, the kind of anger I had felt when I killed the Tuskens. The power and the enjoyment I had gotten out of it consumed me again. I wanted more. And Obi-Wan was there, offering it to me. It seemed the perfect course of action to join him."

"But you didn't," Padmé said. "Why?"

Anakin looked directly into her eyes. "Because of you, Padmé. I knew that you would be in danger if I joined him, and that you would never forgive me for placing our child in such danger. I couldn't live with that."

Padmé removed her hand from Anakin's knee and placed it on the side of his neck. She drew in close. "Anakin, no matter what happens, I will always be there for you. I will always love you, with all my heart and soul."

For the first time, a slight smile appeared on Anakin's face. "Padmé, I …"

Padmé held a finger up to Anakin's lips, silencing him. She leaned in and kissed him deeply. Anakin returned the kiss, pouring out to his wife the full magnitude of his love for her, so intense that it overwhelmed even her defenses easily. The two of them sat there for what seemed an eternity, lost in a peaceful and revitalizing haze.

In a flash, Padmé remembered what Anakin had told her several months ago; before the Chancellor had revealed himself as a Sith Lord, before he had lured Obi-Wan to his side, when their only concern had been how to keep their impending parenthood a secret from the Jedi.

_"Three things kept me going through the darkest times, Padmé. Obi-Wan guidance, trust in the Chancellor, and your love. Now I've lost one of them. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."_

Anakin's concerns about the Chancellor had been validated; Palpatine had never had the Republic's best interests at heart. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who had guided Anakin through the most turbulent period of his life, was gone, consumed by an irrational anger that had driven him to embrace Palpatine's vision of tyranny. Only Padmé remained, her love the lone pillar of stability in his life, and the only thing that was keeping him from sliding into the darkness.

In a galaxy ruled by shadows, she was the one light. All she could do was stand by him and make sure that the strongest force in the galaxy would not waver, and that her light would remain as constant as the stars.

* * *

"So they got away?"

"Yes, My Master."

Lord Sidious fixed his apprentice with a piercing stare. "And you are certain … absolutely certain … that they are no longer on Coruscant?"

"Completely certain, Master."

Sidious leaned back into his throne and sighed. "How unfortunate," he said, almost wistfully. "How very unfortunate."

Darth Vader, who had been anticipating a much more volatile reaction from his master, kept his head down and continued to kneel. He had just finished given the Dark Lord a report on his attempt to capture Anakin, one that had been extremely comprehensive and detailed … until the end. After describing how his former identity had been revealed, Vader had shifted subtly but deliberately into vague allusions, culminating in the appearance of the speeder which had whisked Anakin and Padmé away. He had not told his master about his attempt to enlist Anakin in overthrowing him, or that it was Sabé's appearance that had caused the hesitation which had allowed the Jedi and his allies to escape. Part of this stemmed from his own rage at missing his chance to kill Master Windu; the emotions, the _weakness_ that had flooded him at the sight of Sabé's face appalled him. This was the second time he had hesitated, first with Siri, and now with Sabé. This second intervention had cost him a chance to enact justice. He had thought he had killed enough Masters to sate his vengeance, but seeing Master Windu there, defiant and arrogant, had ignited such a geyser of hate in his heart that he had lost control. He knew now that he would not be satisfied until all the Council members were dead, and evidence of their existence had been expunged from the galaxy.

Then there was a third detail he had omitted from his account, one that he had no reason justifiable to his Sith mindset for doing so. He had not told Sidious about Padmé's pregnancy. He knew that if he did divulge that information, it would instantly redeem him for his failure in his master's eyes. The possibility of having a young heir, incredibly powerful in the Force, to the Sith legacy would ensure that when he, his master, and Anakin took the last step, the New Order would be in good hands. But something inside him crawled at the idea of Anakin and Padmé's child, his veritable niece or nephew, in the hands of his master. Anakin had told him in confidence, the confidence he had never shown when they were both Jedi. Though he had no obligation not to reveal the secret, something held him back from doing so. He had an unalienable sense that he would sooner die than allow Anakin and Padmé's blessing to be compromised and subsequently defiled by the man he was kneeling before now. If Anakin's child were ever to embrace the Dark Side, then Sidious would have to be destroyed first, by Vader's own hand, if necessary.

The images of the younglings from the Temple stole into his mind. The ones that had looked like Anakin, Padmé, and even Sabé …

Vader shuddered almost imperceptibly. To his great relief, Sidious did not notice.

"Tell me again, Lord Vader," he said, "About the last minute or so of your encounter. You had defeated Skywalker and were in the process of convincing him to join us. You say that he was seconds away from doing so, but then his wife arrived and shielded him. You were going to subdue them both, but then the speeder arrived and in the resulting confusion, you were distracted and they escaped. What distracted you? Who was in the speeder?"

Vader kept his gaze averted. "Mace Windu, My Lord."

Sidious's eyes narrowed. "Ah. So at the crucial moment, your hatred of the Jedi Council overtook you and diverted your attention from Skywalker. His wife took advantage of the opportunity to whisk him away."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Tell me, Lord Vader, why you did not simply destroy the speeder. Such a task is well within your considerable power."

"I intended to, My Lord. The pilot evaded the worst of my attack, though I dealt the vehicle considerable damage. It could not have made it very far without relief. By the time Master Windu had presented himself as a target, Anakin and Padmé had boarded the speeder. I could not destroy it then."

"So you settled instead for trying to impale the treacherous Jedi Master, but even so injured, he was reflexive enough to evade the attack. He survived yet again."

Vader clenched his jaw. "Forgive me, My Lord."

"I am not angry, Lord Vader," Sidious said smoothly. "I am disappointed, yes, but you succeeded in what I ordered you to do, which was to subdue Anakin. In fact, it sounds as though the manner in which you did so was most impressive indeed. There were unanticipated factors which you had not accounted for, but you will be ready for them next time, will you not?"

Vader raised his head. "Yes, My Master."

"Good," Sidious smiled. "Rise, Lord Vader, and take heart. All is not lost."

Vader rose to his feet. Sidious turned his head to the side.

"However, I am curious about something. Master Windu was not supposed to be at the Jedi Temple, because he was supposed to be dead. I entrusted you with that task, Mirthrada. You failed me."

Mirthrada Nuruodo emerged from the shadows flanking Sidious's throne. "I apologize, My Lord. I did all that I could."

"Clearly, all that you could do was not enough," Sidious said sharply. "No, I do not want excuses. Master Windu escaped your grasp, and then proceeded to sabotage Lord Vader's effort to bring in Anakin Skywalker. Not only that, but he was aided by Padmé Amidala and Bail Organa, who _also_ took part in the sabotage. You failed to apprehend any of them. Tell me, Mirthrada, are you losing your touch?"

The Chiss's red eyes glowed ominously. "No, My Lord."

"You had better not be," Sidious snapped. "You have served me well for many years, but I cannot have you start to break down at this crucial time. I have put far too much energy into my plan to have it ruined now."

"Things are far from ruined, My Lord."

"That is obvious, Mirthrada, but if you fail again the consequences may be greater. As it is, we have two traitorous Senators on the loose, along with a member of the Jedi Council. True, they can accomplish little. Even so, I want them found. They will continue to be an annoyance until they are."

Nuruodo reached into his cloak. "I believe that I can help with that, My Lord."

From a concealed pouch on his belt he drew out a small, black datapad. The device was battered, looking like it had caught the edge of an explosion, but it was clearly still operational. The Chiss handed it to Sidious, who examined it critically. "What is this, Mirthrada?"

The alien smiled. "Senator Organa dropped it during his escape. It contains the contact information and homeworlds of over one hundred of his political associates, known and unknown. In addition …"

He reached over and pushed a button on the device, changing the screen display. "It also contained preliminary schematic reports of a dozen potential bases of operations, framework for resistance groups, and the objective agendas for the leader of each cell, perfectly coordinated with the overall agenda of the entire group. In effect …" Nuruodo tapped another button, revealing a diagram of a crude insignia, "This datapad contains the administrative information of a Rebel Alliance."

Sidious's eyes scanned the screen quickly, hardening as they did so. Without warning, he stood up, clutching the datapad. He gestured to Vader and Nuruodo. "Both of you come with me."

He rapidly crossed the throne room and headed down the hallway to the Command Center. Vader followed a few steps behind his master, his long strides easily keeping pace. Nuruodo brought up the rear, moving quickly and quietly.

They arrived at the Command Center shortly afterwards. Sidious immediately moved to the main terminal and opened a connection port, transferring all the information on the datapad to the mainframe. When the download was complete, he turned back to his servants.

"I might go so far as to say this atones for your failure, Mirthrada," he said eagerly, his reddish eyes glowing with malicious intent. "I had complied considerable information on the plans of Senator Organa myself, but this makes everything so much more comprehensive. We now have all the proof we need."

Vader stepped forward. "Does this mean that we will be able to destroy the resistance before it ever threatens the Republic?"

"Yes, my friend, but patience. We have initiatives of our own to take first." He spread his arms. "The time has come for us to make our presence known, and announce the arrival of the New Order."

Vader frowned. "So soon, My Lord?"

"Yes. The timing is perfect," Sidious said gleefully. "We have eliminated the Jedi, the greatest threat to our vision. The Senate is reeling, and the people demand strong leaders. All they need is a cause justifying this action. And what better cause than the betrayal of their interests by the Jedi and certain prominent Senators? Billions will bow before us as we condemn this new evil, and trillions more will follow their example. The great revolution will be completed smoothly, with the Sith at its helm as was ordained by the Force!"

Vader managed to keep his face neutral, though he was burning with eagerness inside. "How do you propose to accomplish this, Master?"

Sidious turned back to the vidscreen. "I will call a special session of the Senate, and there I will announce the treachery of the Jedi and certain members of the government. The lust for victory and power, already high following the veritable defeat of the Separatists, will create a wave of unstoppable momentum, engulfing or crushing all before it. When it reaches its peak, I will declare myself Emperor, and the New Order will have arrived at last!"

Vader raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan to reveal me at this … political rally as well?"

Sidious smiled. "You, my friend, will need no introduction. There will be plenty of time for you to get used to politics later. For now, the tales of your deeds, the whispers of your accomplishments will circulate quickly, and you will become legendary. Your shadow will stretch from Coruscant to the outermost worlds of the Rim, where the shattered remains of the Separatists still hide. No one will dare to stand against you, as you take your post as the true guardian of justice in this galaxy. Your name will become synonymous with power – Darth Vader."

The new Dark Lord of the Sith smiled. "And when Anakin joins us?"

"He will create his own legacy, which when merged with yours will create a force the likes of which this universe has never seen. It will last for thousands of years." Sidious closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of power. "First, we must find him. The information Mirthrada provided will prove instrumental to this task. They are bound to try and regroup on one of their allies' worlds, so we will head them off. However, there is another matter that must be dealt with, even before finding Anakin."

He opened his eyes and fixed Vader and Nuruodo with an icy glare. "This latest sequence of events marked the third time that Padmé Amidala _Skywalker_ has thwarted me. _I will not stand for it._"

Vader raised an eyebrow, but an invisible hand suddenly clenched around his chest. He didn't like where this was going. "My Lord, while Padmé is a dangerous political opponent, surely our efforts would be better spent on Anakin …"

"No," Sidious snapped. "She is the root of the problem. Every time Skywalker takes an agreeable step towards the Dark Side, she is there to pull him back. The woman has him entranced with her beauty and noble nature, as well as that cursed binding force, love. If Anakin is going to embrace his destiny and join us, _she_ has to be removed."

The invisible fist tightened its iron grip painfully on Vader's chest. Forcing back a furious explosion, he forced himself to speak calmly, looking his master right in the eye. "Lord Sidious, I know Anakin very, very well. Please understand this. Anakin will _never_ join us if he discovers that we have done _anything_ to harm his wife."

Sidious laughed. "It appears that even now you still entertain misguided notions about the power of love, Lord Vader," he said, savage mirth distorting his voice. "However, I concede your point. He cannot be allowed to discover that we had a hand in his wife's removal. Nor can we afford to kill her, though I would take great pleasure in knowing that the witch can no longer trouble me. She has too much value as leverage. I would have to entrust this mission to a servant that I know could do the job effectively without subverting my orders. My first choice would be you, Lord Vader."

He cast an eye at his apprentice. Vader's face gave no sign, but his body tensed visibly, belying the turmoil inside of him.

Sidious continued, a trace of amusement prevalent in his voice. "However, it seems that despite your outstanding immersion in the Dark Side, my friend, you do not have the stomach for such a task. I will need to use someone else."

Nuruodo shifted slightly. "Me, My Lord?"

"No," Sidious said calmly. "You too would be well suited for the mission, but I need you to go with Lord Vader. He will be tasked with making a preemptive strike at a potential site of resistance, and your experience in such manners will be well suited to aiding him."

Nuruodo bowed. "Very well."

Sidious moved to the terminal, pulled a file onto another datapad, and handed it to Vader. "You will contact this associate. I believe that this is our best alternative."

Vader glanced at the datapad. His head shot back up and he fixed his master will a stare of furious disbelief.

"You cannot _possibly_ be serious."

Sidious's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I am utterly serious, Lord Vader. This operative is perfectly trained, and has been successful on many similar missions before."

Vader did not back down, his blue eyes boring into his master's red ones with the intensity of a stellar core.

"She is a psychopath! There is no way she can be trusted with this mission!"

Sidious returned Vader's stare evenly. "I sense, Lord Vader, that your adamant rejection of her capabilities stems from resentment at having clashed with her on one or two occasions in your previous life. I know perfectly well that you would like nothing more than to kill her. But you will restrain yourself. Yes, she is brutal and unstable, but she is also effective. And I am entrusting it to you that you will impress upon her the consequences if she disobeys me."

Vader ground his teeth savagely, staring hard at the name and face on the datapad. He looked up again. "Anakin has faced her before as well. He will not hesitate to kill her if he gets the chance. If you value her service at all, I would suggest that we do not involve her in this … operation."

Sidious shrugged. "She is expendable, as all my minor disciples are. Her mere involvement may be enough to get Anakin to give in to the Dark Side. If he does, her sacrifice will be well worth it."

Vader searched his mind furiously for another objection that Sidious would be forced to consider. He was unable to find one. He felt the helpless rage sear his insides as he imagined Padmé in the claws of that … that witch. It was taking all his energy not to draw back his arm and use his armored fist to smash his master's leering face. His sense of obligation to his master was warring with the duty he felt to Padmé and Anakin, who would never forgive him for consenting to this. Nor would Sabé …

The Dark Side rose up and buried the objections. This was necessary if Anakin was going to embrace his true destiny, and he was not going to let Padmé suffer serious harm. If she did, there would be fire and blood to pay.

Sidious turned back to the terminal and began to close it down, making sure to carefully take the datapad containing the information on the preliminary Alliance. "I will leave you soon, to prepare my announcement. The declaration will be made in a few hours. I suggest that you two do not delay long in initiating our plan. Speed is our greatest weapon at the moment."

Nuruodo bowed and began to gather his materials, beginning analysis of the optimal first target. Vader did not move, staring icily at the datapad in his hand as though he had been turned to stone.

Sidious returned to stand in front of him. "I know you have objections to this plan, Lord Vader, but I will impart to you that the end always, _always_ justifies the means. We must take this crucial step to counteract Senator Amidala's influence, or else we may lose our opportunity to convert Anakin to our cause. I do not want the lingering sentiments of Obi-Wan Kenobi to compromise our ultimate goal."

Vader looked up and met his master's gaze evenly, his face expressionless. "I understand, My Lord."

Sidious threw back his head and laughed.

"No, you don't, Lord Vader. But you will. That I can promise you. You will."


	35. A Sinister Agent

Hello everyone! I am extremely sorry that I have not gotten a post up in over a month, but the past few weeks have been very busy for me. I've gone back to school, football season has started, and I am in the throes of college applications. Suffice it to say that I am not through it yet, and as such updates may continue to be sparse. But I will do my best to consistently get up the chapters I have already written out. Thank you to all of you for your patience in sticking with this story.

Now, here's Chapter 35. 

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**Chapter 35**

The sun was setting over Yavin 4 when the call came.

The hard, uncompromising noise roused Asajj Ventress from the depths of her meditation at the heart of the great Massassi Temple. The currents of anger and rage that she had been allowing herself to draw upon faded away, back into the massive stone walls. The dark warrior opened her pale, predatory eyes and sighed. Why now? She had been waiting for some kind of contact from her masters for months, but why did it have to come now, when she had finally been able to grasp the true power of her surroundings?

Ventress pulled herself out of her cross-legged position and stretched her tense muscles. She was disappointed that she had been sitting on the cold stone floor for hours and had been unable to come up with a satisfactory result from her attempt. It would take several more hours before she could reach the ancient current of power again. Whatever the call was about, it had better be worth it.

She finished stretching and summoned her curved lightsabers carelessly to her hands from their resting places on either side of her. Then she began a slow, purposeful glide towards the communications center one floor below. The klaxon continued its ceaseless blaring as she descended the staircase, and Asajj glared in the direction of the noise. Yet in spite of herself, she was curious. She had not heard anything about galactic affairs for several months, and if it really was Lord Sidious, Tyrannus, or General Grievous calling, she was going to ask for a full update on how the Separatist cause was faring, and whether or not any notable Jedi had been exterminated.

She reached the communications center, which was in a state of rather bad disrepair. A vigorous green mold was growing on several of the monitors, and a family of crystal snakes had made its home under the war room display. But the main communications array was clear, so Asajj crossed over to it and opened the channel. She reeled backwards immediately at the face that greeted her.

"Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan Kenobi's visage darkened immediately. "Ventress. I see that your common sense has not improved since we last met. Do not address me by that name again."

Asajj recovered from her initial shock, and her expression became one of disdain. "Or what, _Kenobi_? You and the rest of your little Jedi friends will descend upon me and rid the Force of the corrupting influence of another darksider? Do not try my patience with such pathetic ultimatums. It is only a matter of time before Darth Tyrannus and General Grievous wipe you and the rest of your weak friends from the face of this galaxy."

Kenobi did not act like she would have anticipated. His face immediately broke into a maliciously delighted and twisted grin.

"Oh, you haven't _heard_," he said mockingly. "That's right, you've been out of touch. Well, I'll fill you in. Dooku is dead. Grievous is dead. The surviving Separatist leaders are in hiding. The war is effectively over."

Asajj Ventress was stunned. Her master, Darth Tyrannus, dead? General Grievous slain? The Separatists had lost the war? Suddenly, she wished desperately that she had been left in blissful ignorance. The idea that all she had worked for three years had been swept away while she was invisible bored into her mind like a hot vibroblade. She was inclined to brand Kenobi as a liar, but knew inherently that he spoke the truth. She felt something sour rise into her throat. The Jedi were victorious. It appalled her.

"So, then," she said bitterly, "Are you calling to gloat, Kenobi? That's not like you at all. You're supposed to be too _noble_ to take pleasure in victory. Your precious Jedi code …" she stopped. "Wait a minute. How did you even know how to contact me?"

Kenobi eyed her distastefully. "My master gave me the information. He has a mission for you."

"A mission?" Ventress exclaimed in disgust. "Your master? Is this a trick? I will never surrender to your pathetic Jedi values, and I certainly will never cooperate with your Masters on the Council!"

Suddenly, she was aware of a dark and oppressive force weighing down on her from all sides. It constricted her body painfully, and she had to struggle feverishly to breathe. She looked at Kenobi's face on the screen, and was shocked to see that his eyes had turned yellow and that his face was a steely mask of hatred.

"I serve the Jedi Council no longer," he hissed in a voice that made Ventress's spine turn to ice. "They gave themselves to treachery and met their fate … at my hands."

Ventress tried to comprehend this while still fighting the force that was binding her. It was useless; its grip only strengthened. She was conscious of falling to her knees as the oxygen deprivation began to overcome her brain. She placed one hand on the floor to steady herself as she agonizingly forced her head back up towards the display. She recognizes the aura around Kenobi, as clear and potent as it had ever been around the Count, likely more so. It was the same currents of anger and subsequent power that she had drawn from the Temple. The embrace of the Dark Side.

"Your … master …" she gasped weakly as blood began to pool in her vision.

"Yes," Kenobi said coldly. "My new master. Darth Sidious."

Abruptly, the oppressive force bearing down on Ventress released her. The dark warrior collapsed onto the hard stone floor, shaking feebly as the strength of resistance abandoned her limbs. She sucked in a ragged breath and released it as a sob, aware of just how close to death she had come.

Kenobi watched her from the monitor with a mixture of contempt and amusement in his cold blue eyes. "Get up, Ventress," he snapped. "I am on a schedule. I don't have time to watch you tremble."

Slowly and painfully, Asajj Ventress pulled herself to her feet using the display before her, until she was once more level with Kenobi. She leaned subtly on the control board for support as she tried to find her voice once more. "So, you … you've joined the Sith, then?"

"Yes," he replied icily. "I am now Darth Vader."

"A … pleasure," Asajj brought her smooth hand up to caress her still-throbbing neck. "So, My Lord … to what do I owe the honor of your transmission?"

Vader looked determinedly at her. "Lord Sidious has tasked you with an important duty. You are to locate Padmé Amidala and you are to capture her. Alive."

"I see," Asajj said evenly, absorbing the information. "And may I ask why I am supposed to capture the Senator … alive? Does Lord Sidious want the pretty thing as a trophy?"

"Absolutely not," Vader snarled. "The reason for this action is of no importance to you."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Asajj leaned in close to the monitor, well aware she was playing a dangerous game. If Kenobi … Vader … chose to lash out again, she would be powerless to stop him. "_If_ I don't know why I am supposed to be so careful, I might use excessive force. There could be …an accident."

A brief flash of something that looked suspiciously like fear flashed across Vader's face, but he recovered so quickly that Asajj was not sure she had really seen it. Ventress drew even closer to the monitor, the look on her face almost seductive. Vader drew back instinctively, then mastered himself and eyed her with a suspicious look. Finally, he spoke.

"Padmé Amidala is … very important to Anakin Skywalker. The Dark Lord desires to have Anakin join our cause, so he needs … leverage."

Ventress's eyes immediately narrowed at the mention of the name _Anakin Skywalker_. Below the monitor's view, her hands balled into fists. "Him. He should not even be alive. Why does Lord Sidious want him as his apprentice? He already has you, doesn't he?"

Vader smiled. "One, because he is the strongest Force user in this galaxy, Jedi or Sith. He is the Chosen One. Two, he has shown agreeable tendencies towards the Dark Side, and Lord Sidious is confident that our combined influence will be enough to bring him in. And three, because the Jedi Order is effectively extinct. Old he and a few rouge masters remain. There is no future in such a path, and his power will help us bring about the glorious vision of a New Order."

Ventress forced a smile. "Are you sure you are not being blinded by lingering traces of affection for your former padawan? Surely there is someone else better suited to walk the path of the Sith."

Vader raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking of yourself? I am sensing traces of bitterness. Possibly this stems from your utter defeat at Anakin's hands a few months ago?"

Ventress clenched her teeth in suppressed fury. "I nearly bested him! And you! I gave him that scar he has over his eye!"

Vader smirked and tilted his head to reveal the long scar that ran down the left side of his face, the mirror image of Anakin's. "Ah yes, and Grievous so _nearly_ got the better of me as well."

Asajj forced down a furious retort. Anger and shamed burned within her like a sacrificial pyre. _Patience. Your time will come._

"So I am to capture Senator Amidala," she said, as calmly as she could. "And then what? Torture her?"

That flash of fear passed over Vader's face again. "No. You are not to harm her. She is only being kept away so that she cannot interfere with Lord Sidious's efforts to turn Anakin. After he has joined us, she is to be released."

"With all due respect, Lord Vader," Ventress said in an appealing tone, "that doesn't sound like the best strategy. I am quite certain his descent would be hastened if you allowed me to induce a certain level of pain on this woman who is so dear to him."

A look of terrifyingly serious resolve seized Vader's face. He gave a small smile. "Tell me Asajj, would you like to know what Anakin did the last time someone he loved was tortured?"

The look in Vader's eyes told Ventress that she did not want to know.

The look on Vader's face faded, and his tone became almost pleasant. "If you have no further _insights_ to offer, then I suggest you begin your mission immediately. Our intelligence tells us that Senator Amidala is most likely heading for Alderaan. You would be wise to begin your search there. You will contact me when you have apprehended her and have brought her back to your current location. If you see Anakin, you are not to engage him. If you do, Lord Sidious and I will be most … displeased."

Ventress lowered her eyes. "Very well then. I will prepare my ship."

"Good," Vader nodded. "Oh, and Ventress …"

The dark woman looked up. "Yes?"

The mocking smile returned to Vader's lips. "Be careful. As confident as you are in your abilities, Padmé Amidala is a strong and resourceful woman. She is more than capable of handling someone like you, even if she cannot touch the Force. As much as I would love to see her discharge a blaster between your eyes, this mission has to succeed. So stay out of sight, and carry out your duty efficiently, if you are capable of doing such a thing. And remember: if she is brutalized, I will exact the consequences on you."

Ventress looked Vader right in the eye with a piercing stare. "If you don't think I can do this, why would your master entrust me with this mission?"

Vader placed his hand on a switch and fixed her with a final look of withering contempt. "That, Asajj," he said icily, "Is a question for which I have no answer."

With those words, the link was terminated.

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Darth Vader turned away from the communications console, then took a deep breath to get himself back under control. He didn't want to dismiss the anger that had been brimming just beneath the surface for the entire conversation, but he found it impossible to separate it from the weakness, the fear he had felt when Ventress had threatened to torture Padmé. He knew that she was more than capable of such an action, and it made his stomach turn to think that she might decide to take the liberty anyway, despite his very clear warning. He would impress it upon her again the next time they spoke … if they did indeed speak again. There was a part of Vader that was hoping that Padmé would kill Ventress, so that Sidious would be forced to entrust the mission to someone more stable, or even to give it up entirely. That part of him, however, was suppressed by his calculating side, which knew that if Anakin was to fall, Padmé needed to be removed for a time. Everything would be worth it once Anakin joined them. As Lord Sidious had told him, the end justified the means. The principle of a Sith.

Vader clenched his armored fist as he remembered his previous encounters with Ventress. First, he had encountered her after tracking shipments of chemical weapons on Quetya. They had dueled, and during the battle Ventress had tried to sway him to the Confederacy on behalf of Count Dooku. He had refused, and subsequently bested her. She had fled the planet and plagued the Republic on other battlefronts for months. Later, he had been placed in charge of a mission to retake the word of Jabiim, a small Outer Rim planet that had seceded from the Republic along with the Confederacy. After weeks of combat on the rain-drenched planet, his base had been destroyed in an attack, and he had been captured, along with the ARC Trooper Alpha. Ventress imprisoned him in her personal fortress on her homeworld of Rattatak, where she tortured him, hoping to break his spirit. He had escaped, and defeated her again. The enmity between them was great, even for her, consumed by hatred for all Jedi, and him, who had sworn not to hate anyone. Now, following his liberation from the Jedi, that enmity had redoubled.

This was the first matter he had really disagreed with his master on since joining the Sith. But Vader was not going to let his Master sway him on this issue, concerning someone as hateful and unstable as Asajj Ventress. In the new galaxy to be created, one of justice and freedom, there was no place for twisted fiends like her, whose sole purpose in life was to kill. Once his empire had been established and the galaxy was secure, he would seek her out and rid the Force of such a despicable influence.

"Are you finished, My Lord?"

Vader turned to see Mirthrada Nuruodo standing a few meters away in the doorway leading to the pilot's compartment of their shuttle. The Chiss agent was as cold and ruthless looking as ever, and the mission that they had been tasked with seemed to have further steeled his resolve. Vader thought he could sense where the attitude came from. Nuruodo was not accustomed to failure of any sort, and no doubt he was determined to redeem himself for allowing Mace Windu to escape, for his own peace of mind as much as his master's.

"Yes, Commander. I am finished."

Nuruodo gestured respectfully towards the cockpit. "Then it is my duty to inform you that we are approaching our main fleet group. We will be docking with your command ship shortly."

Vader followed Nuruodo into the cockpit and stared out of the transparisteel viewpanels. A large, arrow shaped ship was looming in front of them. Even at a distance of several hundred kilometers, it was apparent that the ship was massive, more than a kilometer and a half in length. The white hull caught the light of Coruscant's distant star, lending an even more imposing appearance to the dagger-shaped vessel. Vader had seen prototype designs for such battleships when he was a general in the Republic Army, but the final product was nothing short of breathtaking.

"The _Imperial_-class Star Destroyer _Vengeance_," Nuruodo informed the Sith Lord. "The first of its kind. The ships you will see adjacent to it are Victory-class, an older model that is slightly smaller, but nearly as potent."

Sure enough, Vader noticed two more vessels come into view, flanking the _Vengeance_. Nuruodo's description was accurate; these were smaller, but the visible weaponry on their surfaces told him that they were more than capable of bringing an entire battle group of standard Republic cruisers to its knees on their own. The Dark Lord felt a smile pull at the corners of his lips. "My Master feels that all this is necessary?"

"Indeed," Nuruodo said. "He has an innate passion for what he calls _superweapons_. He has channeled considerable funds from the Confederate and Republic war effort into development projects to build bigger and more deadly military machines. In fact, the _Vengeance_ is only to be your temporary flagship. I believe he has something much grander in store for you, once the final preparations are completed on his most important project."

Vader suddenly had a strong sense that he knew _exactly_ what his master's most important project was. He rounded on Nuruodo, intending to demand more information, but an incoming transmission from the lead Star Destroyer spared the Chiss from answering.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is the _Vengeance_. Transmit your code and identify your mission."

Nuruodo gave the code. "_Vengeance_, this is shuttle 1486A. Aboard are Lieutenant Commander Mirthrada Nuruodo and Lord Darth Vader, apprentice to Darth Sidious. He is to take command of this vessel for its mission to Chandrila."

There was a pause, then the officer on the other end of the channel spoke again. "Shuttle 1486A, you are granted access to dock in the main landing bay. We will prepare a delegation to honor Lord Vader's arrival."

After the communication ended, Vader looked hard at his subordinate.

"While I appreciate the steps you took to save me from having to introduce myself, would it not have been more prudent to save my identity until we were alone with the ship's commander? A ship the size of the _Vengeance_ cannot possibly be crewed by less than five thousand, and even if most of them are clone soldiers, there is still substantial chance of a leak. My master has not instructed me to reveal myself fully yet. Why announce my arrival so openly?"

Nuruodo turned his head and let a small smile touch his lips. "This battle group is not standard Republic military. Though we will soon immerse ourselves fully in the mainstream, this particular operation is a preemptive strike, and therefore cannot be connected to the Republic until Lord Sidious gives his speech and can justify it. He instructed me to contact an old associate of mine, who would assist us in quickly subduing the opposition."

Vader raised a calculating eyebrow. "Who is this associate?"

Nuruodo turned back to the task of guiding the ship into the main hanger. "You'll see, My Lord."

A few seconds later, a tractor beam caught hold of their ship and guided it the remaining distance to rest in the hangar bay. The containment fields went up once more, and the landing ramp slip down. Vader raised his hood and lead the way out of the cabin and down the ramp, Nuruodo trailing at a respectful distance of a few paces behind.

A procession of armed clone troopers stood in two rows flanking their path. The troopers snapped a crisp salute at Vader, and he acknowledged them with a nod. As he did so, two figures emerged from a turbolift and walked between the lines towards him. One was a human officer, bearing the rank of a Captain. He was not a clone, though his battle-hardened and scarred face proved that he had seen more than his share of combat. But it was the other man who drew Vader's attention. He wore the light gray uniform of a Vice Admiral, and held an undeniable aura that commanded respect. His skin was a deep blue, his hair coal black, and from his sharp face burned two red eyes. He was a Chiss.

Vader was about to turn and ask Nuruodo if this was his brother when the commanding alien stopped three paces away and bowed. "Lord Vader, I am Vice Admiral Thrawn. It is a deep honor to have you aboard my ship."

Vader smiled. "The honor is returned, Admiral. It is a truly impressive vessel."

"Lord Sidious was very generous," Thrawn said, rising out of his bow. "It has enabled me to carry out my missions both elegantly and effectively."

Vader noted how he placed elegant before effective, and remembered that Thrawn held a deep interest in art. "Let us hope that this mission will be equally successful."

"Indeed, My Lord," Thrawn stepped aside and indicated the turbolift. "This way leads to the bridge."

Vader swept towards the turbolift. Thrawn began to follow, but halted briefly as Nuruodo approached him.

There was no outpouring of brotherly affection, or even any words spoken. Nuruodo saluted then extended a hand, which Thrawn took. He placed his free hand on his brother's shoulder, and pressed their foreheads lightly together. Then the two Chiss broke apart and became as rigid and dutiful as before.

Thrawn walked towards Vader and then activated the turbolift. "This way, My Lord."

**

* * *

**

They emerged onto an expansive, open bridge, with a high walkway leading directly to the main viewport. Below, dozens of minor officers worked the computers and controls that directed the ship. Thrawn led the way to the viewport, then stopped, faced Vader, and bowed once more.

"This is where you take command, My Lord. I have been informed of our destination and the coordinates for Chandrila are entered into the navicomputers of all our vessels. We await your directive."

Vader approached the viewport and stared out at the deep blackness of space, pierced by the millions of tiny lights which where the stars. Out of the corners of his vision, he could see the two other Star Destroyers at his command floating silently, pointed prows aimed directly at a world several thousand light years away. Once, as a Jedi, he had detested space travel. Now, as he stood on the bridge of the _Vengeance_ as Dark Lord of the Sith, he found the sight of infinity oddly entrancing. The boundaries of this great void were limitless, but his power, his vision, was strong enough to reach the furthest lengths accessible to a mortal. He thought for the first time he might understand Anakin's love of flight. This … just this … was freedom.

But his mission had a definite goal, and infinity would always be there, whenever he chose to gaze on it again. He focused his eyes straight ahead. "Take us to lightspeed, Admiral."

Thrawn relayed the order. Vader took one more long look at the stars, the entire galaxy spread out before him. Then the transition to hyperspace began, and all those stars, all of infinity condensed to a single point – towards Chandrila.

**

* * *

**

As evening fell, Alderaan was peaceful. The brilliant sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the mountains that ringed the capital city of Alderaan. The landing pad containing the _Tantive IV_, which had been bustling with life a short time ago, was now empty and silent, save only for the hum as fuel passing through the refueling hoses to the ship. People were returning to their homes and gathering on their rooftops and balconies to watch the approaching sunset. There was no hint of the turmoil that the revered Senator Organa had brought with him from Coruscant. For the people of Alderaan, life was as beautiful as ever.

Yet even in such expansive tranquility, there were those who could not indulge in it. At the royal palace, the outcast Senators and their Jedi allies had taken refuge. They had decided to come to Alderaan after all, despite the risks, because of the need for a secure base and communications center from which to spread their message. After a brief conference, the Jedi had headed to the war room, while Padmé Amidala and Bail Organa had retreated to the large, ornate side hall that served as the Organa's private communications center. They were currently trying to raise Mon Mothma, their colleague and the representative from Chandrila.

When the Senator's face appeared in the holprojector, Padmé allowed a smile to form on her face. "Mon. Thank you so much for speaking with me on such short notice."

Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila returned Padmé's smile with a warm one of her own. "Not at all, Padmé. It's so good to see you again. However, before we continue, I need to ask: are the rumors true? Reports have leaked out that you were involved in the chaos at the CMI, and that security forces attempted to arrest you and Senator Organa for action you took against Chancellor Palpatine. Is there any truth at all in these accusations?"

Padmé sighed. "I'm afraid so, Mon. But let me explain …"

Mothma looked shocked. "Padmé! We shouldn't be having this conversation! They could trace the call and find you, wherever you are!"

"Don't worry, Mon," Padmé said. "We're on a secure channel."

"Yes we are," Bail Organa said, stepping up behind Padmé. "Captain Antilles and I made sure of that."

In spite of herself, Mon gave Organa a smile as well. "Bail. It's good to see you're alive."

"I've been through worse," Bail shrugged. "But I won't have been if we don't do something to curb Palpatine's plans."

Mon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

A resolved look appeared on Padmé's face. "Mon, are you aware that the Jedi Temple has been attacked?"

"Yes," Mon nodded, looking confused. "Not that I've heard anything official. The Executive Branch is staying quiet, but the Chancellor promised he would address it at the special Congressional session later."

Padmé and Bail exchanged grim looks, then Padmé turned back to Mothma. "Mon, this is going to sound impossible, but you have to believe us. The Chancellor is behind the attack on the Jedi Temple. He wanted to destroy them before they could become a serious threat to oppose him. It worked. Only a few Jedi are still alive."

Mothma looked as though she had been struck in the face. "What? He can't do that … it's blatantly illegal!"

"He doesn't care," Bail said, "And it won't be illegal for much longer. You said that the Chancellor called for a special session of the Senate? He intends to use it to turn government and public opinion against the Jedi, and to dispel the illusion of democracy he's held over us for so long. He's going to make himself a dictator."

If Mon appeared to have been stricken by Padmé's news, Bail's made her look as though she had been stabbed in the heart. She fell back into an unseen chair. "This can't be," she said quietly. "I can't believe that Palpatine would do this." She looked up at her two fellow Senators. "Can anything be done?"

Padmé took over. "We can't stop the announcement, it's too late for that. But we can try and make sure that as many Senators as possible learn about his duplicity before he gives his speech. If enough of the delegation can be roused, we can start making plans to counter Palpatine's influence before it spreads too far. Can you help us with this? Talk to Giddean, Fang, and Chi for us?"

Mothma shook her head. "No, Padmé. I'm sorry, but I'm not on Coruscant."

Padmé and Bail looked stunned. "What?"

"I left a few hours ago," Mon said apologetically. "There was an emergency at home, and I'm getting ready to land on Chandrila now. I was planning to attend the Senate meeting virtually. I'm so sorry Padmé."

Bail swore and moved out of the camera feed. Padmé was crushed, but she didn't let it show. "Don't worry, Mon. Everything is not lost. You believe us though, don't you?"

Mothma nodded. "Completely. I'll help anyway I can."

"All right, then Bail and I will contact the others. Would it be possible for you to talk to Governor Strickham for us on Chandrila?"

Mon nodded. "I am scheduled to meet with him after I land. I will make it a priority to discuss the situation with him."

"Thank you Mon," Padmé said gratefully. "We are going to need all the help we can get."

Bail moved back into the camera's view. "I understand that you are taking an enormous risk to your homeworld and your career by agreeing to help us, Mon. We cannot thank you enough for chancing such a sacrifice."

Mon smiled. "It is nothing, my friends. I will sacrifice far more in service of freedom for the people of this galaxy. I will come to you as soon as I can."

"Good luck, Mon," Padmé told her friend. "May the Force be with you."

They ended the communication. Padmé immediately started adjusting the channels again. "We should contact the others right away."

Bail brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. "I'm very sorry, Padmé, but would it be possible for you to do that on your own? I promised Breha that I would see her as soon as we arrived on Alderaan, but we've been here two hours and I still haven't gone to her. She's probably worried sick, or else she's ready to kill me. One of the two."

Padmé nodded. "Of course, Bail. Tend to her, and give her my best. I'll be done here shortly."

Bail smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Padmé."

He departed. Padmé was about to turn back to the communications array, but she stopped as a wave of tiredness suddenly swept over her. She had not slept since leaving Coruscant, and it was affecting her work, as much as she hated to admit it. There was still so much to be done, and to do it, she had to be at her peak.

A ray of sun from a high window descending onto her face. It was getting late, and her heart was not in this. She wanted to be able to go out and watch the famous Alderaanian sunset over the ancient Castle Lands. She wanted to go down to the ocean and dive into its sparkling waters. She wanted to find Anakin, who had disappeared almost immediately after they had arrived, and simply have him hold her, in peace.

But she could not give into her overwhelming urges. If there was to be any hope of inhibiting Palpatine's grab for power, then she had to alert as many of her fellow Senators in the Delegation of Two Thousand as possible, and convince them to help form the new Alliance. She had no idea when Palpatine was going to make his move, so she could not afford to take any time for herself. The sunset would come again tomorrow, the ocean would always be there, and her love for Anakin would never fade, but if the shadow of Palpatine's influence spread too far, even those lights would be dimmed, and the light of freedom would be lost – possibly forever.

The ray sun of disappeared from the window. Padmé sighed, and turned back to her work.

**

* * *

**

Anakin Skywalker sat a small table in his secluded quarters, his door locked and the windows shut. Though several times visitors had come to his door and called for him, he had never responded. His entire attention was focused on the collection of parts strewn in front of him: power cells, emitters, energy redoublers, focusing lenses, a chassis, and various luminescent crystals. He was constructing a new lightsaber.

Though it had been three years since he had needed to make one, his fingers moved as deftly and reflexively as though it had been yesterday. He worked with the efficiency of a machine, coupled with the delicate care of an artist, snapping components into place and fine-tuning the intricate connections. It was an ambitious design, one that few masters would dare to attempt, but Anakin had such a gift with technology that he was able to complete the arrangement of parts without a single error. He had added several components that his last lightsaber had not possessed, such as a redoubling circuit that greatly increased the power of the beam while halving the power needed to generate it. It would be truly a magnificent weapon once he had finished, but Anakin was not taking excessive pride in his work. He knew that he still held an attachment to his former weapon, which he had lost on Coruscant – to Vader.

After two hours, all the components were in place. Now he needed to choose a crystal. Anakin scanned his choices. There were green, gold, silver, and even synthetic red and purple. Anakin's eyes lingered on the purple crystal briefly, then he shook his head. No, only Master Windu could pull that off. Anakin might have respected Mace greatly as a warrior, but his taste in lightsaber colors was suspect at best.

Anakin reached for the final crystal in line – blue. He knew that it was old, but he held an unshakeable affinity for that color. It had been the color of every lightsaber he had ever made. Obi-Wan had always preferred it too; all his lightsabers had been blue save for the one he had inherited from Qui-Gon. Even now, after he had abandoned the Jedi for the Sith, his lightsaber was still blue, defying the Sith tradition of red. Why?

Anakin carefully inserted the crystal into its place behind the focusing lens. In all likelihood, it had something to do with the lingering significance of his Jedi heritage, a symbol of what he had once been. Whether this symbol was for good or ill, Anakin couldn't say. But it seemed appropriate that he carry on the legacy.

All that he needed to do now was seal the chassis, then try his new weapon. Anakin was about to do that when there was a knock on his door.

The young Jedi rolled his eyes. He didn't want to see whoever it was, unless it was Padmé, which he knew it wasn't. She was still downstairs, killing herself with more work than any human being should ever subject themselves to. But the knocking didn't stop, so Anakin finally used the Force to unlock the door. "Come in."

Mace Windu stepped into his quarters. "Is this a bad time, Anakin?"

Anakin shrugged. "I've been subject to worse interruptions."

Mace crossed over to Anakin's desk and examined the open chassis of his lightsaber, as well as the components on the desk. "Not purple, eh?"

Anakin winced. "No."

Mace sighed. "Ah, well. Perhaps someday."

Anakin was unable to hide a small grin. He buried it quickly, but Mace saw it.

"Are you feeling better, Anakin?"

The younger Jedi shrugged. "Better than what, Master?"

Mace stared at him pointedly. Anakin looked down and sighed.

"I don't know, Master. I suppose some of my anger has cooled. I apologize for accusing you like that, and for my tone. It was unwarranted. But as for the rest of what I said …"

"You don't regret it, do you?"

Anakin shook his head. "No."

Mace sighed. "Anakin, can you tell me why you believe that the Council betrayed Obi-Wan? I have searched my memory for possible justifications of your charge, but I have not been able to find anything definite. Perhaps your answer will help my understanding."

Anakin looked up. "Several things. First was their shift in attitude towards him. They were always suspicious of me to a certain extent, and I know that Pablo-Jill and others opposed my appointment to the Council. But Obi-Wan was the traditional Jedi, totally devoted to the code. They never had any qualms with him … until he started to support me more openly. His views shifted gradually away from utter conformity to the code to a more expansive, conflicted outlook. There were seeds of something radical, almost heretical … something they always condemned in me and other like me, like Master Qui-Gon. As soon as that happened, they distanced themselves from him, and when he disappeared, they seemed almost relieved that a potentially radical and disruptive voice had been removed from the Council, even before it had truly surfaced."

Mace's face was neutral. "Go on."

"Second was their stance on him after his disappearance. Pablo-Jill, for one, refused to accept any possibility that Obi-Wan might be alive. He opposed looking for Grievous, he opposed sending search parties for Obi-Wan, and he feverishly denied that the Sith had any involvement. When I confronted him, he was brimming with excuses and justifications that I perceived as totally insincere, like he was trying to cover something up."

Still, Mace was silent. Anakin pressed on.

"Finally, there was Obi-Wan himself. When I discovered that I was fighting him, I asked him why: why had he joined the Sith? His answer was that while he was being held captive by Grievous, he had discovered indisputable evidence that the Jedi Council had been in league with the General and the Separatists, and had leaked information that had led to his capture. When he said that, I was looking right at him; right into his eyes. He wasn't lying. I've known him almost my entire life, and I could always tell when he was holding back the truth. He truly believes that he has been betrayed. And I'm sorry about this Master," he said looking up at Mace, "But even now, I still trust Obi-Wan's word … especially over theirs."

Mace held Anakin's stare evenly, scrutinizing the Chosen One in total silence. Finally, he broke the gaze.

"I see the strength of your conviction, Anakin," he said quietly. "It pains me to say that I cannot counter your evidence. It pains me because I know in the depths of my heart that you are wrong. Traditional, inflexible, and even weak as the masters of the Council may have been their final days, I believe that they would not sell out their one of their own, especially for political gain. Perhaps it is folly, but I cannot surrender that belief."

Mace took a step away, gazing out of the high window, where the dying sun was still visible. "I know I cannot sway you, Anakin," he continued, "but I can hope. I can hope that one day, the Force will show you the light, and that you will be able to forgive them."

Anakin was about to make a derisive comment, but Mace looked so solemn that he held himself back. Instead, he turned back to his lightsaber. "Master Windu, where are the others?"

Mace turned back to him. "You don't need to call me Master anymore, Anakin. That title means little now. I think if we are to rebuild the broken bonds of trust, then it is necessary for us to speak on level footing. As equals."

Anakin felt suddenly uncertain, and more than a little uncomfortable. "All right then, Mast … Mace. Where are the others?"

"Your wife and Senator Organa are downstairs, attempting to raise our allies in the Senate. Sabé is asleep; she needs it desperately. Yoda …Yoda is meditating. He is difficult to read, but I believe that he is probing the Force for the meaning of recent events, and asking it for answers."

Anakin frowned. "Does he have to meditate to do that? We ask the Force for answers while conscious almost every day."

Mace stepped back towards Anakin. "Anakin, I am going to tell you something important. It is unfortunate that we use the phrase _asking the Force for answers_ so liberally and inappropriately. It is a great misnomer. The Force itself does not provide answers for us on a routine basis. What it does is help us reach our inner self, our purest state of existence, where we are able to examine every conflict in a much more illuminated state. Answers that we believe come from the Force actually come from deep inside ourselves. At this level, no one person is fundamentally good or evil. Therefore, one can choose their course based solely on their own most elemental instincts and principals. These choices reverberate throughout our entire beings and from there expand outwards to affect the lives of others as well. The effect is what determines if the action is perceived by others as good or evil, but only the person who made the choice at this innermost level can truly comprehend its original purpose."

Anakin was silent, absorbing this information. He wasn't sure if he really understood it.

Mace continued. "The only time when the Force itself will provide an answer is when the being in question is so completely torn, so utterly conflicted, that his innermost soul has been torn into pieces. Then, the Force will manifest itself and bridge the gap between the conflicting sides, aiding the being in choosing the right path. Such a thing happens very rarely, usually once in a lifetime. Even then, it is still reacting to the person. The Force, like the beings who touch it, is not purely good or evil. It can lead you to light, or to darkness. But the true power always lies within ourselves. Whatever we hold to be most important in our lives, the Force will flow through us in such a manner as to help us attain our goal. It unifies us on every level, becoming what we call "The Living Force".

Anakin tried to take in everything Mace was saying, but it washed over him so suddenly that he was not able to grasp every nuance before it slipped away into the corners of his mind. "I'm sorry, Mast … Mace. I don't understand."

Mace did not seem troubled. "But you will not forget it?"

Anakin shook his head. "No."

"Good. Then I have done all I needed to do. When the time comes, you will be the one to call upon it, and decide what it means to you."

He turned to leave. "When you are done here, meet me in the War Room. There are still things that need to be done before Palpatine gives his speech.

Anakin didn't know what to say, but just before the Jedi Master left the room he found his voice. "Mace! Obi-Wan had to have been deeply conflicted before he turned. Does what you said mean that the Force showed him that he was destined to join the Dark Side?"

Mace paused and turned back to Anakin, his expression both grave and thoughtful.

"I don't know, Anakin. It would seem so, though I wouldn't have thought it possible. But there is a chance … a definite chance … that Obi-Wan is still in the process of making that choice. Maybe the Force hasn't yet shown him what his true destiny is to be. But whatever the case, I believe that Obi-Wan still has a very important role to play, for himself and for all of us, before this is over."

With those words, the Jedi Master made his exit.

Anakin remained seated at his desk for a long time, thinking about what Mace had imparted to him. Finally, he turned back to his lightsaber and sealed the chassis. He stood up and pressed the ignition switch, and a meter-long blade of pure blue light shot into existence, pulsing with dangerous power. Anakin took a few complex experimental swings, then stared at his new blade. At its core, the brilliant light formed a series of ethereal shapes, the most prominent was the face of his old master, now Darth Vader. From the depths of the blade, Vader's surreal visage stared at him, demanding the answer to a question that Anakin did not know. When he shut the blade off, Vader's face remained etched in front of his eyes.

The pain was still fresh. Even during the few short minutes that Obi-Wan had been the subject of conversation, Anakin had felt a stabbing pain in his chest, as though a lightsaber had been thrust through his heart. He wanted desperately to be able to shut it out, but he couldn't do it, any more than he could detach himself from the Force. Every time he touched it, Vader was there.

Mace was right; Obi-Wan still had an important role to play, especially for Anakin. Their fates were linked in a way that neither yet truly understood, but no doubt they would discover its meaning in time.

Anakin clipped his new weapon onto his belt and left his quarters. _It's just like old times_, he thought to himself, and to Obi-Wan. _Either one of us will save the other, or we will be each other's death._

It was oddly comforting to know that even in a galaxy where everything was changing, their one bond of brotherhood, for good or ill, had the strength to endure.

**

* * *

**


	36. Dawn of the Empire

**To everyone who has been reading this story and checking for updates, I am very sorry about the delay you have been forced to endure. I am currently embroiled in one of the busiest times of my life, with college applications, schoolwork, and football keeping me from having any semblance of free time. I know that this doesn't make up for the unexplained wait, but hopefully if you're still reading, this post will go at least partway towards redeeming it. Thank you, and enjoy!**

**Darth Vastor

* * *

**

**Chapter 36**

As soon as the shuttle emerged from hyperspace, its diplomatic transponders alerted Chandrila's traffic control and cleared it for landing. "You have permission to land at the southeast wing of the Silver Sea palace. Welcome home, Senator."

Mon Mothma smiled. "Thank you, Control."

The pilot of the shuttle guided the Senator's craft down through the atmosphere, emerging from a low fog over the breathtaking Silver Sea before bringing the ship to rest on the specified platform. Mon disembarked and acknowledged the two rows of palace guards who had clearly been instructed to escort her to Governor Strickham's conference room. It was hardly necessary, but Mon appreciated her old friend's gesture.

The Senator and her assigned guards transversed the ornate corridors of the palace. Mon, who had spent a large portion of her youth here, cast fond glances at some of her favorite rooms and pictures, but did not hold up the procession. There was no time to get nostalgic; Padmé and Bail were depending on her.

They soon arrived at the old throne room, which Strickham had transformed into an expansive conference chamber, replacing the throne with a large wooden table at which the regional representatives would sit. At the moment, the room was empty save for a few aides, and near the head of the table, the Governor himself.

When Strickham saw Mon, his face broke into a wide smile. The enigmatic old man hurried towards her and gave her a warm hug. "Mon! It's wonderful to see you. I was beginning to think Palpatine was going to keep you on Coruscant for the rest of your natural life."

"He came close," Mon laughed. "Any longer, and I would have been your age."

The Governor frowned in mock-outrage. "Now, Senator, none of that. I'm quite certain that I can outlast you in any political debate, regardless of how many gray hairs I have."

Mon eyed Strickham's silver mane fondly. "Yes, I'm quite sure you remain as formidable as you were in your youth. I sincerely hope that you are. We shall need all of your experience and daring to deal with the impeding crisis on Coruscant, and in the rest of this galaxy."

"What are you talking about, Mon?"

"Governor," Mon Mothma said seriously, "Chancellor Palpatine is going to seize absolute power."

Strickham's regal face paled. "Mon, please tell me that this is a very poor joke. What makes you say such a thing?"

Mon proceeded to give her old friend a condensed but extremely comprehensive summary of all that had transpired, from the attack on the Jedi to Padmé and Bail's communication to Palpatine's impending address. By the time she had finished, Strickham was leaning on the table for support.

"Good heavens," he whispered. "This is a disaster the likes of which we have not seen in centuries. Can anything be done?"

"Yes," Mon said determinedly. "We can prepare. It's almost certainly too late to stop Palpatine's address, but we can mobilize to stop the spread of his tyranny. I told you about the organization that Senators Amidala and Organa have planned. Are you willing to ally Chandrila's resources to this cause?"

Strickham didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. The notion of allowing Palpatine more time to consolidate his power through delay on our part is not one that the people of Chandrila or I myself am willing to allow. I will need to consult the representatives on making the alliance official, but I am positive that it will be a unanimous vote. We can begin sending aid immediately."

"Thank you, Governor," Mon said gratefully. "After the arrangements have been made, I will leave and notify Senators Amidala and Organa myself. There is little point in me returning to the Senate."

"I don't know about that," Strickham said. "It would be wise to maintain a political presence before our involvement becomes openly known, and there is no one I trust more than you."

Mon nodded. "Very well, I shall return to the Senate after I meet with the others. Meanwhile, please assemble the regional representatives and prepare the first shipments of supplies. It would be wise for us not wait any longer."

Strickham extended a hand. "Very well. Your ship has been fueled and is ready for departure. Goodbye, Mon. I hope that we shall meet again soon under less pressing circumstances."

Mon shook her friend's outstretched hand. "Goodbye, Governor. Long live the Republic."

"Long live democracy."

Just as their hands were about to break apart, alarms shattered the peaceful stillness of the air. At the exact same time, Governor Strickham's comlick began to beep incessantly. He took it from his belt and held it to his mouth, shouting to make himself heard over the alarms. "Captain, what's going on?"

The captain's panicked voice came over the channel. "Governor, three massive ships have just entered our system. They look like Republic battle cruisers, but their design is far more advanced. They're launching fighters …"

Strickham jumped into action. "Mobilize our garrison. Get every ship you have in defensive formations over the most likely target areas. And try to hail the ships!"

He turned to Mon, his weathered face bewildered. "I don't understand. Could Palpatine have anticipated us?"

Mon was silent. She was aware of a sick feeling clawing its way into her stomach. Their window of opportunity was being ruthlessly shut.

* * *

Chandrila loomed large in the front viewport as the _Vengenace_ emerged from hyperspace. The large Core world was surprisingly underdeveloped, but it was still a powerful force in both regional and galactic politics. Part of this influence likely stemmed from its free-thinking population, which strongly opposed any form of large and invasive government, and was not afraid to express its opinions on the subject. It was for this reason that the fledgling Rebel Alliance was seeking to bring Chandrila into the fold. And it was for that reason that Darth Vader was here now. 

The Sith Lord eyed the unsuspecting planet critically as Vice Admiral Thrawn stepped up next to him. "We have caught them off guard, My Lord."

Sure enough, the ship's instruments showed the panicked response of Chandrila's Navy and security forces in critical detail. So many communications were being jammed across the waves that the _Vengeance_'s frequency processors were in danger of overloading. Scanners showed the preparations being made for hasty launches. It was like watching a hive on insects reacting to the sudden arrival of a hungry predator, one that had no qualms about smashing the entire hive to get a few of the tasty creatures. And with three Star Destroyers and over seven hundred fighters at his command, Vader had no doubts that the predator would be able to pulverize the hive without ever getting stung.

He snapped a command. "Launch the fighters, then have them form up and wait for my command. And get me the Governor on a clear line."

Thrawn relayed the order to launch the fighters while an ensign hurriedly set up a vidscreen. As he did so, Vader pulled his hood up, shading his face, and let the Dark Side form a shadowy aura about him, giving him an undeniably malevolent appearance. A few seconds later, Governor Strickham's fearful and indignant face appeared. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Who are you and what are you doing in my system?"

From under his hood, Vader smiled, an innately terrifying expression that caused Strickham to pull back in a surge of fear. "Questions, Governor. Too many of them. You are disconcerted, but it is not wise for you to provoke me so early. You know full well why I am here."

It was amusing to watch as the Governor's conflicted mental state played out on his face. The man was a savvy and bold politician, not used to backing down from anyone, but Vader had clearly intimidated him from the outset. He tried to mask his turmoil. "Actually, I don't. Bringing armed ships into a system like this is a flagrant violation of the Treaty of …"

Vader cut him off. "Silence, Governor. Your _treaties_ were made under the supervision of the Republic, but you have shown that you have no interest in continuing your allegiance to that government. Therefore, all political justification for such protection is voided."

Strickham looked outraged. "How dare you! Chandrila has been devoted to the true ideals of the Republic since its inception!"

A faint smirk became visible on Vader's shadowed face. "Oh? Tell me then why you are currently conspiring with members of the Rebel Alliance."

There was a gasp from offscreen, and Strickham cast an apprehensive look in the direction of the sound. He turned back to Vader.

"That's ridiculous. Such a group does not exist."

The air around Vader began to distort with his power as his annoyance grew. "Enough, Governor. For a politician, you are a pathetic liar. And tell Senator Mothma to kindly step into the camera's view. It is rude to eavesdrop."

Strickham's face paled and he seemed ready to make another denial, but then Mon Mothma appeared on the vidscreen, her proud gaze marked by only the smallest hint of fear. "It is also rude to show up at someone's home uninvited and treat them like an inferior. We don't even know who you are or what you want from us."

Vader bared his teeth. "My identity is of no importance to you, and indispensable to me. I will reveal it at my own discretion. As for what I want, it is very simple. I want your entire military contingent to stand down and surrender to me and my officers. Once that is done, I will come to your palace so that I can dictate to you the consequences of your treason."

Mon Mothma's eyes widened. "You want us to surrender Chandrila to you?"

"Effectively, yes."

Strickham found his voice. "Never! Chandrila will fight to her last man before I negotiate such terms with you!"

Vader's predatory smile widened. "As you wish."

He stepped out of the camera's feed and beckoned for Thrawn, the major, and Nurruodo to join him. When they had assembled, Vader addressed them shortly.

"Clearly we can subdue this planet in a battle with minimal losses. But we are here to make an example, not touch off a war. Is there an easier way to get them to surrender?"

The major and Nuruodo both were about to voice suggestions, but Thrawn's cool and controlled voice silenced them.

"I have studied Chandrilian art in great detail, My Lord," he said. "It reflects their mindset. Their sculptures are both bold and expansive, much like their political views, and are very direct in their message. One can feel slightly intimidated by their seeming ability to meet any confrontation. But the sculptures, for all their boldness, are ultimately fragile. One must take great care in handling them, for if the right node is touched, the entire intricate piece collapses into a chaotic jumble. This node is often near the center of the open sculptures, easy to discern, but not easy to reach."

Surprisingly, Thrawn's explanation made perfect tactical sense to Vader. He nodded thoughtfully. "So you believe that if we make a direct attack on the nexus of their defenses, the rest of their command structure will break apart and we will be able to force their capitulation?"

Thrawn smiled appreciatively. "Precisely, My Lord."

Vader snapped into command mode. "Admiral, I want you to commence orbital bombardment of the capital city garrison. Direct the _Admonitor_ and the _Ravager_ to coordinate their turbolaser strikes with ours, and direct the fighters to make strafing runs at the guard emplacements deployed over the main cities. Vaporize any resistance before they can leave the atmosphere."

"At once, My Lord."

Vader turned to look out the viewport as the order was relayed and green blasts of supercharged energy began to rain from the Star Destroyers' batteries. They lanced through the atmosphere, tearing through the defensive fighter formations that the Chandrilian Navy had deployed, incinerating the frigates and blockade runners within seconds. The remaining blasts broke through the low lying mist and pounded the garrison base, bringing its reinforced shields crashing down. The next volley struck the undefended structure directly, and the central military installation on Chandrila exploded in a storm of fire.

Vader returned to the camera's view and grinned mockingly at the stunned politicians.

"Perhaps _now_ you would care to negotiate, Governor?"

* * *

Padmé ran her fingers through her long, intricately braided brown hair as she walked through the upper hallways of Alderaan's palace towards her room. She was more than tired: she was exhausted. Even so, she felt a warm and satisfactory sense of accomplishment. She had succeeded in raising Giddean Danu, Fang Zar, and Chi Eekway and informing them of the impending situation. Even better, she had convinced them to take on the work of contacting other members of the Delegation of Two Thousand. She knew that if she herself were to personally contact them, eventually there would be one or two Senators who found her explanation unsatisfactory, and decided to inform the Chancellor. It was much safer this way, and much more secure. 

A sigh escaped Padmé's soft, rose-colored lips as she turned the final corner. Even after everything she had done, the Republic was still falling apart. She had given most of her life to political service, and now all of her hopes and all she had worked was going to fall apart because of the ambitions of one man; one man who three years ago she would have trusted with her life. Now that man was about to make himself a dictator, and to take away the freedoms of all the citizens in the galaxy. Just as he had taken Obi-Wan away. Just as he was trying to take Anakin, her beloved husband, away from her now …

Padmé reached the door to her quarters. They were locked, and she felt another disappointment. She had hoped that Anakin would be waiting for her here, so she could lose herself in his eyes, have him soothe away her troubles with a kiss.

She unlocked the door, and was about to enter when she heard a noise. It sounded like a muffled sob, and it was coming from Sabé's room, directly next to hers. Padmé moved over to her friend's door and softly knocked. There was no response, so Padmé unlocked the door and moved in.

Sabé was sitting on the small couch in the center of the room, a steaming cup in one hand and a tissue in the other. Her deep brown eyes had a reddish tint, and the smooth skin of her cheeks appeared moist. Padmé hurried to her side and sat down, taking the other woman's arm comfortingly. "Sabé, what's wrong?"

Sabé looked up at Padmé, noting her presence for the first time. "Padmé. Oh Padmé, I'm sorry. I just … I just can't bear it."

Padmé grasped her friend's hand. "What can't you bear, Sabé? Tell me."

"It's … I … How could this happen?" Sabé burst out, shaking her head in distress. "Everything was so perfect, so right! I'd waited for thirteen years, and now …"

Padmé understood. She massaged her friend's hand in her own, searching for the right words. "There's still hope, Sabé. There's always hope."

"Where?" Sabé demanded. "Where is there hope? He's joined the Sith!"

Padmé bit her lip anxiously. She could only imagine the agony that Sabé had to be feeling right now. Ever since the Naboo invasion, Sabé had harbored a deep, almost fantastical crush on Obi-Wan Kenobi, the young Jedi who had helped to liberate their planet. Through over a decade, she had held onto those affections, even as others tried to convince her to move on. Padmé herself had remained supportive, though she had privately believed that the chances of Obi-Wan overcoming the Jedi's restrictions and his own ignorance of Sabé's adoration were next to nil. Yet somehow, fate had brought them together again, and when Padmé had finally realized her own feelings for Anakin and consummated them in their marriage, a spark of hope had been born that Sabé could find such happiness as well.

Then just two months ago, while she had been preoccupied with her pregnancy and Anakin's growing turmoil, the miracle had occurred. Sabé and Obi-Wan had discovered their true feelings for each other and expressed them. For a short time, her best friend had gotten to experience the joy she had been dreaming about since she was a teenager. The galaxy must have opened before her eyes, unchecked with possibilities that would lead to a fuller realization of such a love.

And then came Utapau.

Obi-Wan missing. Sabé's despair. Padmé's own frustration as she tried to cope with the loss of her close friend, the agony of her cousin, and the growing anger and desperation brewing inside Anakin. Recently, the source of all their pain had been revealed. But the anguish was only to be redoubled when it was revealed that Obi-Wan had not only been taken by the Sith, he had embraced their ideology with open arms. The irony of it was hard to bear, even for someone like Padmé. For Sabé, who had been affected so much more deeply, it had to be unbearable.

"When I thought he was gone, part of me died," Sabé forced out. "I couldn't believe that just when we'd found each other, he was taken away. It was like some cruel god had played a joke on us, or Fate had suddenly changed its mind, and decided that we didn't deserve to be happy after all. I didn't know what to do. I was lost …"

It broke Padmé's heart to see how Sabé was trying so hard to stay strong, to sit erect and speak calmly. The struggle was clearly draining her, and Padmé put an arm around her shoulders, offering some support. Her friend tensed at the familiar touch, then seemed to admit defeat. She slumped back into Padmé's embrace, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

Somehow, she found the courage to go on. "Then he came back. Even though I knew right away that something had changed in him, in my heart I was rejoicing. He was alive, he had come back … there _had_ to be a chance that he would realize what he had left behind, and come around. But he didn't. He left me again, then went to kill those he believed to be his enemies. He killed the Jedi, Padmé! He … he killed younglings!"

Padmé wanted to reassure her that they didn't know that, he had said his business was with the Jedi Council. But she remembered the look in his eyes when his anger had been aroused, the oppressive power that had rolled off of him … in such a state, Vader was capable of anything, even something as horrific as what Sabé had just stated. She couldn't get the words out.

"Then, there was the Temple," Sabé said softly. "I tried to stop him from attacking Master Windu. He hesitated, and I thought for a moment that he wouldn't, but then he threw that spar … and I saw the look on his face. He thinks I betrayed him, Padmé. He thinks I'm as evil as the Council. He'll never trust me again."

"No, Sabé," Padmé said firmly. "Now you're being irrational. What ever turned him against the Council was something very serious, something indisputable. He loves you. He wouldn't suddenly hate you for trying to save someone's life. He knows that that is the action of a person who is good at heart."

"But Sidious has done something to him!" Sabé cried. "He probably doesn't know what's right or wrong anymore! How can anyone possibly believe that the slaughter of several hundred sentinent beings is right?"

Padmé had no answer. She was having trouble comprehending it. When she had comforted Anakin following his massacre of several dozen Tuskens, she had assured him that his anger had been justified, that it was human to hate those who had murdered his mother. She had been so in love with him that she had forced herself to believe it, unwilling to accept that her Ani was as evil the Trade Federation that had ravaged her homeworld. Sabé was in her position now, but even the depth of her love could not find enough justification to sanction the massacre that her Obi-Wan had conducted.

"Sabé," she said gently. "This is very hard for you, I know. But giving up hope will not bring him back. Obi-Wan would want you to keep fighting."

"But Obi-Wan is gone!" Sabé exclaimed, her voice catching in her throat. "I've done nothing but play every word he said to me and every action he took over and over in my mind. I can't find any trace of him. The bond that I thought we had … it feels like it's been severed." Sabé turned her welling eyes to her friend. "Padmé, I'm in love with a ghost!"

At this, Padmé's grip on Sabé's shoulder tightened. She gently but firmly turned her friend's body so that they were sitting directly facing each other, then Padmé looked into Sabé's desperate eyes.

"Listen to me," she said, conviction ringing in every syllable. "If you remember anything I've told you, remember this: _there is still good in him_."

Sabé looked confused. "What?"

"Obi-Wan is not dead," Padmé said firmly. "He's still in there, smothered under the many layers of the dark being that seized him, Vader. And though Vader has managed to almost completely bury him, he is still fighting, and it shows in his actions."

The smallest glint of hope appeared Sabé's eyes. "How?"

"On the roof of the Jedi Temple," Padmé said. "I shielded Anakin from Vader, and told him that I wasn't going to let him take my husband to Sidious. I had no weapons, no way to back up my declaration. Vader could have killed me in a heartbeat. But he didn't, Sabé. Something held him back. That something was the same thing that caused him to hesitate when you shielded Master Windu. That something was the same thing that promised not to hurt Anakin. That something was Obi-Wan."

Sabé sniffled and reached up to wipe away the traces of her tears. A faint smile broke onto her face. "You … you really believe that?"

Padmé returned the smile. "Believe it? I know it. So don't lose faith, Sabé. Your love sustains Obi-Wan, and as long as it stays constant, he will resist Vader's corruption. He will find a way back."

In response, Sabé threw her arms around her friend's neck and hugged her tightly. Padmé returned the embrace, and the two of them stayed that way for an uncounted duration of time. Finally, Sabé pulled back.

"Thank you, Padmé," she said gratefully. "That … that was just what I needed to hear. You're right, there is still hope. And as long as we both still live …" Sabé took a deep breath, "I will never lose faith again."

"That's the Sabé I know," Padmé grinned. She stood up and offered her hand. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Sabé took her hand and pulled herself up off the couch, but before they could move, Padmé's comlick buzzed. She shot an apologetic look at Sabé and activated the device. "Amidala."

"This is Bail," Senator Organa's voice came over the channel. "It's starting."

* * *

Padmé and Sabé hurried to the main conference room, where most of their friends had already assembled. Masters Windu and Yoda were seated opposite one another at the near end of the table, their grave expressions ominous forecasting the impending doom that was upon them. Sheltay and Captain Antilles were fine-tuning the vidscreen, which was broadcasting a live feed from the Senate Chamber. Bail was seated at the head of the table, conversing in low tones with his wife, Breha, the queen of Alderaan. Then there was Anakin, who was standing in the corner leaning against the wall, toying with his newly constructed lightsaber. He saw Padmé enter, and gave his wife a small smile that only she could discern. Padmé wanted to go to him, but was arrested from doing so by Breha, who hurried over to Padmé and embraced her. "Padmé, my dear friend. It's been too long." 

"That it has," Padmé said, returning the hug. "But I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Mace turned around. "We missed the start. But to summarize, Palpatine has been listing extensive evidence of the Jedi's treachery, and yours, Senator."

Bail's face hardened. "Most of it is outright lies, but he has managed to present some very convincing data. Most of the Senate seems to be with him."

A round of applause from the Senate Chamber interrupted them. Captain Antilles turned up the volume, and then everyone settled down to watch.

"So through the heroic efforts of our troops, and then leadership of a few dedicated loyalists …" Palpatine called, "The Jedi Rebellion has been foiled!"

Sabé tensed, but then nudged Padmé and indicated the Chancellor. "He looks terrible, doesn't he?"

Despite the fact that he was wearing majestic and imposing robes, it was easily apparent that Palpatine had seen better days. His skin was a pale grayish color, and hideous wrinkled marred every aspect of his visage. His eyes had turned a sickly orange, and the way he stood suggested that he had suffered a moderate injury to his left leg. Padmé cast a quick glance back at Anakin, who was watching the Chancellor intently, his expression completely unreadable.

But despite his condition, there was nothing wrong with Palpatine's voice. And that voice appeared to have the Senate entranced. Every Senator she could see was leaning forward, absorbing every word of the Chancellor's hateful sermon.

The great man spoke again. "And the remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!" Another round of applause. "Any collaborators will suffer the same fate!"

Padmé glanced at Bail. He seemed to have been turned to stone.

Palpatine's voice dropped, though it continued to echo throughout the chamber. "My friends, these have been trying times, but we have passed the test. All have made sacrifices, myself not the least among them."

His voice dropped even further. "The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed. But I assure you my resolve has _never … been … stronger_!"

Another round of applause began, the loudest one yet. It took nearly a minute for Mas Ameeda to calm the crowd down enough so that Palpatine could speak again. When he continued, his speech continued to be punctuated by clapping.

"The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated, and their surviving leaders will soon be brought to justice. The Jedi plot to destroy this government has been crushed. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning …"

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. There was no sound.

Palpatine raised his head and brought his voice to its greatest pitch. "In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safer and more secure … society!"

There was brief hush. And then the applause began.

Slowly but surely it gained momentum, rising from the faintest pitch to a crescendo that deafened those thousands of light years away. One by one, Senators began to rise out of their seats, fists and appendages rising above their heads as they cheered. The camera feed began to shake as the applause of a hundred thousand people rocked the very foundations of the storied Senate Chamber. At its center, Palpatine raised his hand to the crowd, embracing the sheer power that was permeating the air. This prompted another, even greater roar, as the Galactic Senate of the Republic dissolved into a screaming, eager mob. Somehow, even over the tumult, Palpatine's voice could still be heard.

"An Empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body and a sovereign ruler chosen for life . . ."

Bail turned away. Mace and Yoda closed their eyes, as if experiencing physical pain. Padmé felt tear escape her eye and run down her cheek.

"An empire ruled by the majority . . . Ruled by a new constitution . . ."

More applause. The feed was starting to distort.

"Ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity which shall last ten thousand years!"

The Senate had gone mad. Some were jumping up and down in sheer insanity, intoxicated by the visions of power that were crashing over them in waves. Near the bottom of the screen, Padmé could see Chi Eekway sitting in numb shock, even as her aides danced around her. Fang Zar was trying desperately to get the delegations to his left and right to sit down and deny the madness that had seized them. Giddean Danu, meanwhile, was staring hard at the new ruler of the galaxy, his face a mask of anguish and hatred.

Palpatine kept his arms up, his eyes closed as he revealed in his newfound power. To his right, Mas Ameeda stood up and keyed his microphone.

"All hail the new Emperor!"

The chant rose throughout the entire Senate Chamber.

"HAIL PALPATINE! HAIL THE EMPEROR!"

Almost everyone in the conference room had turned away now. A few were weeping openly. Padmé wiped away a fresh wave of tears and looked around the room. Only one person was still watching the scene: Anakin.

Her husband was looking right at Palpatine, as expressionless as before. There were no tears, no sign of visible agony. He merely looked at the newly crowned Emperor Palpatine with all the intensity in his ice blue eyes, his gaze boring right across a thousand light years of distance to view the dark man's soul. His fists clenched, then relaxed.

Padmé turned back to the Senate feed, where riot droids were having to subdue some of the more rowdy Senators, while the chants for Palpatine continued to rain down.

"So this is how liberty dies," she said bitterly. "To thunderous applause."

* * *

Darth Vader turned off the vidscreen depicting his master's triumph and returned to his mortified captives. "I believe that my _authorization_ has just come through." 

Mon Mothma appeared ready to faint. Governor Strickham's mouth was opening and closing like some trapped fish, even as he struggled against the clone trooper holding him. Vader brought a comlick up to his mouth. "Admiral, you can send down the riot troops. We don't have to worry about appearances anymore."

Thrawn's amused voice confirmed the order. "At once, My Lord."

As Vader clipped the comlick back onto his belt, Mon Mothma found her voice. "You won't get away with this. The people of this galaxy know better than to embrace tyranny."

Still obscured by his swirling mask of shadows, Vader raised an eyebrow. "Tyranny, Senator? This is freedom. In one day, we have created that which the Jedi and the Senate could not achieve in a millennium. The people of this galaxy will no longer have to be subject to a government that is so weighted down by corruption that it crushes its citizens beneath it. At last, they can embrace a government that will tend to their needs."

"You have created an Empire!" Mon Mothma exploded. "An Empire to serve the whims of one man! That is not freedom!"

"Silence," Vader said coldly. "I am done arguing with you on this matter. Now that there is no longer a dispute about who is in charge of this galaxy, it is time to turn our attention to the more immediately pressing issue: how to deal with your attempted insurrection."

Mon smiled bitterly. "There has been no insurrection, Lord Vader."

"Don't play games with me, Senator," Vader said dangerously. "You have been in direct contact with Senators Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala, rouge politicians who have attempted to undermine the Emperor's rise to power by forming an illegal resistance organization. They tasked you with appealing to the Governor of this system to ally with them. I want to know what their plans are."

Mon kept her face straight. "I have had no contact with either Senator Organa or Senator Amidala."

"Really?" Vader sneered. "Then inform me why your personal ship is fueled and ready for departure, with coordinates programmed for Alderaan?"

Mon started, then realized her mistake and tried to cover it up. Vader smiled.

"You are as bad of a liar as your colleague, Senator. You are making an unsanctioned trip to the Senator's home planet to discuss your next move, and I want to know why."

Mon raised her chin and looked hard at the Sith Lord's shadowy face. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a member of the Republic Senate, and I am going on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan!"

Vader's voice became even more menacing and he pointed an accusatory finger at her face. "You are part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor!" He motioned to his guards. "Take her away!"

The clone troopers roughly seized the Senator and dragged her towards the door. She put up so much resistance that the commander called a halt and drew out a pair of stun cuffs.

Mirthrada Nuruodo, who had been quietly watching the entire confrontation, now approached Vader. "Should I conduct the interrogation, My Lord?"

Vader smiled. "Why do we need to interrogate her?" he said amusedly. "She doesn't _know_ anything."

Nuruodo looked surprised. "My Lord?"

"I probed her mind during our conversation. Clearly, Organa and Amidala were withholding the details of their plan until they could speak to her face to face. I merely wished to ascertain if her intentions were truly traitorous. The stain of fear is unmistakable. They are."

"So what should I do?"

Vader cast an indifferent hand at the struggling Senator, who was resisting being buckled into the stun cuffs. "Process her. Interrogate her if you must, but it will be for show only. She has already served her purpose."

Nuruodo nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

Governor Strickham watched Mon Mothma struggle worriedly. "What are you going to do to her?" he called, to Vader, concern evident in his voice.

Vader regarded the deposed leader analytically. "That is not your concern. You are no longer the leader of this planet."

"It _is_ my concern," Strickham said forcefully. "She's my friend, and my responsibility."

"That responsibility has been relieved," Vader said shortly. "You would be wise to worry about your impending trial."

"Trial? But I have broken no laws! My people will not recognize whatever puppet government you choose to set up!"

"Any government that I set up will not be a puppet government, Strickham. It will be legitimately recognized by both the people of Chandrila and the Empire. I am confident that once they have had their rights explained to them, the majority of your people will embrace the New Order. Those who do not will not be harmed, as long as they do not attempt to incite trouble."

The guards finally managed to get the stun cuffs on Mon. They began to lead her away.

Strickham watched her being taken away with increasing desperation. "You can't do this!" he yelled at Vader.

Vader regarded him with a glare. "I can do whatever I want. There is no one to stop me."

He turned away. As he did so, Strickham moved. The aging governor elbowed his guard in the face, then seized his rifle and smashed him over the head, knocking him unconscious. He rounded on the guards carrying Mon Mothma away and opened fire. The high-powered blasts caught one soldier in the chest, and a second one in the knee. The two remaining guards dropped the Senator and brought up their weapons. Strickham grasped the trigger again and pulled …

Faster than anyone would have believed possible, Vader spun around and made a violent twisting motion with his raised fist. Governor Strickham's head jerked in a one hundred and eighty degree rotation, and there was a sickening crack as the bones in his neck snapped. He instantly collapsed to the floor and lay still.

From the floor, Senator Mon Mothma screamed and tried to scramble up to go to her old friend's aid. She was only able to get to her knees before the butt of a trooper's rifle knocked her back down. The two uninjured guards pulled her up to her feet, restraining the stricken woman.

Dispassionately, Vader walked over to the man who he had just ruthlessly slain and nudged him with his boot. He turned to two guards on the other side of the room. "Dispose of it."

The guards moved quickly over to the dead governor and picked him up like a sack of refuse, carrying him down the hallway and out of sight. Mon Mothma watched in horror as her old friend was carried away. Then she rounded on Vader, struggling furiously. "You _murderer_!"

Vader did not flinch at her accusation. "I was defending my troops, Senator. I notice that you are not condemning your friend for his actions." He turned briefly to Nuruodo. "Summon medical aid. He could lose that leg if it's not treated."

Tears welled in Mon's eyes as she fought uselessly against her captors. "He was trying to save me, and you killed him in cold blood! Who are you to do such a thing?"

Vader looked hard at her. "I am Darth Vader, and I act in the best interest of my Empire. I need no further justification."

Mon struggled even harder against her hold. "You are nothing more than an evil …"

She never finished her sentence. Vader stepped up behind her and struck her on the back of her head with his armored fist. The Senator's head snapped forward violently and then dropped to her breast, and she slumped into the soldiers' arms.

Nuruodo looked up from across the room. "Is she dead, My Lord?"

Vader placed two fingers on the woman's neck. "She's alive," he said acidly. "Barely."

By now, medics had arrived for the soldier with the wounded leg. They loaded him onto a stretcher, then Vader nodded to both them and the guards holding Senator Mothma's inert body. "Take them away."

He walked back to Nuruodo. "I will contact my Master and inform him that our mission here is complete. He will see to it that a proper provincial government is installed. Chandrila will become a strong supporting pillar for the Empire."

Nuruodo nodded. "Very good, Lord Vader."

Just then, a detachment of troopers came through the door, escorting a woman and four young children. The woman, who was obviously very beautiful beneath the veil she wore, was whispering soothing words to her charges, who looked positively terrified. When they saw Vader, a hush fell over them, and they froze, intimidated by the power of the aura that surrounded the Dark Lord of the Sith.

The leader of the troops saluted Vader. "My Lord, we found them in Governor Strickham's personal rooms. They must be his wife and children. Should I take them to the prison camps?"

The children, who ranged in ages from four to twelve, shivered and glanced at the imposing dark man who was to decide their fate. Vader looked hard at them, his face almost invisible behind his shadow mask. They were obviously Strickham's offspring. They were completely ignorant that the man they were appealing to for mercy had just murdered their father. As Vader met the eyes of the youngest, a premonition came over him. Siri trying to protect the younglings, much like Strickham's wife was doing now. The children, just standing there like that, looked almost exactly like the ones he had allowed his troopers to execute at the Jedi Temple. The same trusting expression, the same innocent belief that people were good at heart …

An indescribable force seized Vader's mind violently, and he turned away.

"Let them go."

The captain appeared stunned. "My Lord?"

Vader rounded back on him. "I said, let them go!"

The troops responded, releasing their grip on the mother. The regal woman quickly ushered her children past the Dark Lord towards the exit. As she did so, she looked up at him, the expression unmistakably that of a grateful mother. She held the gaze for only a brief moment, but in that moment Vader found himself turned to stone.

When she had disappeared, Vader found Nuruodo and the troops staring at him. He could not be sure, but on Nuruodo's face he saw an expression that consisted of confusion, surprise, and possibly … admiration?

Vader quickly turned away. "Prepare my shuttle."

As he walked out of the room, he found himself listening to a voice in his head, one that spoke quietly but confidently. _Compassion is the greatest asset of a Jedi …_

Vader ruthlessly buried the voice beneath a wave of pure hatred. _You're not as dead as I thought, Kenobi_, he snarled at his invisible alter ego. _That will change._

* * *

Padmé trudged slowly back up to her quarters, her heart weighing heavily in her chest. She had not felt so hopelessly despondent since she had heard whispers that Anakin had been killed in the Outer Rim. Every day for weeks, she had woken up wondering if it was worth getting out of bed to face a galaxy without her love. Now, she was feeling almost the same thing, wondering if it would be worth getting up to face a galaxy without freedom. 

Well, she was not quite as distressed as that. Unlike death, there was still hope that this could be reversed. She and Bail had worked with other Senators to ensure that they would be able to fight for their freedom should something like this ever occur, and fight they would. Padmé knew that until the moment she had taken her last breath, she would fight to ensure that her and Anakin's child would be able to live one day in the galaxy it deserved, one where freedom was an undeniable right, and peace was as sacred as it had been for thousands of years.

She felt her baby kick, and another wave of determination flooded her. She would succeed, for his sake! Her young son (or daughter, as Anakin believed it would be) would be able to live whatever life he wanted, free from the corrosive influence of Palpatine. She would make sure of it, even if it cost her her life.

She reached her apartment and entered. The door slid shut behind her. It was dark, and Padmé reached for the light switch. It didn't work. The lights stayed off.

Padmé frowned. She had left the droids here, and she knew that Threepio, for one, hated the dark. Surely he would have tried to get Artoo to fix the lights. Maybe they were busy recharging themselves.

"Artoo?" She called. "Threepio?"

No answer. Padmé shivered slightly. There seemed to be a dark taint in this room, something unnatural. It wished her harm. She reached for her blaster on the table. It was gone.

A stab of fear pierced Padmé's heart. Someone had been in her room. They might still be here. She needed to get out – now.

She spun around towards the door – and screamed.

A hidden figure who had been sneaking up behind her lunged at her, seizing her by the throat. Padmé's scream was cut off as a pair of strong hands cut off her air supply. In a surge of strength born of fear, she head butted her opponent in the face and tore free, elbowed her way past the intruder, and raced for the door.

The hands caught her again, and this time a warm, moist rag was pressed to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Padmé held her breath as she struggled against the grip restraining her. The figure hissed in her ear as it tightened its hold, forcing the young Senator towards the wall.

Padmé wriggled furiously, managing to get one hand free. She grabbed at the vibroblade on her belt, switched it on, and stabbed her adversary in the leg.

The intruder gasped in pain, but refused to relinquish its hold on her. Still holding her breath, Padmé stabbed again, feeling the blade sink into her assailant's flesh. In response, the intruder grasped at her neck, feeling for Padmé's throat. Instead, its fingers caught on the chain holding Padmé's japor snippet, ripping it off. The treasured amulet fell to the floor.

Padmé's lungs were now burning from lack of oxygen, and her vision began to swirl. Her assailant took the opportunity to snatch the vibroblade from her hand. Unable to hold her breath any longer, Padmé gasped in a lungful of air through the rag.

At first, the oxygen brought with it renewed strength. But almost as fast, that strength began to fade as whatever drug was in the rag invaded her system. Padmé was conscious of falling to her knees, her legs no longer able to support her wait. There was a dull roaring in her ears, and her vision began to darken. Then she hit the floor.

Her assailant, whoever it was, released his or her grip, and Padmé noticed a shadowy figure standing behind her, reflected in the door just inches away. As her consciousness slipped away, she looked at the japor snippet and focused all of her remaining energy onto one thing.

_Anakin …_

* * *

Anakin was just preparing to ascend the stairs after saying goodnight to Mace and Yoda when a wave of pain hit him. He staggered in shock and terror, the later of which only redoubled when he recognized the source. 

_Anakin …_

Cold fear rushed into Anakin's heart, the likes of which he had only felt once before. _Padmé … _

Something is wrong.

* * *

**A long chapter? Hopefully that's a good thing. R & R, if you have the time.**


	37. To Stand Alone

Yes, it's true. This is no joke. The Shadow of Vader has _finally_ been updated!

Hard to believe, right? With a layoff of over four months, you guys are entitled to your disbelief. I never, ever expected the wait to be so long. There were times when I wondered if I would ever have a chance to come back to this story. Thankfully, I have been granted that opportunity.

All my college applications are now done. There is absolutely no pressure now, because I was accepted to my first choice, Stanford, on December 15. I am now home free to relax and enjoy the second term of my senior year in high school, and of course, finish this story.

That being said, I will still have other commitments and I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to my previous posting rate of more than once a week. If I do, it will surprise even me. Hopefully this will be understandable to you all.

All right, now onto the post. I have more than one update for you now, a little reward for waiting so long. I'll try to get more updates up soon.

Thank you to each and every one of you for your amazing patience, and enjoy the next installment of The Shadow of Vader!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 37**

Anakin ran.

The Chosen One sprinted through the spacious hallways of Alderaan's royal palace like a man possessed. Backed by the Force and the fervor of a desperate man, Anakin made straight for his wife's apartment, the air distorting in his wake. He bolted up the staircase so fast that it took him only three steps to clear the entire ascension. In doing so, he nearly knocked over a stunned Bail Organa, who was walking peacefully with his wife Breha. Bail called after him.

"Anakin, stop! What's wrong?"

Anakin did not answer. He did not even hear the Senator's appeal. He rounded the corner and bounded up another set of stairs, reaching the landing where Padmé's quarters were. The Jedi tore across the final twenty meters of corridor, finally coming to rest just outside the door.

Anakin pounded relentlessly on the metal portal with his mechanical fist. "Padmé! Are you all right?"

There was no answer. The panic that had been building in Anakin's chest ever since he had first heard his wife's call increased exponentially. He knocked even more furiously, denting the durasteel door.

"Padmé, please! Answer me!"

Still no response. Anakin spun towards the door controls, and was confronted by the remote keypad demanding the password. Anakin cursed and tried to bypass the system, but the circuit had a block installed to prevent precisely that. Angrily, Anakin punched in the code for his and Padmé's home apartment, recognizing it as futile even as he did so.

As soon as the panel gave him the ERROR message, Anakin ripped his lightsaber free of his belt, ignited it, and thrust the glowing blue blade into the door lock. The sophisticated security device screeched and buckled, triggering an alarm, but also opening the door. Anakin plunged into the room.

He was immediately plunged into darkness, the only light coming from his still ignited blade. Anakin quickly crossed into the main room, finding it deserted. There was no sign of his wife, or indeed anyone else. He tried the switch, and found that the lights had been disabled. That did not comfort him in the slightest.

Suddenly, he heard a loud noise behind him. Anakin spun around, lightsaber high, and found himself looking into the perpetually startled face of C-3PO.

"Oh my!" the golden droid exclaimed. "Master Anakin, please don't destroy me! I didn't mean to sneak up on you!"

Anakin lowered his blade a few degrees. "Threepio, where's Padmé?"

"Oh, Master Anakin, I don't know!" Threepio wailed. "I don't remember anything! I was preparing Mistress Padmé's dinner when suddenly I blacked out, and when I reactivated again, I was in the bedroom, and the lights were off. Artoo was there as well; he seems to have suffered the same fate …"

The blue-domed astromech emerged from the bedroom, tootling mournfully. He spun his head around, seemingly searching the apartment for Padmé, and when he failed to see her, his beeping became even more distraught. Anakin quickly scanned the entire room for any trace, then turned back to the entrance hallway.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. He was conscious of diving to his knees, subconsciously aware of the scuff marks and other obvious signs of a struggle that he had missed in his rush into the apartment. But they were not what held his attention. That object was a small amulet, lovingly carved out of Tatooine ivory wood, attached to a delicate golden chain. Padmé's japor snippet. The one he had given her as a token of his affections over thirteen years ago. The one possession that she treasured above everything else. Anakin gently picked up the precious amulet in his hands, his heart hammering in his chest as he examined it. The chain had been violently snapped. That left absolutely no doubt. Someone had been in here, and they had attacked _his_ wife. They had taken her …

Threepio was talking again. "Oh, I despise the dark. Artoo, can't you do something about the lights before Miss Padmé returns? I'm quite sure that Master Anakin … Master Anakin!"

But Anakin was gone. The Jedi Knight had bolted from the apartment at a speed that would have shamed a podracer. He sprinted the length of the corridor and jumped down the flight of twenty stairs in a single leap. Then he was off and running again, fresh urgency aiding every step.

He soon found himself on an extravagant balcony overlooking the main hall several stories below. A pair of beautifully designed spiral staircases led down to the main floor, but Anakin had no time for them. He vaulted over the railing and plummeted towards the ground, using the Force to fractionally slow his descent. He landed on both feet and then, ignoring the screams of a few startled palace patrons, dashed through the main door and out into the courtyard.

This was not the route that whoever had seized his wife would have taken, but Anakin knew that without proper gear to scale the walls of the palace, this was the only chance he had of heading them off. He headed immediately for the western gate, the only gate that led almost directly into the lush forest that bordered the capital city on two sides. The kidnapper would had to have taken this gate if he intended, as the Force was telling him, to get off-planet quickly, otherwise they would have had to brave the city streets, where the law-abiding citizens of Alderaan would have been quick to spot him.

Anakin moved rapidly through the ornate pathways lined with beautiful flora from all over Alderaan, disregarding tenderness as he brutally shoved any overhanging branches out of his way. The gardener would be furious, but that was not his concern. His sole intent was to reach Padmé.

Seconds later, he found himself at the gate guardhouse, and knew immediately that he was on the right track. Two guards lay slumped against the wall, their blaster rifles hanging uselessly in their grip. Both were sporting livid bruises near their temples, and lay very still. Anakin could not tell whether or not they were dead. He had no time to examine them, however. The gate was slightly ajar, and Anakin used the Force to shove it all the way open before he covered the twenty meters of open space and entered the forest.

The thick, leafy braches obscured his vision, but Anakin ignored them and plunged straight ahead, following the trail the Force had laid for him. It was impossible to mistake the path; it held a malevolent signature that was strangely familiar to him, as well as lingering traces of pain. Padmé's pain. Anakin disregarded the cuts that he was receiving on his face and arms as he crashed through the foliage, drawing his lightsaber as he went.

Then suddenly he was free, standing in an open clearing: a clearing large enough to hold a mid-sized shuttle. The grass in the clearing was torn up, exposing scars of fresh dirt to the night air. A ship had landed here, but there was no sign of it, or of Padmé …

An ominous call from the Force prompted Anakin to look up. There, silhouetted against the clear Alderaanian night sky, was the outline of a black ship, sleek and deadly, rising higher and higher towards the infinite expanse of stars. The ship grew more indistinct as it drew further away, finally becoming a shining point, both in Anakin's vision and in the Force. He could feel the dark traces that had led him here on that ship, and the unmistakable signature of his beloved wife, even as it grew fainter and fainter, before it finally disappeared entirely.

The ship, the attacker, was gone. And it had taken Padmé with it.

Anakin Skywalker, the strongest Force user and most revered hero in the galaxy, a beacon of hope to billions, fell to his knees in despair.

Night had fallen completely over Alderaan. But it could not compare to the darkness in his soul.

* * *

The despair did not last. It gave way to anger.

Anakin Skywalker rose slowly to his feet, his fingers scraping the earth as he pushed himself resolutely up from his kneeling position. As he raised his head towards the sky, his eyes locked on the place where the shuttle had disappeared, distinctive despite being visually indistinguishable from the surrounding sky. The Chosen One's hands curled slowly into fists. His teeth locked. His eyes became as hard as obsidian chips, unbreakable in their will. He walked backward for a few steps, keeping his unrelenting gaze fixed on that certain spot in the night sky, then he turned and moved quickly across the clearing, back into the woods.

He did not notice anything distinctive about his route, though followed almost the exact same path. The branches automatically buckled or snapped as he brushed past them, an unconscious exertion of the Force. In no time at all, he was out of the forest and heading back through the gate, across the courtyard, and into the palace. He immediately made for the hanger.

Just as he turned the corner and spotted the docking bay, his comlick sounded. Anakin nearly decided to ignore it, but instead he slowed his pace by the smallest fraction and brought the device up to his mouth. "What?"

Mace Windu's voice came over the channel. "Anakin, where are you? Senator Organa just told us that you've been tearing through the palace like a bantha running from a Krayt dragon. What's going on?"

"They took her," Anakin snapped, pain causing his voice to crack slightly. "They took Padmé."

Mace sounded more surprised than he should have been. How could he not have felt the dark presence that had invaded the palace? "Anakin, what …?"

"She's gone," Anakin said viciously, heat expanding in his chest as he spoke the words. "Her quarters have been ransacked, there are signs of struggle, and I can feel her pain through the Force. Someone kidnapped her, and they escaped."

Bail Organa's voice broke in on a three-way channel. "Anakin, I'm in her quarters now. You're right; someone forcibly took her. Do you have any ideas about who it could be?"

There was hard, bitter edge to Anakin's voice. "That's what I'm going to find out."

Mace spoke again. "Anakin, do not rush into this. I understand that you are distressed, but you have no idea where she's been taken. There is a strong possibility that this is a trap set for you by Palpatine to draw you into a disadvantageous environment. We have to make a plan before you attempt to stage a rescue."

A smirk passed over Anakin's face. "You do that, Mace. And while you're at it, have some tea and biscuits. Talk things over in a nice communal setting. I, in the meantime, am going to get my wife back. And none of you are going to stop me."

Mace's voice dropped, and there was a hint of a plea in his voice. "No, Anakin, I can't stop you. But you can. Please try to consider the consequences of this action before you are placed in a situation where you cannot turn back. If you don't, you could drive yourself directly into Sidious or Vader's hands and you, as well as Padmé, will be lost."

Mace's word reached Anakin's rational mind. But they were too little, too late, to sway him. He brought the comlick up one final time. "I understand, Master Windu," he said calmly. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take."

He had reached the main hanger. Anakin shut off his comlick and headed right for the nearest ship, a sleek silver craft that bore a resemblance to the Nubian vessels favored by Padmé, but was clearly sturdier and also possessed weapon systems. Anakin brushed past a startled mechanic and raced up the entrance ramp, sealing it behind him.

As soon as he reached the cockpit, Anakin immediately began to flip switches, bringing the drive systems roaring to life. The craft began to rise into the air and drifted towards the forcefield blocking the exit to the hanger.

An alarmed voice came over the comm channel. "This is Alderaan Central Control. You are not authorized for liftoff. Power down now."

Anakin ignored the voice and continued to fly toward the force field. The comm officer's voice became even more panicked. "Sir, you're not authorized! Stand down or we will have to take you into custody!"

Anakin punched the transmit button. "Listen to me, little man," he said menacingly. "I am getting out of this hanger, regardless of authorization. You have five seconds to lower this force field, or I will blow you and all of your friends into subatomic particles. Five … four … three …"

The comm officer shrilled a command. "Lower that force field. Now!"

The force field dropped out of existence. Without further comment, Anakin blasted out of the hanger at the maximum atmospheric speed, rising high and fast. In less than half a minute he had cleared the atmosphere and was cruising into outer space.

As soon as he had cleared the planet's gravity well, Anakin closed his eyes and allowed the Force to guide him as he entered coordinates into the navicomputer. Then he pulled the lever, and leaned back in his chair as the stars elongated and he shot into hyperspace, away from Alderaan, and towards Padmé.

* * *

Darth Vader knelt before the holoprojector, his head bowed. "Chandrila has been completely subdued, My Lord. Our preemptive strike was a complete success."

The new Emperor of the galaxy smiled. "Excellent, Lord Vader, excellent. You took care of the authorities figures?"

Vader smiled slightly. "Governor Strickham is dead. Mon Mothma will be lucky to survive a week. I have just received word that the regional representatives are fully willing to cooperate with our authority. I believe it is safe to say that Chandrila has become a strong supporter of the New Order."

Palpatine threw back his head and laughed. "Even more excellent, Lord Vader. I will dispatch the new governor to rule the system immediately. Such an example will surely dissuade other worlds from joining this pathetic new Alliance."

Vader's smile widened. "I am glad, My Lord. Allow me to offer my congratulations on your new office. It was well obtained."

Mirth showed in Palpatine's orange eyes. "Yes, it was, wasn't it? But you deserve credit for your own actions, which helped to make it possible. The role you performed was instrumental. Rise, and be honored."

Vader rose, standing straight up so that he was now taller than his master. The Emperor's image suddenly distorted, and then his voice fell to a savage hiss. "Now, to other matters. Has Ventress fulfilled her mission?"

Vader shook his head. "I do not know, My Lord. When I dispatched her, I instructed her to call once she had apprehended Senator Amidala and brought her to a secure location. I believed that otherwise there was a chance that our communication could be traced."

"I see." Sidious closed his eyes, probing the currents of the Dark Side. "I can feel her. She is angry, but she is also elated. She has succeeded in capturing Padmé. No doubt that you will be receiving that conformation from her soon."

Vader kept his face neutral. "What of Anakin?"

Sidious closed his eyes again. "He is in pursuit. Anger burns within him like a fiery torch, a beacon of power. However, if Ventress did as I expect, and plotted multiple hyperspace jumps, he should not be able to find her. We now have our window of opportunity."

Vader did not voice his opinion. He felt that his Master was making a very critical mistake; underestimating the depth of Anakin's love for Padmé. Vader knew the extent of Anakin's determination: if the Chosen One wanted to find his wife, he was going to find her. It was inevitable. When he did, there would be a fight, and Ventress would be slain. Vader's lips twitched in a smirk. Not that that was an undesirable ending, but it would make the window Sidious was mentioning extremely tight. Vader himself was inclined to allow Anakin to massacre Ventress, and then capitalize on the predictable surge of rage that would be coursing through his veins following the encounter. Then Anakin could be turned, and Padmé would not have to suffer harm, which would only prove detrimental to their cause. Of course, his Master would not agree with such an assessment, so Vader did not express it.

Instead, he inclined his head. "What do you want me to do, My Master?"

"Wait for Ventress to contact you. When she does, get a trace and establish Anakin's most likely course of pursuit. Then choose the most favorable location possible to intercept him and bring him in. Do not hesitate to provoke him; I have confidence that you will be able to weather the storm of his anger. Once you have him ensnared …"

Sidious broke off. His eyes narrowed in surprise and anger as he looked at his communications console, which was beeping for attention. "After I told them explicitly not to disturb me …"

He turned back to his apprentice. "Forgive me, Lord Vader, but I must be interrupted. I am going to disable your channel for the duration of this communication. It would be best if you would be able to see it, but not be seen in turn."

Vader bowed. "Of course, Master."

The Emperor adjusted something on his desk, then opened another channel. "What is it?" he demanded acidly.

Darth Vader was taken aback. Standing in the new hologram, and looking as angry as it was possible for such a spineless creature to look, was Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation and ex-leader of the now defunct Separatist cause.

"Lord Sidious!" Gunray exploded, his orange eyes flickering in both fear and anger. "What is going on? I have just learned that you have seized complete control of the Republic government, and have declared the war to be over!"

Sidious's voice carried an amused, but deadly edge. "That is correct, Viceroy. I am pleased to see that you still have the foresight to keep up on galactic current affairs."

"How is this possible?" Gunray blustered. "We have not surrendered. Terms cannot be dictated unless both parties are present for the negotiations!"

Sidious smiled unpleasantly. "Perhaps it failed to occur to you that as Emperor of this galaxy, Viceroy, I represent both parties in this conflict. I have decided that the Separatists have neither the military strength nor the political clout to continue the war, and therefore you have been made irrelevant."

The look on Gunray's face was priceless. He was caught between furious rage at being so disregarded, and his absolute terror of Lord Sidious. As a result his reptilian face quivered while the corners of his mouth twitched incessantly, giving him the appearance of a lizard-like grub. Vader smirked. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

Finally, Gunray found his voice, and adopted a wheedling tone. "Please, Lord Sidious. We have served you, and well, for almost two decades. We have helped you become the absolute ruler of this galaxy. Are we not to receive some small measure of compensation?"

Vader reached out to probe his master's mind, and found it was very much in accordance with his own. The Emperor wanted nothing more than for Gunray to dissolve into a puddle of gray slime and then be sucked down into the sewers, out of his sight forever. For a second, it appeared that he was going to voice those exact sentiments to Gunray. But then he smiled, a seemingly benevolent expression that carried a much more sinister intent.

"Of course, my friend," he said cajolingly. "Your long and devoted service has not gone unnoticed. I will arrange for your compensation immediately. Remain on Mustafar for now, and then, when my new apprentice Darth Vader arrives he will … take care of you."

A hint of greed shone in the Nemoidian's eye. "Of course, Lord Sidious. We shall await Lord Vader's arrival with great anticipation."

"Yes," Sidious said slowly. "It will be a handsome reward, far better than you deserve. Once you have it, you will be left in peace."

Gunray bowed, and the hologram vanished.

Sidious turned back to Vader, his expression one of supreme disgust. "Lord Vader, I don't think I even have to tell you what needs to be done."

Vader grinned evilly. "Of course not, My Master."

"Good," Sidious intoned. "Then you are to depart for Mustafar immediately. I want every single one of those parasites expunged and erased from existence. Justice cannot exist until they are finished."

"At once, My Master. But what of Anakin?"

Sidious considered this for a moment. "He will not find Ventress if all the appropriate precautions are taken. You will have time to accomplish both tasks. All the same, I recommend that you make haste."

Vader bowed deeply. "I will be swift and ruthless, Master."

Sidious laughed. "Of that, Lord Vader, I have no doubt."

The transmission ended. Vader quickly straightened and swept out of his personal chambers, back to the bridge.

Thrawn, Nuruodo, and the major were conferring there when Vader emerged on the deck. Everyone, down to the lowest comm officer, snapped to attention. Vader approached the Admiral. "There's been a change of plans. Set a course for Mustafar."

Thrawn bowed. "At once, My Lord."

* * *

"It is as we feared," Mace announced, his eyes closed as he rested his elbows on the conference table. "Palpatine has fooled us once again, and taken action while we distracted by a greater evil. Once more, we have been outmaneuvered."

Yoda set pensively next to Mace, tapping the floor infrequently with his cane. "Cast into the fire, young Skywalker has been. Only through strength of will, extract himself, he can."

Bail Organa, the third occupant of the room, was unimpressed by the Jedi's cryptic speech. "Look, that's all very well, but didn't Anakin have the right idea? He may have rushed into it, but the fact is that he's out there trying to rescue Padmé, and we're sitting here doing nothing. We have to come up with some kind of counter to Palpatine's strategy, or he'll continue to position us for destruction."

Yoda turned his green eyes onto Bail. "Heard from the other Senators, have you?"

Bail shook his head dejectedly. "No. I know that Padmé got through, so they're probably just too intimidated to attempt to contact us right now, or else Palpatine's spies are watching them. Mon, on the other hand … she said she would be on her way by now, but she isn't. Chandrila has gone completely dark. Something's happened to her; I know it."

Mace could sense Bail's intentions. "Senator, no. We can't afford to send an ambassador. If something has indeed happened on Chandrila, we will be compromised."

Bail gnashed his teeth in frustration. "I know. I just can't accept the idea of abandoning Mon to the Emperor. She has been a loyal friend and devoted servant of democracy for years."

The lines at the corners of Mace's eyes deepened. "I understand, Senator. But we cannot be swept onto a path that leads to such a short-sided goal. We can do nothing for Senator Mothma or Chandrila with our current resources. Likewise, we can do nothing for Padmé. That is up to Anakin, and his trust in the Force."

Bail's face became determined. "There are other ways to fight. No matter how bleak it seems, we still have options on the political scene. I can organize …"

Yoda cut him off, respectfully but firmly. "Your plans, hasten to implement them, Senator," he said gravely. "But finished on the political front, the Jedi are. Too few, we are, to make a mark there. Come time for direct action, it has."

Bail frowned. "Direct action? You mean military?"

"No," Yoda intoned. "Direct action to strike at the heart of this darkness."

He surveyed his two companions with a solemn stare. "Confront the Emperor, I will."

Mace closed his eyes once more. It appeared as though he had expected this. Bail, on the other hand, was completely taken aback.

"Confront the Emperor? Master Yoda, with all due respect, he is the most powerful man in the galaxy right now! He can call upon the full might of the military to stop you, not to mention whatever abilities he can draw upon as a Sith Lord. To move against him now, after he has just consolidated his power, would be suicidal!"

Yoda fixed Bail with his penetrating gaze. "Trust in the Force, I do, Senator. The right course of action, this is."

Mace kept his eyes closed and allowed the Force to give him a sense of his old friend's feelings. He found acceptance, resolution, and a deep abiding determination to follow the course that had been laid for him. Yoda had given this a great deal of thought, and now nothing would sway him.

He could feel Yoda reaching back to read him as well. The great Jedi Master gently reached into the center of Mace's consciousness, exposing the innermost layers of reasoning at work. As he did so, they became ordered and revealed themselves to Mace, allowing him to view a small piece of his own destiny. A strong sense of acceptance grew in Mace's heart. Yoda was right: this was the correct course of action.

He opened his eyes and addressed Bail. "This has to be done, Senator. The Force is taking us towards a direct confrontation with the Emperor, and to deny its will would be far more detrimental than to embrace it."

Frustration grew on Bail's face. "But Master Yoda is one our strongest assets … on of our _only_ assets at the moment. If you fail, then our cause will be even more severely crippled. At least wait until we have strengthened ourselves a little more, so that we can endure should you … should you fall."

Yoda turned to Mace. The look in those green eyes was one that Mace knew well, and one that always affected him profoundly. Yoda had withdrawn deeply into the Force, so deep that he was floating above the plane of conscious existence. Mace was his only link to the physical world. He needed to be the one to explain this to Senator Organa, because Bail, for all his brilliance, was tied to the mundane, and could not see the intricate mechanisms of the Force, which created the clear path that Yoda was on now.

"I have the ability to see shatterpoints," he finally told Bail. "I can sense places of weakness in others, place when which struck, will destroy the entire structure. The storm that Palpatine has created is very, very strong, and it is constantly shifting. Its shatterpoints were previously invisible to me, but through experience I have learned to see them. But because the storm is so volatile, the shatterpoints are changing, and it is impossible to tell how long they will stay accessible. Right now, Palpatine is the shatterpoint. In a short time, the storm he has conjured will grow and change, and he might be the shatterpoint no longer. To break this menace, we must strike fast, and we must strike with all of our collective strength. That is why Yoda must go now." Mace turned towards the ancient Master with resolute conviction. "And that is why I am going with him."

Bail reeled backwards as though he had been struck. "_Both_ of you? Master Windu, please reconsider this! If we lose the only two known surviving Jedi Masters in the galaxy on this mission, our death warrant is all but signed! Any resistance we can mount against the Empire will be futile!"

Mace shook his head. "You underestimate your own strength, Senator. Others will follow you. The cause of freedom is not one that will easily thrown aside. And I think you underestimate us as well." A small smile appeared on his lips. "Master Yoda and I have no intentions of dying. It is not our destiny to become one with the Force. Not until our duty is done."

Defeat was beginning to show on Bail's face, but he still had one last chip to play. "Suppose you succeed. Suppose that you managed to reach Palpatine, and that you manage to kill him. The storm, as you call it, will still not have broken. What about Vader?"

A shadow passed over Mace's face. He had not forgotten. All the same, he could not see past the end of the clear path he was set to follow now. Only Yoda had that power. He turned to the revered Jedi Master, who closed his eyes and immersed even further in the Force.

"Uncertain, the future is," he said, sounding as though he were speaking from far away. "But visible, traces of Vader are. Mingled with Anakin's destiny, they are. The Force is guiding them towards each other. To what purpose, hidden from me, that is." Yoda opened his eyes and looked directly at Mace. "But clear, one thing is. Defeat Vader, only Anakin can."

There was a long silence at the table. Finally, Bail stood up.

"I see you are resolute," he said. "In that case, I will do whatever I can to help. An armed shuttle will be prepared for your departure, and I can give you diplomatic transponder codes that will automatically allow you to bypass Coruscant's defenses. If you need extraction, a team will be standing by. In the meantime, I will remain here, and do my best to strengthen the cause of the Alliance, at least until Padmé comes back."

Mace stood up as well. "Thank you, Senator. Be on your guard, for with Padmé out of the way you are certain to be the chief target for the Empire's wrath. Inform the others of our intentions, will you?"

Bail nodded. "I will."

Yoda hopped down from his chair and led the way out of the room, moving surprisingly fast despite his cane. "Come then," he said. "No further time to lose, there is."

* * *

Acute pain was the first thing she felt once she had regained her senses. Her entire body seemed to be bruised, scraped, cut, burned … she couldn't even describe all of the sensations. She was lying on the ground, and the cold, hard stone was pressing painfully against her. She rolled over, and immediately felt another explosion of pain rack her. A sound escaped her lips, somewhere between a moan and a scream, and she screwed up her face in attempt to stifle it. Once she had mastered herself, she lay motionless, forcing down the agonizing sensations through the strength of her will. She had no idea how long it took, but ever so slowly the pain faded to a point where it was possible for her to endure being conscious.

Then, Padmé Amidala opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the ceiling. It was dark gray stone, almost black, and there was a slimy-looking green moss crawling across the expanse she could see. A single harsh light was positioned at the relative center, and its unfiltered rays blasted her eyes. Padmé blinked furiously, trying to fight of the temporary blindness it induced.

"Ah, awake at last."

Padmé jerked her head towards the voice, and was rewarded with a stabbing pain in the neck. She quickly brought her hand up to dampen the impulse, ignoring the further stress that placed on her shoulder. Dispensing with the final traces of blindness as her eyes became acclimated to the light, Padmé focused in on the person who had materialized from the shadows.

It was a woman, that much she could discern quickly. She was humanoid, although likely not human, as her abnormally pale skin, flattened noise, and pale eyes attested. Black stripes were tattooed on the sides of her head, carrying some strange significance. She was sitting almost casually on a short stone pillar, her posture suggesting total ease and confidence. Her long fingered hands were toying with what appeared to be a lightsaber, one with a curved hilt. She the way she played with it gave Padmé no doubt that she knew how to handle it with deadly precision. Padmé could tell that this woman was an enemy, and a dangerous one too.

There were also two large objects laying at the woman's feet, heaving in a way that appeared to be breathing. Whatever they were, they were alive.

The mystery woman looked at her in a way that echoed with contempt and pity. "Can't talk, Senator? Take your time. Neither of us is going anywhere."

She managed to find her voice. It rasped in her dry throat, and sounded strange to her own ears. "Who are … you?"

The woman looked angry. "What? He didn't tell you? I'm insulted. Surely Skywalker can't have forgotten our last meeting. Maybe he just wanted to spare your delicate mind the details. Or maybe his own arrogance has led him into denial."

"What?"

The woman sighed. "Let's get the introductions out of the way then. I am Asajj Ventress, Sith disciple and special protégé of the late Count Dooku. You are Padmé Amidala, Galactic Senator from Naboo and secret lover of Anakin Skywalker. You are also my prisoner. Now perhaps we can speak more openly."

Padmé absorbed what she had just heard. She had known of Asajj Ventress before; war reports had detailed a dark woman who wielded dual lightsabers and had battled the Jedi furiously on the Outer Rim, showing fanatical support for the Separatist cause. She had heard that Anakin had dueled with her at least twice, the second time receiving the long scar over his eye. When she had asked him about Ventress, Anakin's eyes had hardened into icy chips, and he had spoken tersely with underlying acid in his voice, suggesting a deeply abiding resentment, possibly even hatred, for the Sith affiliate. It had been rumored that Ventress was dead following her defeat at Anakin's hands, but obviously such rumors were untrue.

Padmé coughed, and was conscious of blood in her mouth. She swallowed, then tried to bring herself back under control. Ventress watched her with a cruel glint in her eye. "Careful, Senator. You're not in the best condition after our little incident. As much as I would like to see you die, it's not a luxury I can afford at the moment."

"An incident?" Padmé managed to ask. "What have you done to me?"

Ventress tossed her head slightly. "You started to wake up in the cargo hold of my ship. I hadn't anticipated that the drug would wear off so quickly, so I didn't have any more. When I got down there, you were writhing and screaming, calling out for Anakin. You had interrupted my meditation, and you wouldn't stop, so I vented a small portion of my anger by beating you back into unconsciousness. I may have carried on a little bit after you passed out as well. For one, I did not appreciate being stabbed with a vibroblade, and also, it's been far too long since I got to exact such delicious pain on a sentient being."

A combination of anger and revulsion rose in Padmé's heart. This creature was speaking of causing pain with enjoyment, with _pleasure_. How misguided would someone have to be to entertain such notions? No wonder Anakin had held such animosity for her … Anakin!

Padmé clutched suddenly at her breast, feeling desperately for her japor snippet. It was gone. She remembered in a flash that it had been torn from her neck just before she had been subdued.

Despair filled her. During the three years of her marriage to Anakin she had never let the beloved token out of her sight. It had been a constant symbol of protection, comfort, and love … and now it was gone. Suddenly, she felt even more vulnerable than before.

Ventress saw the agony cross Padmé's face. "Lose something, Senator? Don't worry; I'm sure Anakin will be able to comfort you … if he ever manages to find you, which I doubt."

Padmé let her hand fall. She fought back the tears that had threatened to fall, channeling what would have been a futile exertion of energy into something more effective. She might have lost the japor snippet, but the concepts it stood for were still alive and strong within her. She would not be defeated! While she still had the strength of love within her, she would fight!

Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up off the floor into a roughly sitting position. The exertion drained her, but it helped her feel more confident, more in control. She faced Ventress undaunted.

"Where am I?" She asked. "Why am I here?"

Ventress chuckled. "You are in an ancient Temple built by a powerful race on a world whose name you would not know. That should suffice as your first answer. As for the second … you are here because someone very powerful has decided that you are interfering in his plans, and wants you removed so that he can implement them."

Padmé forced a smirk onto her face. "Despite your attempt to disorient me with your cryptic answers, I believe I can piece together this puzzle. I am here on Lord Sidious's orders, am I not?"

Ventress shrugged. "Yes. Indirectly."

Padmé frowned. "Indirectly?"

"Yes," Ventress sighed in disgust. "Unfortunately, this inquiry is now entering an area I am not at liberty to discuss. You are advised to turn your attentions from it, before I focus my frustration into further marring your features."

Padmé narrowed her eyes. There was something important hidden behind Ventress's words, but she would not press now. "All right then. What do you want with me?"

"Me, Senator? I want nothing at all with you, save my own sport. My instructions are only to keep you hidden, prevent you from escaping, and to deter anyone from attempting to rescue you. An easy task, since no one knows where you are. Beyond that, I am essentially unbound by any constraints except for my own will."

Padmé looked at the Sith woman coldly. "You really believe that Anakin won't be able to find me? He is far more powerful in the Force than someone like you could comprehend. You can do nothing to weaken our bond."

Anger flashed over Ventress's face, before giving way to a confident sneer. "Oh, we are quite safe from your noble Jedi hero here, Senator. I have taken precautions. Look over there."

Padmé gazed into the shadowy corner of the room. Once her eyes adjusted, she was able to make out a short, gnarly tree, which appeared to be freshly planted in the exposed earth. Clinging to the tree was a small, furry, lizard-like creature, munching quite peacefully on the foliage. It was about half a meter long, and looked completely unthreatening. Padmé raised her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"That, Senator," Ventress said patronizingly, "is a ysalamir. A small lizard creature native to the planet Myrkr. They are, as you have probably noticed, vegetarians, and pose no threat to a human being. They would be altogether unremarkable if not for the fact that they possess a unique and very special ability: they can push back the Force."

Padmé blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Yes. They create a bubble in which the Force simply does not exist. I believe that it is a defense mechanism, evolved to combat the abilities of Force-sensitive predators." Ventress stroked one of the lumps gently. "What it means that the powers of any Jedi or Sith who comes within its sphere of influence are completely nullified."

Padmé looked at Ventress in bewilderment. "Why do you need them? I'm not Force-sensitive."

Ventress shook her head. "No, Senator, you are not. But Skywalker is. As lovers, the two of you share a bond, as you yourself duly noted. Under normal circumstances, Skywalker could follow that bond right to you. But with the ysalamiri here," Ventress smiled at the nearest of the lizards, "His means of feeling that bond through the Force have been cut off. To him, you will appear to have vanished from the galaxy."

Padmé felt a heavy weight descend in her chest. She had not expected this. As long as Anakin knew that she was alive, he would remain focused, driven, and in control. If he could not sense her, he might assume her to be dead or severely crippled. In that case, he was capable of anything. Consumed by an irrational rage, he might embark on a massacre that would make his actions against the Tuskens seem comparatively pure.

There had to be a way to reach him. To make him feel her love, to keep him sane …

She stared hard at the maliciously grinning Ventress. "You're Force-sensitive as well, right? So these things affect you too."

Ventress nodded in grudging admittance. "Yes, they do. But since their reach is only this chamber, I am unaffected at all other times. And I don't really need to be at full strength with you, do I? You can barely stand. You have no weapons. You are altogether helpless."

In response, Padmé mumbled something that Ventress could not hear. The Sith woman leaned her head forward and positioned her ear towards Padmé. "What's that, Senator? Speak up. If you're cursing me under your breath, I'd like to hear it so that I can decide on an appropriate level on punishment."

Padmé muttered the phrase again, even lower than before. Looking thoroughly exasperated, Ventress got up from her pillar and walked towards Padmé, bending down to catch the sound. "Senator, if you mumble again, you are going to find yourself incapable of any speech at all."

In response, Padmé snapped her leg up and kicked Ventress in the face with all the force she could muster. The Sith woman buckled over backwards, stunned from the power of the blow. Padmé kicked at her tormentor again, nailing her in the side.

Suddenly, there was a crushing pain on her ankle. Padmé screamed as what felt like knives buried themselves in her lower right leg, sinking in to the bone. She raised her head to see a large, dog-like beast glaring at her with angry eyes as it kept its mouth fastened around her ankle. Another one of the beasts could be seen behind it, preparing to pounce on her. Padmé tried to pull her bleeding leg free, and the angry canine tightened its grip.

"Enough!"

The beast released her and trotted back to the pillar. Its partner followed. Ventress rose up from the floor, holding a hand to her nose, underneath which a trail of blood could be seen, sliding off her chin and down her neck. Ventress pulled her hand away and looked at Padmé with deep hatred.

Padmé smiled innocently, even as she clutched her ankle and fought back the lingering pain of the bite. "I'm sorry. Did this altogether helpless Senator have a little more fight in her than you expected?"

Ventress clenched her teeth in suppressed rage. "You just made a serious mistake, Senator," she said acidly. "You are going to pay dearly for it. I believe you have met Kyraska?"

The creature that had bitten Padmé's leg growled and glared at her. Ventress stroked its head. "Kyraska is a vornskr, force-sensitive predators hailing from the same world as the ysalamiri. I have four, but she is my best. She and one of her friends are going to be watching over you, to make sure you behave yourself. If you don't, they will attack you, and might go so far as to take off a few fingers. Or your entire hand, if they're feeling particularly vindictive. Trust me, you won't be getting any further ideas."

Padmé forced herself back up to a sitting position, taking care with her wounded ankle. "So this is what you're going to do to me," she asked bitterly. "Keep me locked down with your little pets while you torment me and wait for someone to show up? It won't work, Ventress. Your twisted schemes are nothing more than fantasies supplied by your sick imagination. You are pathetic."

Ventress's hand shot out. In a lightning-quick move, she struck Padmé across the face. Padmé did not flinch, even as she felt the skin on her cheek break and a trail of blood run from the wound. She glared up at Ventress. "Anakin will find you. Despite all your precautions, he will find you. And when he does, all the power in the galaxy will not be enough to save you."

Ventress kicked her hard in the stomach. Padmé doubled over, and Ventress followed with another blow to the back of the neck. In wild abandon, the enraged Sith woman fell upon her prisoner with a hail of blows, striking her with fist and booted foot. Padmé curled into a ball, trying desperately to protect not only herself, but something far more precious.

After nearly two minutes, Ventress ceased her attack. She looked down at the bruised, bleeding woman at her feet. Padmé was barely conscious, but she was still curled up around herself, willing herself to continued resistance.

"What am I going to do with you?" Ventress hissed, nudging her prisoner with the toe of her sharp boot. "How am I going to resist the urge to kill you? Think about the pain it would cause those you love. The pain it would cause Anakin. The pain it would cause _him_. I am so tempted … and yet I can do nothing. Why don't you just die yourself, and save me the trouble? What do you have to live for?"

Padmé coughed, clearing her throat of dirt and blood. She curled even tighter, and Ventress continued. "What _will_ you have to live for, once your dear Anakin has either joined the Dark Side, or succumbed to death? It is inevitable, you know, one of those two ends. So why live?"

Unconciously, Padmé's hand drifted towards her abdomen. She placed it there, protecting the life within. Ventress noticed, and her eyes widened.

"No …" she gasped. "Could it be …?"

She knelt down and placed her hand on Padmé's. Padmé tensed at the touch, and jerked, trying to force the Sith woman's hand away. Ventress kept it there, and her eyes widened. "Kyraska!" she said urgently.

The vornskr bounded over to the nearest ysalamir, took it in her jaws, and bit it in two. Ventress dragged Padmé towards the tree, then closed her eyes.

"Life," she hissed. "A child. No … not just one … two. _Twins_."

Padmé stiffened. She twisted furiously, trying to force Ventress off. Surprisingly, the Sith let her go. Ventress stood up and moved away from Padmé, keeping her eyes fixed on the beautiful, injured woman lying on the floor.

"Unbelievable …" she whispered. "Unbelievable. This … this cannot be denied. This is what I've been waiting for …"

Padmé could feel herself slipping from consciousness. She tried desperately to hang on, but the darkness was becoming too much, slowly consuming her. She could still see Ventress, staring at her as though stricken with awe.

Then suddenly, the Sith woman turned and moved away. She opened a hidden door in the wall and disappeared through it. Padmé saw light on the other side for the briefest moment before it closed again.

Lying on the floor of her prison, her clothes torn and bloody and her body beaten, Padmé felt a new fear seize her, one that made every other terror she had ever felt seem insignificant. She had been compromised. Her child … her children … were now in danger. She had failed them …

Her entire sense of reality faded. Padmé Amidala plunged into the eager, malevolent darkness to face her fears … alone.


	38. Action and Consequence

**Chapter 38**

"Are we ready?" Mace asked.

The Alderann guard who had just finished loading the ship saluted. "All systems are go, Master Windu."

Mace nodded in approval. "Excellent. And what of the communication I directed you to make? It went through?"

"It did."

"They will be there if we need them?"

"Fully armed and ready, Master."

"Very good. Then you are dismissed."

The guard saluted once more and moved off. Mace turned back to the ship. Yoda was just beginning to ascend the ramp, his gimer stick producing a scratching noise as it struck the metal. He stopped and looked back at Mace, who nodded to his old friend.

"We are ready."

Yoda's face was set as he returned the nod. "Then await you in the pilot's compartment, I will."

He walked up the rest of the ramp and disappeared into the ship. Just as he had vanished from sight, Senator Organa entered the hanger, his robes blowing behind him as he approached Mace.

"You are all set, then?"

Mace nodded. "We are, Senator. Thank you for all that you have done."

"I wish I could do more," Bail shrugged. "We really need you to come back alive."

"We will do our best, Senator. I cannot promise any more than that."

Bail let a half-smile cross his face. "Of course. We will take care of things here. Hopefully when we meet again it will be under brighter skies."

Mace extended his hand. "Your hope is returned. May the Force be with you, Senator."

Bail grasped the Jedi Master's hand and shook it firmly. "May the Force be with you as well, Master Windu."

They broke their handshake and turned towards their respective destinations, Bail the main palace, Mace his shuttle. Just as the Jedi Master had boarded the ramp, however, as voice rang out, calling him.

"Master Windu, wait!"

It was Sheltay. The Senator's aide was approaching the ship at a run, which slowed once Mace stopped walking and turned back towards her. Sheltay reached the bottom of the ramp and looked up at the Jedi Master. "Senator Organa told me you were leaving."

Mace nodded. "Master Yoda and I are going to Coruscant."

Sheltay frowned. "Why? The Empire has overrun it."

Mace walked back down the ramp, positioning himself in front of Sheltay. Given the importance of their mission, he wasn't sure he should tell her, but she had proven herself to be loyal and dedicated, and certainly would not betray them. He looked her right in the eyes. "We are going to confront the Emperor."

Sheltay's eyes widened. "What? But that's … But that's insane! He's too powerful!"

Mace did not break his stare. "Nevertheless, we are going to confront him. The Force has spoken to us, and we must listen."

Sheltay looked both puzzled and scared. Mace could not tell what had prompted this, other than the fact that the Emperor was indeed very powerful, and such an action was sure to be dangerous, possibly even fatal. Still, there was little else he could say to her. She wanted some kind of answer from him, but he did not know what kind of answer to give.

He decided to go with reassurance. "It will be all right, Lady Retrac. We have placed our trust in the Force. It will not fail us."

Sheltay seemed to be able to find no response to this. Her eyes were brimming with possible counters and rebuttals, but none could force their way to the surface. Mace watched her young face carefully. "Is there something you want to say, Lady Retrac?"

Sheltay shook her head, then suddenly she seized his hand – his real one. She held it in both of hers gently, not possessively, but somehow protective. She looked up at the Jedi Master and smiled.

"Take care, won't you?"

Before Mace could respond, she had released his hand and hurried back down the ramp, crossing the hanger towards the exit as her dark hair bounced in the bun behind her.

Mace stared after her for a moment, then he shook his head and turned back towards the ship, entering the cabin and sealing the door behind him.

He entered the cockpit and buckled himself into the pilot's seat. Yoda, who was sitting at the co-pilot's station, cast a sidelong look at him as he took the controls. The meaning of the elder Jedi's Master's glance could not be comprehended, even by someone as perceptive as Mace. Mace raised an eyebrow at Yoda. "What?"

Yoda held the glance for a long second, then shook his head. Mace thought he understood now. "That wasn't what you thought," he said as the ship rose up on its repulsorlifts.

Yoda's expression did not change. "Focus on the mission, you will."

"I …" Mace shut his mouth, recognizing the futility of arguing. He felt like a padawan again, being chastised by the Jedi Master for failing to control himself. It was not a comfortable feeling, but knowing Yoda, the Jedi Master had probably chosen his words exactly to put Mace on his guard. It was an old trick, yet Yoda never failed to pull it off.

Mace put Yoda's words and all thoughts of his encounter with Sheltay out of his mind, and focused on guiding their ship out of the hanger. Alderaan Central Control gave them clearance for liftoff, and Mace expertly guided the craft up out of the hanger, and through the atmosphere. Just as the sun rose over the mountains, the Jedi craft broke into open space and went to lightspeed, racing towards Coruscant and carrying the two great Jedi Masters towards their destiny.

* * *

She was in pain when she awoke. Every cut, every bruise that Ventress had inflicted seemed to have been given new life while she slept, for she could barely move. Padmé Amidala gasped as she became acutely aware of all of these senses once more, and for a moment she felt threatened to spiral back into oblivion. But slowly, agonizingly, she held on until she was certain that she would stay awake.

She opened her eyes. She was lying on her side facing the invisible door through which Ventress had disappeared. The room was still lit by the same harsh light as before, but either it had dimmed or she was used to it, because it did not blind her as before. She cast her gaze around the room. Nothing seemed to have changed; it was as dilapidated and miserable as ever.

The general misery of the room was nothing compared to Padmé's. Slowly, she placed a hand on her womb, where the children she carried within her lay peacefully. They were unaware that their mother had placed them in mortal peril. They were unaware that they were about to become the target of the Sith. All that they could sense was the increase in their mother's heart rate and the worry that was pervading her system. One of them kicked anxiously.

Padmé stroked her abdomen gently. "It's okay," she whispered tenderly. "It's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you."

The twins calmed down, soothed by their mother's touch. Padmé blinked back a tear. So perfect. Her children … they were not even born yet and already she loved them with a passion that frightened her. They were equal parts her own and Anakin's, combining the best aspects of each of them into one entity, one heartbeat, one life.

How could she face Anakin? How could he forgive for what she had done? She had seen the look in his eyes when he had learned he was to be a father. That look had been one of surprise slowly giving away to total and unconditional love. All her worries had been washed away, and she had sunk even more deeply into the ocean of ecstasy. They would do this. They would do it together.

Padmé knew that Anakin would still love her, no matter what happened. But if something happened to their children, he would change. He would become bitter, dark, angry … he would become callous, killing without remorse or feeling. She would be helpless to watch as she dealt not only with her own pain, but with the agony of watching her husband become a monster.

She closed her eyes. A vision seemed to come to her, a storm of fire. Anakin walked through it, his face contorted with hatred, and his eyes burning with a deep yellow light. He did not notice as the fire began to char his skin, turning it black. He watched his wife silently, his eyes accusatory and his lip curled in anger even as the fire slowly consumed him …

Padmé opened her eyes and blinked furiously, dispelling the terrible image. No … she could not let it happen. She _would not_ let it happen!

A voice in the back of her mind tried to soothe her, assuring her that what had happened was not her fault. It would only become her fault if she became complacent, and allowed the Sith to take her children without a fight.

Padmé's face hardened with iron determination. Nothing in the entire galaxy was less likely.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, ignoring the great wave of pain that crashed into her. There had to be a way to fight somehow. She tried to stand.

A menacing growl came from the nearby shadows. Padmé looked over and saw a pair of dark eyes watching her. The vornskr Kyraska poked her head into the light, her teeth bared at Padmé. She appeared tense, ready to pounce. Padmé's legs trembled with fear and weakness, and she slumped down again.

She was being watched, as Ventress had promised. The Sith woman had said she would leave two of the beasts on duty. Padmé looked into the shadows, and spied another one of the creatures lying there, breathing evenly. It was asleep. So they were taking turns, one watching while the other rested, maximizing their efficiency.

Padmé bit her lip in frustration. Slowly, so as not to alarm the beasts, she looked around the room. There was nothing save a few piles of rubble and the short trees in each corner, attached to which were the Force-blocking ysalamiri. The one that Ventress had ordered to be killed had been replaced, completing a total containment bubble with her at its center.

Padmé closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms. _Think, Padmé, think! Use your mind. It's gotten you out of worse situations than this._

No stroke of inspiration came to her. She was too tired, too afraid, too much in pain to think clearly. Her mind was a jumbled clutter of primal sensations and a hazy mist of confusion. It was useless.

Padmé touched her womb once more. Her life was not the only one at stake here. The lives of her and Anakin's children were dependent on her breaking through. If that could not inspire her, nothing could.

Then, as she allowed herself to feel love once more, it came to her, a single ray of light that banished all the shadows. Padmé looked at the canine sentry out of the corner of her eye. It would work, as long as she was patient.

The vornskrs were sleeping in shifts. To maximize efficiency, one must wake up just as the other is getting tired. During that window, both creatures would be on their lowest awareness level. Kyraska's eyes were drooping. She must have been on duty for several hours. The shift would change soon. It was then she could act.

Padmé began to crawl, painfully, towards the nearest rubble pile. Kyraska noticed, and growled warningly. Padmé stopped, lying still despite the tension and pain that were making it hell to lie there on the floor. After a moment, Kyraska's guard dropped, and her eyes began to droop again.

Padmé continued to crawl. She was interrupted a few more times, but the vornskr seemed less and less threatened as Padmé drew further away. Centimeter by painful centimeter, Padmé forced herself along.

She reached the rubble pile and pulled herself into a sitting position. Kyraska did not even growl; she was clearly half-asleep already. Meanwhile, the other vornskr was starting to stir. Padmé picked up a fist-sized stone and held it in her hand, watching the beasts intently. Kyraska's eyes slid shut.

Quick as lightning, Padmé threw the stone. Despite her strained shoulder, her aim was true. The rock struck Kyraska in the skull, and the fearsome creature tumbled to the floor, unconscious.

The other vornskr was waking, raising its head off the floor. Padmé seized another piece of rubble and flung it at the beast, hitting it between the eyes. The vornskr immediately sank back down into oblivion.

Padmé let out a deep sigh of relief, but did not allow herself time to rest. Ventress might come in at any moment. She needed to move.

Padmé tried to force herself to her feet, but she could not rise. Her bitten ankle would not support her weight, and the stress in her legs made her tremble. Instead, she once more began to crawl.

Every reach was agony, but Padmé endured, sliding towards the nearest tree. She reached it, and gritting her teeth, pulled herself up. The ysalamir there continued to chew, blissfully ignoring her.

Padmé grasped the lizard in both of her delicate hands and tried to pull it free. The creature immediately tightened its grip on the branch, long claws sinking into the bark. Recognizing that it was not going to move, Padmé grasped the creature around its neck and pulled.

There was a small crack as the ysalamir's neck broke. Padmé assured herself that it was dead, then used the tree to pull herself to a standing position. Holding her injured ankle off the floor, she used the wall as support and limped towards the next tree. Upon reaching it, she performed the same procedure.

Gritting her teeth against the pain and fighting back the blackness swirling in her vision, Padmé made her way around the room to the final two trees, killing the ysalamiri there. Her work done, she collapsed to the floor and dragged herself back to the center of the room.

As she began to drift back into unconsciousness, she summoned her resolve one last time and focused all her will, all her love, into one desperate call.

_Anakin …_

_Anakin …_

* * *

Anakin jerked out of an uneasy sleep. "Padmé?"

The Jedi Knight sat up so suddenly that he nearly banged his head on the viewport. Any traces of exhaustion he might have felt were swept away as his wife's sweet voice reached his ears. It sounded so close, like she was sitting just behind him, whispering in his ear as she held him close. Anakin found himself turning to see if Padmé had not somehow miraculously materialized in the cabin.

This was not a dream. The call that had reached him was not an insubstantial echo in his own mind, a mental projection of his heart's desire. This was real. Padmé was calling for him.

Anakin reached out with the Force. To his amazement, Padmé was there. He could sense her for the first time since he had left Alderaan. Their bond was as strong as ever, but even as he rejoiced in his wife's aura, he could feel her distress. Her pain. She was injured, and she was desperate.

Anakin quickly activated the controls, bringing the ship up from standby. The hyperspace coordinates he had entered after leaving Alderaan had led him to a stretch of open space, hundreds of light years from anything larger than a speck of dust. In frustration, he had jumped again, and then again, each time landing further and further away until even he, who knew most of the galactic hyperspace lanes like the back of his hand, was completely lost.

No longer. Not only could he sense Padmé, she was close. Images flooded to him, images of a jungle planet marked by massive stone temples, which pulsed with strange power. It was oddly familiar. Anakin closed his eyes and let his mind supply the coordinates. He entered them into the navicomputer.

Once more the stars elongated. As he shot into hyperspace, Anakin reached out for the beloved presence, offering a simple phrase as comfort.

_I'm coming, Padmé._

* * *

Asajj Ventress tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the holonet transmitter to establish a connection. The screen stayed blank, heightening her frustration. What was keeping him? Why wasn't he picking up? She scratched the ear of one of her vorkskrs as she waited. Likely he was well aware that she was calling, and was simply choosing not to answer to irritate her. It was a childish thing to do, but as Dark Lord of the Sith, he was entitled to it.

Finally, the connection was made. Darth Vader's face appeared on the monitor, looking as malevolent as ever.

Ventress fixed her de facto employer with a glare. "Do you always keep your servants waiting this long?"

Vader scowled. "I was meditating, Ventress. You forget that you are the one at my disposal, not the other way around."

Ventress ground her teeth. "Not for much longer."

Vader's scowl vanished, replaced by an almost delighted expression.

"Is this a threat, Ventress?" he asked mockingly. "Has the spineless worm finally grown a backbone?"

Asajj forced back a snarl, enduring the sting of her humiliation. "I am calling to make my report. I have captured Senator Amidala."

"I see." Vader did not seem surprised by the news, and if he was pleased, he didn't show it. "Well done. However, my Master sensed that you had completed your mission long before you contacted us. What was the cause for your … delay?"

Asajj cursed silently. She should have anticipated that Vader would not be forgiving on this issue. She did not have a carefully weighted excuse. She was going to have to lie.

"The Senator put up more resistance than I had anticipated," she said. There was an element of truth to this; she hadn't expected to be stabbed with a vibroblade and kicked in the face. "I felt it necessary to ensure that she was properly secured and subdued before I informed you of my success.

Vader's eyes narrowed. There was no doubt he was probing her mind. Asajj met his gaze as evenly as she could, trying to keep her mind completely blank. It was as strong of a mental shield as she could muster, and it had succeeded in keeping Count Dooku out of her thoughts when she desired to keep certain actions she had taken a secret. She could only hope it would hold now.

Vader's face became icy. "You tortured her, didn't you?"

Asajj felt the familiar ghostly fingers touch her throat, ready to clench at the slightest provocation. She swallowed hard, then forced her voice past the invisible obstruction. "I told you that she put up resistance …"

Vader cut her off, the Force beginning to swirl dangerously about him. His eyes carried no hint of amusement as he glared at her.

"Curse you, Ventress," he said softly. "I thought that I explicitly instructed you not to harm her _any more than was necessary_. I do not condone being lied too, but I have even less tolerance for disobedience. Surely I warned you that there would be consequences?"

Asajj swallowed again, then snarled at herself for showing such fear. She was done being a doormat. She had power, power to resist him, and she would do so. She would not back down.

"Yes, you did tell me that there would be consequences," she said acidly. "But what I have uncovered is well worth that price. During my time with the Senator, I came into possession of such knowledge that has the potential to threaten even your position, Lord Vader."

A cruel smile appeared on Vader's lips. "Did you, Ventress? And do you plan to tell me what this knowledge is, and so detail my downfall? Then through the fires of my ruin place yourself at the Emperor's side as Lady of the Sith? No doubt your arrogant mind cannot wait to spill it all. So do so. I give you leave."

Asajj glared at her enemy hatefully. "What if I decide such information is only for the ears of the Emperor?"

Vader's laugh was even crueler than his smile. "Ventress, you are rotting on a backwater planet. You have no access to the Emperor, save through me. Speak, unless you want your precious knowledge to die with you."

Asajj's pale eyes glowed with malevolence. Vader wanted to play hardball? All right, she would humor him.

"Your services and Skywalker's may soon no longer be needed," she told Vader. "Senator Padmé Amidala is pregnant. With _twins_."

She expected to Vader to be shocked. She expected him to be angry. She expected him to be so startled, so confused, that his aura of invincibility would completely disappear. She expected to see fear.

She did see fear. But it was not how she expected.

The fear that flashed into Darth Vader's eyes was not the fear of a Sith Lord sensing a powerful threat to his status. It was not the fear of a man worried for his life. It was the fear that one sees in the eyes of a parent when their child is threatened, or a leader whose people have been placed in inescapable danger through his or her mistake. It was the fear of a failed responsibility.

Asajj, through her triumph, was utterly perplexed. She could almost swear that the man she was looking at now was not Darth Vader, but someone she had used to know. A Jedi …

The revelation did not last for more than a second. The fear she had sensed was completely swallowed up into a deep black abyss. Replacing it was anger. Deeply coursing anger that flowed into Vader's eyes like a river of molten lava …

"Have you told _anyone_ else about this?" he whispered.

Asajj shook her head. "No, only you, unfortunately. From the look on your face, I would have been well-served to tell the entire galaxy. You cannot fool me, Vader. Nor can you oppress me any longer. You care about what happens to these little vessels of potential, and I have the bargaining power now. Their lives are in my hands."

Vader did not seem to have heard anything but the first sentence. "Listen to me, Ventress: your survival depends on it. I forbid you to tell anyone else about this. You are to make no communications whatsoever, unless they are to me. Not one word of this reaches the ears of the Emperor. Do you understand?"

Asajj leaned closer to the monitor. "Did you not hear what I told you, Lord Vader? _I have the bargaining power._ The time that you control the situation is past. If I choose to inform the Emperor about his future apprentices, then you cannot stop me. I am certain that he will be most pleased to hear of my loyalty … and ever so disappointed that you attempted to conceal such important information from him."

Vader's face became a deathly mask of foreboding. "Do not test me, Ventress. I warn you."

"Oh I will test you, _My Lord_," Asajj hissed. "I will do whatever I want. The greatest skifter in the galaxy has fallen into my hands, and I fully intend to use it. Maybe the Jedi will take you back after you are exiled, if any of them are still alive …"

Asajj Ventress got no further.

Every nerve cell in her body exploded with pain.

Asajj's legs immediately collapsed from underneath her as the strength fled from them. She crashed to the hard stone floor and her back instantly arched almost to the point of snapping as her seized muscles tightened under the stress. An unearthly scream tore from her mouth as the sensation assailed her. It felt like searing hot knifes were touching every inch of her skin. The vornskrs backed away from her as she writhed on the floor.

Vader had risen to his full height, staring down at her imperiously. It was terrible sight to behold. Shadows were obscuring his face and body, hiding his features behind a mask of living darkness that swirled as hatred churned within him. The blackness was absolute; the only features that were visible were his eyes. They had shifted to pure red, bypassing yellow entirely. The heat that poured from them seemed intense enough to generate smoke and flame. Just looking into the Sith's vengeful eyes made Asajj, already racked by indescribable pain, scream anew as his deadly stare lanced straight to the depths of her mind. Lightning crackled at Vader's fists, and he seemed ready to send it through the monitor, send it across a thousand light years of space to strike the screaming woman who lay prostrate before him.

Asajj could register nothing but Vader's face as she contorted with absolute agony. She wanted it to end, to black out, to die … but Vader would not release her. He began to speak, and every word seared along Ventress's ear canals and burned into her mind.

"_Listen to me, you festering piece of slime!_" he rumbled, his voice like that of a god. "_No one is to hear about what you have learned. No one! If a single word reaches of this reaches my Master, I shall know that it came from you. When that happens, not even he will be able to save you. I will reach out across time and space and place you in such absolute torment that it will become legendary. Your screams will echo throughout the Massassi Temples for ten thousand years!_"

He leaned forward and the storm grew in intensity. The lights in the communications center flickered incessantly. "_DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?_"

The darkness began to fade. Vader's features became visible again, and his eyes began to ever so slowly shift from red to blue. A few last charges of residual lightning arced across his arms, then vanished.

And finally, Asajj's pain faded.

She lay on the floor curled in a fetal position, much like the one she had forced Padmé into following her beating. Her breath came in shallow sobs, and tears blurred her vision. Vader watched her, and there was no trace of pity in his cold eyes.

"As soon as this is over, Ventress," he hissed, "as soon as your services are no longer required, I advise you to disappear. Because if I ever hear your name again, I swear on my life that I will hunt you down … and I will kill you."

Ventress nodded, willing to say or do anything to make Vader stop looking at her.

Vader's lip curled, and he spoke in a voice absolutely saturated with contempt and hatred.

"_Get…out…of…my…sight!_"

As fast as she could, Ventress struggled on her hands and knees out of the camera's view. Once she had disappeared, Vader terminated the feed. Asajj collapsed to the floor, lying almost perfectly still.

* * *

In his personal quarters aboard the Star Destroyer Vengeance, Darth Vader stared hard at the screen for a few moments, then abruptly he spun and drove his fist directly into the wall.

"DAMN HER!"

Vader spun around again and lashed out with his forearm, smashing one of the communications monitors to dust. Unsated, he used the Force to pick up the table it had rested on and fling it into the far wall, where in broke cleanly in half.

"DAMN HER TO THE NINTH LEVEL OF CORELLIAN HELL!"

The Dark Lord of the Sith stormed the length of his quarters, the floor shaking as he placed his boot down hard with each step. He reached the opposite wall in no time at all and immediately turned around and headed back. He continued in this matter for several minutes, all the while letting his rage and frustration simmer within him.

_I should have known that this would happen. She cannot be trusted. I can't believe that I allowed the Emperor to talk me into this._

There was a knock on his door. Vader ignored it and continued his pacing.

_They've been compromised. I've allowed Anakin and Padmé's children to become political pawns. I had no intentions of using this information until Anakin had been turned to the Dark Side, and we were strong enough to resist any attempt that Sidious would make to get his hands on them. Now Ventress knows. Even if she doesn't contact my Master, he could find out._

The knocking continued. Vader continued to ignore it. A sick feeling rose in his stomach as he became aware of another complication.

_Padmé told me in confidence. She trusted I would not betray her, even though I am her enemy. Now I've not only allowed that information to be exposed, I've allowed Padmé to be tortured. She will never forgive me for this. Anakin will never forgive me for this. He can't ever find out. He won't join me if he does …_

"Lord Vader?"

Nuruodo's voice came over the intercom. So that was who was outside the door. Vader forced his anger down from the surface and opened the portal with a wave of his hand. "Come in."

This Chiss agent entered. His eyes flickered towards the destroyed table and the monitor, but he gave no indication of surprise of any other emotion. "Is everything well, My Lord?"

Vader grimaced. "Nothing that you need to concern yourself with, Commander. What brings you here?"

Nuruodo straightened. "A message from the Admiral, My Lord. We have arrived at Mustafar."

* * *

The next chapter contains a scene that is too violent to be posted in the main story. If you would like to read it, I can either e-mail it to you, or send it to you in a PM. If you want to wait and see the context it will be in, that's fine. Once again, it is EXTREMELY graphic, so don't feel bad if you don't want to read it, as it's not essential to the flow of the story. 


	39. Lessons in Pain

Hello again!

It's been a while since my last update, but I am truly suprised by the volume of positive reviews that I have received. I was worried that my unfortunate habit for long layoffs in between chapters would hurt this story's credibility, but to my great pleasure, it seems that those fears are unfounded.

I thought I'd clear up something here: the graphic scene that I will be sending out to those who requested it is not a separate chapter in and of itself. It is a "missing scene" from the chapter posted below that is simply too violent to be posted here without necessitating a change of rating. I think that as you read the following chapter, you will be able to tell where the missing scene fits in, and make your own judgement about whether or not you think that you need to read it in order to understand what happened.

Thank you very much for your patience, and enjoy the post!

**Darth Vastor**

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* * *

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**Chapter 39**

As his ship transitioned smoothly back to real space and he looked out at the system before him, Anakin Skywalker was struck with a feeling of intense familiarity.

_I've been here before._

This was the Yavin system, dominated by the vast gas giant Yavin. The turbulent planet's only claim to recognition was the Corusca gem industry, which occasionally made stops here to harvest the special crystals shaped by the planets immense gravity and high-energy storms. The planet was surrounded by several moons, only two of which were habitable. The much more prominent of these two was Yavin 4, a jungle world on which had been built several enormous Temples, a marker of a long-forgotten race. It was on that moon that he had defeated Asajj Ventress in lightsaber combat during the war. And it was from there that Padmé's signature came.

Anakin engaged the drive systems and began his approach. He was going to have to plan his entry carefully. If Padmé was being held prisoner, then her captor would be watching the sensors to ensure that no one was incoming. If he were detected now, the captor might decide to kill Padmé before he could land.

He could land on the far side of the moon, but then he would face at least a week-long trek to reach his destination. Or he could try to skirt the sensor shadows using the Force, and so evade detection that way.

The later was the wiser choice, but it would be very difficult. He would have to place all his trust in the Force, and simultaneously cut himself off from Padmé so that her pain did not distract him. Anakin took a moment to send her a reassuring vibe, then blocked their bond. Taking a deep breath, he started in.

It required absolutely immaculate precision to detect the sensor shadows and keep to their edges. A lesser pilot would have failed in seconds. But Anakin was able to maintain the delicate balance, and slowly he drew closer to the moon's surface.

As he reached the edges of the atmosphere, Anakin could sense that he was not alone. There was a dark presence pervading the Force around him, ancient and extremely powerful. He could sense no malice from it towards him, however. In fact, it seemed to be helping him, warning him whenever the sensor shadows moved. Anakin wanted to probe the presence further, but he needed to devote all his attention to the task at hand.

After several intense minutes of maneuvering, Anakin finished his descent through the atmosphere and landed his ship in a clearing a short distance from the largest Massassi Temple. He powered his vessel down, checked his lightsaber, then moved out into the cabin and down the ramp.

As soon as he set foot on the leafy jungle floor, the dark presence he had sensed from space increased, swirling and gathering about him. It seemed that the closer he got to the temple, the stronger it grew. As Anakin advanced through the underbrush, he began to hear something, a voice whispering to him.

_Welcome Anakin Skywalker._

Anakin stiffened. "Who are you?" he asked.

The voice chuckled. _That is unimportant. Long has your coming been foretold._

Anakin frowned as he moved towards the Temple, fighting through the thick vines. "My coming?

_Yes. The Chosen One. The Sith'ari. The ancient legends have said that this being of destiny would come. The trials he would face would shape him into what he is ultimately meant to be. Now, I understand that you have been brought here to face one such trial …and take another step down your path._

Anakin didn't know what to think. This dark presence was assailing him, and he knew it sought to sway him somehow. He was determined not to listen, yet simultaneously intrigued.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

_Fortunately you don't need to. All you need is to trust the Force, and your own inner instincts. It is at this elemental level that you will determine the course of action you are to take for what you are about to find inside my Temple._

Anakin had reached the threshold. He stared up at the ancient stone monument warily, his hand on his lightsaber. "What will I find inside?"

The voice laughed. _You will see._

* * *

Assaj Ventress sat brooding in her quarters, silently passing her lightsaber through her hands. Though her fingers moved deftly, she had to work very hard to keep them from trembling. Her eyes were closed as she attempted to call upon the currents of dark side power flowing throughout the Temple, and so immerse herself in strength. It was useless. The power utterly eluded her. It was almost as if someone had consciously taken it away.

Assaj opened her eyes and sighed in frustration. She should be doing _something_, acting on the valuable information she had garnered. But instead she was sitting here, complacent, because Darth Vader had forbidden her to act.

In a flash, she was back on the floor, helpless and racked by pain as Vader glared down at her, his eyes alight with the power of his anger. His presence was inescapable; it was all around her, inside her, subduing her mind. She had been tainted, and the price of defiance was death.

Asajj shuddered as the memories assailed her anew. The lightsaber slipped from her grasp. She glared at her nerveless fingers in disgust, then summoned her weapon back to her. She was not used to weakness; it did not suit her at all. If she could not devise a plan to regain control, she would waste away entirely.

She could not directly defy Vader – that much she knew. That meant that she could not contact the Emperor. There was no way to gain his protection and status without Vader finding out. The Senator's children were not going to be raised as Sith … at least, not immediately.

What if she herself were to raise the children? She could induce labor, then claim that Padmé had died in childbirth. Given her weakened condition, the Senator's death was a definite possibility. Then she would hide the twins and train them in a secluded place, until they were old enough and strong enough to challenge Vader. At that point, the Emperor would need a new servant, provided he failed to turn Skywalker. She could gain the prestige of the Sith, while the children fought for the honor of apprenticing themselves to the Dark Lord.

She would have to be patient, but it would work. The hardest part would be the hiding: hiding not only from Vader, but from Anakin and the surviving Jedi as well. Her pride would take a severe and potentially devastating hit. But it would be worth it. Once her plan was set in motion she would have her revenge on all of them …

Suddenly, a warning came from the Force, telling her to check the monitors. She hurried over to the display, and called up the cameras covering the entrance. At first she saw nothing, but then she was able to discern a dark figure moving slowly across the main hall. His hood was up, but Asajj was able to catch a glimpse of his face. The scar over his right eye and his determined icy blue eyes were traits she knew all too well.

Anakin Skywalker.

Asajj's breathing quickened. How had he managed to find her here? How had he been able to evade the security sensors? Could he somehow have sensed Senator Amidala here? No, she had taken precautions …

Asajj raced from her quarters, down towards the dungeons. It mattered little now. If Skywalker was here, a confrontation was inevitable. She would have her chance to best him. He had narrowly defeated her the previous two times, once on this very moon. But now, with the element of surprise and the power of the Massassi Temple behind her, not even the Chosen One would be able to resist her. She could not kill him, per Lord Sidious's directive, but there was nothing stopping her from causing him excruciating pain.

Asajj reached the dungeon and stopped outside of the Senator's cell. The two vornskrs in the antechamber looked up in their cages and growled pleasurably at her. Bits of torn metal were strewn around the room from where the creatures had chewed at the bars. Asajj quickly typed in the password and poked her head inside the cell.

"Kyraska!" She called. "Devorum!"

The two canine beasts came bounding through the door, albeit unsteadily. Asajj noticed that they had bloody lumps on their heads, but she could not be troubled with that now.

She spared a glance towards the center of the room. Padmé lay there with her back towards the open door, almost perfectly still. She was unconscious, and doubt suffering from both infection and delirium. She was in no condition to cause trouble. Asajj sealed her up again, locking the door.

The vornskrs suddenly tensed as they discerned the powerful Force presence moving over their heads. They growled angrily, long teeth bared in savage snarls. Asajj stroked their ears lovingly.

"That's right, my dears," she said maliciously. "We have a visitor."

* * *

The sound of Anakin's footsteps echoed throughout the vast open entrance hall as he advanced towards its far end. Thus far, he had seen nothing. His lightsaber was readily displayed in his right hand, warding back shadows that seemed ready to materialize into a living enemy. Anakin's danger sense was constantly buzzing, even as it mingled with his sense of Padmé. There was no doubt that whoever had taken Padmé captive and harmed her was nearby, perhaps watching him even now, waiting to strike.

He reached the center of the main hall and paused. There was no noise but the sound of his own steady breathing, which seemed to reverberate off of the dark stones and return to him amplified by several degrees. Anakin closed his eyes and allowed himself to become immersed in the sound, his mind floating along the traces of its echo. Then, as he stood there, he became aware of another pattern, another person breathing. Someone else had entered the antechamber, and was watching him from the shadows. His enemy. His adversary. Right in front of him …

Anakin opened his eyes, and they immediately locked onto the new arrival with ruthless precision. "Asajj Ventress."

The Sith woman stepped out of the shadows, an eager smile stretching her features. "Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One. I should have guessed that the Jedi would send their pet savior to investigate any dark disturbance."

The two vornskrs flanking her appeared on either side, their teeth bared ferociously at Anakin. The Jedi eyed them with disdain. "Protection, Ventress? Are you scared to face me alone after what happened the last time?"

Asajj's smile became bitter. "Times have changed, Skywalker. I hold the upper hand now."

Anakin's eyes hardened, sending a clear message that he was sick of their banter. "Enough, Ventress. Where's Padmé?"

Asajj raised her eyebrows. "Padmé? As in Senator Amidala? Whatever would such an important person be doing in a place like this?"

Anakin's dangerously thin patience snapped. "You kidnapped her, Ventress," he snarled. "You brought her here against her will. And you hurt her – I can sense it through the Force. I want to know where she is. NOW!"

Ventress smiled calculatingly, abandoning pretenses of ignorance. "I would not worry about your lover at the moment, Skywalker. She is not the one facing imminent injury and death."

Anakin's lip curled. "No, that would be you. I am going to give you one chance. Tell me where Padmé is, and there is a chance that you will escape this planet with your life."

Asajj's eyes widened in delight. "Such … _anger_, Skywalker! What rage! What power! Embrace it! If you delve into it far enough, who knows what you will find!"

Anakin ignited his blade. "Why don't I show you?"

Twin red blades sprang to life in Ventress's hands. Her pale eyes glittered. "Gladly."

Anakin snarled and charged towards her.

Ventress shrieked a battle cry and rushed him, her twin blades whirling in an impenetrable shield of light. Kyraska and Devorum lunged forward, their teeth gnashing in bloodthirsty anticipation as they eyed their prey – the Chosen One.

The crackling discharge as Anakin's blade met Ventress's seared the air, infusing it with the mutual rage of the combatants. Almost at once, an echo followed, mingling with the sounds of their fresh clashes as the two warriors fully converged on each other.

Ventress began her assault with a timed flurry, measuring her strikes so that one blade would always be keeping Anakin occupied while the other sought the crippling strike. The strategy was peerless in principle, but yielded unsatisfactory results. Anakin's blade was too quick; it parried every strike with ease, and the resulting momentum fed the Jedi's counterattacks.

Ventress came at Anakin's legs with a double sweep, aiming to cut him down at the knees. With lightning parries, Anakin fended off the two attacks, then countered with a spinning slash at Ventress's midsection. Ventress parried it with one of her blades, then brought the other up for a slice at Anakin's neck. Anakin dogged the blow, then reversed his grip and came back across with a slash at the dark woman's face. Ventress parried the vicious strike with difficulty, then spun like a tornado, launching one, two, three, four quick cuts at Anakin's body. The Jedi seamlessly shifted back to the defensive and blocked them all.

The vornskrs were watching the combatants carefully from within striking range. They circled around, waiting for their master to distract Anakin enough so that they could launch an assault at his unprotected back. But the opportunity did not come immediately, for Anakin's sheer ferocity had forced Ventress onto the defensive.

Anakin danced across the dark stone tiles, his footwork flawlessly complementing the movements of his blade as he worked to drive Ventress towards the corner. Beads of frustrated sweat ran down Ventress's face and shaved head as she fruitlessly tried to disrupt his flow. The distance to the wall closing rapidly, Anakin shifted into a new gear, pouring all his energy into offensive effort. With Ventress having no opportunity to counterattack, he seemed poised to overwhelm her.

Devorum exploded towards him at full speed, claws and teeth bared to sink into the Jedi's back. Anakin sensed the furious predator's charge a second before it struck him, and whipped his blade back, catching the vornskr on the side.

The beast snarled in pain as it landed away from its target, a long black burn running the length of its left side. It flinched slightly as it touched down, the force of impact touching the wound, but without delay it braced itself and sprang back towards the Jedi, deadly mouth seeking his throat.

Anakin met the beast head-on. As Devorum was at the apex of his leap, his yawning maw extended wider than the Jedi's head, Anakin shoved his weapon with lethal force into the beast's mouth. The beam of supercharged energy lanced straight through the vornskr's esophagus and pushed into his chest cavity, impaling the heart. The creature's unearthly howl of pain was cut off abruptly, and he went limp in midair as the shock reached every corner of his body.

Anakin mercilessly ripped his blade free of the dead creature, then spun around to confront his enemy. To his anger, Ventress had used the opening created by her creature's attack to maneuver out of the trap he had set for her. She was now ten paces off, gathering herself for a fresh onset. Anakin closed the distance, and she abandoned herself to a wild and uncontrolled attack that had even the Chosen One forced back onto the defensive. Cuts came in from every angle, raining down on Anakin's head, shoulders, and torso. Through years of acquired and innate skill, Anakin was able to hold her off.

Kyraska, stricken by the loss of her hunting partner, suddenly recovered. Disregarding that her master was mounting her own assault on the Jedi, the enraged beast lunged at Anakin's legs, her snapping maw prepared to rend flesh from bone.

Anakin saw her coming and dogged, although not quickly enough to avoid the stinging whap of her tail. The thick material of his boots protected him from the worst of the damage, but even then some of the impact went through. A bloody welt erupted on his right leg, and the poison on the creature's tail rushed into his system.

Anakin grimaced and used the Force to stimulate his body's response to the toxin. Faster than he would have believed, the intrusive substance was burned from his bloodstream. A fresh wave of anger mounted inside of him, filling his limbs with additional strength.

Kyraska came back around as Anakin forced away one of Ventress's strikes aimed at his shoulder. The beast's powerful hind legs launched it a full two meters into the air. She came towards Anakin at head height, ready to grasp the back of his spine in her jaws and shatter it.

Anakin kicked out at Ventress, forcing the Sith woman to fall back. With space to maneuver, he spun a full one hundred and eighty degrees towards the oncoming creature. As Kyraska fell towards him, Anakin side-stepped, raised his blade, and brought it down. His strike cut the bloodthirsty creature cleanly in half.

The two pieces of Kyraska's body continued on their original trajectory, crashing to the floor at Ventress's feet. The dark side disciple screamed in rage as her favorite pet was so carelessly disposed off. She turned her murderous eyes onto Anakin, who smiled daringly and spun his lightsaber in his weapon hand, challenging her to resume their duel.

Ventress took the challenge with restored vigor. Her twin sabers sought Anakin's throat.

The Jedi parried the two blades simultaneously and shoved, arresting Ventress's momentum. He immediately pressed his resulting advantage. Sparks flew from the three blades as they clashed remorselessly against each other. For the next two minutes, the two warriors dueled furiously across the main hall, pirouetting and sliding across the floor like trained dance partners – their dance was the dance of death.

Soon, it became apparent to both contestants who had the upper hand. Anakin's personalized lightsaber form, modified from Form V Djem So to fit his unique strengths, was proving far too powerful for Ventress to overcome. The sheer kinetic power generated by the Jedi threatened to smash through the Sith woman's guard every time their blades made contact. Ventress, who loosely followed Form IV while allowing for the special style made necessary by having two blades, could not stay on the offensive for any substantial amount of time because all of her strength was needed to fend off Anakin's increasingly savage attacks. The duel would be over soon if she did not find a way to counter him.

Ventress reached into the Force, calling upon the ancient currents of power the circulated in the Temple, willing them to flow through her. The initial chill of the malevolent presence gave way to empowering strength as she concentrated on bending it to her will. Her arms steadied, and she found herself more in control.

Anakin sensed the shift in his opponent's mindset even as he chained together a new series of potent attacks. Ventress was growing more confident; she had a trick up her sleeve. The conflict had entered a new stage. If he was going to break her, first he needed to break her will.

Anakin began to shift his attacks from wide slashes designed to shatter his opponent's guard to more precise strikes similar to the ones used in Form II. Ventress met the change well, eyes blazing with the heat of her new-found confidence and power. Her sweeping blades came within millimeters of Anakin several times, but the Jedi was never where she sensed him to be. As Anakin channeled his energies into becoming an immaculate machine, the increased intensity of Ventress's strikes did not phase him. All the while, he continued to guide her backwards.

They ascended a short set of steps onto a raised pulpit-like area, similar to the kind used by entertainers at award shows or medal presentations. There were several ancient turbolifts visible, but also a wide staircase that led down into the depths of the temple. Anakin led them towards the mouth of this tunnel, positioning Ventress so that her back was to the opening. Then he opened a small hole in his guard. Ventress seized the opportunity with feral intent, swinging both of her red-tinged blades high at his unprotected neck.

Anakin ducked under the scything blades and kicked Ventress full-force in the chest. The Sith disciple screeched as she tumbled down the long stairwell and out of sight.

Anakin smiled. Perfect.

The beast was cornered now. No doubt she would turn savage as her back was pressed against the wall, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would be able to meet her fury with his own and cut her down. He would do whatever was necessary.

As the vengeful Jedi Knight descended the staircase after his prey, a low, evil laugh emanated from the very walls of the Temple.

* * *

Anakin found himself in a dark corridor, lit only by faint green glow rods. The poor light illuminated sinister growths and carvings on the walls, marks of life both wild and sentient. Anakin did not bother to strain his eyes as he advanced down the passageway. Ventress was close. He could feel it.

An unbroken matrix of lines appeared to him in his Force vision, connecting everything in the corridor together. Anakin followed the lines from himself to their next-highest area of concentration, just a few paces ahead, invisible in the shadows. Anakin's grip on his lightsaber handle tightened, and a sense of pernicious purpose rose within him.

_Three …two …one…NOW!_

Anakin spun around to meet the attack as Ventress's red blades sprang out of the gloom and sliced down at him. He brought his saber above his head to parry, and Asajj's attack broke on the impenetrable wall of his defense. With the Force, Anakin seized his enemy and shoved her into his line of vision. Ventress's pale skin bulged with veins as she conducted her rage and summoned power through every vessel in her body. Her murderous eyes locked onto Anakin's. There was no trace of mercy in either of their hearts.

Anakin ground his teeth together as he once more seized the upper hand, driving Ventress back relentlessly towards the end of the corridor. The dark woman was growing increasingly frustrated at her failure to maim her mortal enemy, and it showed in the strain on her face. Only once did she get through his guard, lightly singing his right bicep. Anakin made her pay for the strike by bringing his elbow up to smash her in the face. Ventress spat out a stream of saliva mixed with blood.

The corridor ended, and the two combatants found themselves in the dungeons. The room they were in was a vast antechamber, with a ceiling that was at least ten meters off the ground. A strange slab made of dark black stone sat at the far end, along with a pulpit and a rack containing several ancient weapons. This was a sacrificial chamber, where Massassi builders of the temple had sacrificed first to their gods, then later to their lord, the man who had started the great Sith war thousand of years earlier. There was an evil taint in the room, so thick that one inhaled it with ever breath. It was strong, far stronger than anywhere else in the archaic temple.

Ventress lunged venomously at Anakin as soon as they entered, no doubt feeding off of the dark energies of the room. She cackled maliciously, no doubt assuring herself that the tide was about to turn. She was confident that she possessed the strength to bend the dark power fully to her will and unleash it in a storm great enough to destroy even the Chosen One.

Hot anger began to rise in Anakin's heart, fighting to escape its deep prison. This murderous woman had taken Padmé, his beautiful wife. She had hurt her, and had the audacity to mock him about his loss. Now she believed that despite all of that, she was going to escape unscathed. She believed that she was going to cut him down.

_What do you believe?_ A voice asked him. The voice was not his own.

_I believe that she has sealed her fate._

An explosion of searing flame consumed Anakin's reservations. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Ventress launched a furious attack with her two blades, swinging so fast that she seemed to be encased in light. The Jedi barely moved, his one blade picking off every single strike, transforming Ventress's deadly attack into a sequence of useless swings. Ventress yelled in agonized fury as she tried to summon more power, but the dark energies of the Temple seemed to be deserting her …

Time had slowed down for Anakin. He could trace the path of every one of Ventress's swings as they became more sporadic and strained. All he needed was one moment to act … and there it was.

Anakin caught Ventress's left hand blade near the base of the emitter with a full-two handed swing. The crushing power of the blow knocked the weapon from her hand, sending it spiraling into the air. Ventress disengaged from her opponent and reached up for her weapon, intent on summoning it back to her. The silver hilt flashed in the light as it tumbled down …

Right into Anakin's outstretched hand.

The Jedi Knight smiled, and the red blade sprang into existence in his left hand.

"My turn."

Anakin moved so fast that it was impossible for Ventress to follow him with her eyes. Red and blue intermingled in an impenetrable cage of light as he began a furious attack, utterly destroying any semblance of parity between them. Ventress tried in desperation to regain her lost sense of power, but she found only mocking emptiness. The ancient Sith energies had abandoned her. They were now aiding the Jedi.

Anakin drove Ventress back towards the base of the altar, trapping her there like an animal. There was nowhere to run. The possessed Knight ripped his red blade across from right to left, intercepting Asajj's weapon and pushing it hopelessly out of position. Ventress tried to throw herself back, but it was too late.

Anakin's blue blade scythed down. Ripping through flesh, cartilage, and bone, it severed Ventress's right leg at the knee. The Sith disciple screamed in pain and crashed to the ground at the base of the altar. Anakin casually flicked his left wrist, sending Ventress's remaining weapon flying into the corner and out of reach.

Asajj seized the freshly cauterized stump as the shock of losing her leg coursed through her body. Her two vornskrs, in cages near the far wall, howled in distress. Asajj tried to sit up, but failed. Anakin placed his boot on his chest brutally shoved her back down, placing both blades at her throat.

Asajj glared hatefully up at her conqueror. For the third time, Skywalker had bested her. She expected to see triumph there, the sense of accomplishment that comes with defeating such a notorious enemy. But the victorious Jedi was not reveling in his victory; he was more concerned with a far more important issue. Seeing a chance, Asajj's eyes flickered towards her caged beasts. Anakin noticed.

"Don't even think about it, Ventress," he snapped. "It's over. Where's Padmé?"

Asajj curled her lip and spat at him. "Go to hell, Skywalker."

Anakin smiled faintly. There was something inherently terrifying about it.

"Let's see then," he said acidly. "First the left eye …"

The blue blade moved up from Ventress's throat, positioning itself over her eye. Anakin slowly moved the blade down, preparing to incinerate his prisoner's ocular orbit.

Ventress's heart seized in fear. "Wait!"

Anakin's blade halted millimeters away from her face. "Yes?"

Ventress's eyes flickered towards the right wall. "There! Over there!"

Lining the wall was a series of cells, the nearest of which drew the Jedi's attention. His anger quickly morphing into apprehension, he released Ventress and moved over to the cell's control panel. Eyes flashing, he rounded back towards his defeated, prostrate enemy.

"Password?"

"Ventress swallowed. "Alpha-two-eight-seven-gamma."

Anakin entered the code. The door slid open, and without another glance back at Ventress he entered the cell.

His hear froze in horror. "Padmé …"

There was a clatter as both of Anakin's weapons fell to the floor. The Jedi Knight dove forward and pulled his wife into his arms. "Padmé, oh my God, Padmé!"

Padmé's head lolled listlessly, her body completely limp. Her once-elegant dress was torn and filthy, now little more than rags. It was stained with something dark that appeared to blood. Her pristine skin was bruised, scratched, and covered with dirt. Everywhere along her body, signs of horrendous treatment were visible. She felt light in his arms, much lighter than he remembered. Only the slight rising and falling over her breast told her husband that she was still alive.

Tears welling in his eyes, Anakin tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from Padmé's face. "Padmé, please wake up! Please …"

Padmé's eyelids flickered. They opened slowly, revealing her wondrous brown eyes, haunted by the ghosts of despair and pain. "A … Ani?"

Anakin immediately crushed her into an embrace. "Oh, Padmé, thank the Force! I thought I'd lost you! You were lying there, so still …"

The hopelessness that had marked Padmé's face faded away, replaced by unconditional love. "That's you, Anakin? You're here? You're really here?"

Anakin hugged her even tighter. "Yes, Angel, I'm here. I'm right here with you."

"You came," Padmé whispered. "I knew you'd come …"

Anakin pressed his lips to hers and kissed her fiercely. "Of course I came, Angel. You're my life. I can't live without you!"

Slowly, Padmé raised her hand and brought it up to Anakin's cheek, caressing the side of his face and down his neck. "She said you'd never find me, but you did …"

Anakin ran his fingers through Padmé's long, intricate hair. Hot tears were falling freely down his face. "Nothing would have stopped me from finding you, Angel. Nothing."

Padmé smiled tenderly, but suddenly her expression became one of fear. "Ani," she whispered. "She knows. She discovered them."

Anakin's heart contracted painfully. "What, Angel? Who's them?"

"Our children, Ani," Padmé said softly. "Twins, beautiful twins. Look."

She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. Anakin reached into the Force and sure enough he could feel two lives there. They eagerly reached back towards him, recognizing their father's touch. Anakin looked at his wife.

"You're right," he exclaimed wondrously. "There are two, a boy and a girl. We were both right."

Padmé gave him a small smile, then despair once more claimed her features. Tears fell from her eyes. "They're in danger, Ani. That woman found out about them. She could have told Sidious …"

Anakin tensed. No, it wasn't possible … but Padmé wasn't lying. Nothing else could have his strong-willed wife so distraught.

"Shhhhh, Angel," he whispered, rocking her back and forth as he brushed away her tears. "Don't worry. We won't let anything happen to them, I promise you."

Padmé smiled, then suddenly began to cough, trembling violently. Anakin held her tightly. The seizure passed, and Padmé looked up at her husband.

"I'm sorry, Ani," she gasped. "I'm so sorry. I feel so weak …"

Anakin kissed her again. "I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be all right."

Padmé's brown eyes found his blue ones, the depths of their love conveyed intimately in that single glance. "I trust you, Ani. I believe …"

She broke off as another spasm of pain wracked her. Anakin could only watch helplessly until it passed. As he did, he took in everything about his wife's appearance. She was beautiful, radiant, and breathtaking as the stars. Just looking at her caused his heart rate to increase frantically, and an overwhelming sense of passionate love and protection to well up inside him. Every detail, from her soft rosy lips to her flawlessly curvaceous body, was etched permanently into his memory.

Yet … he could see the unmistakable signs of suffering. Her smooth skin was marred by angry bruises and congealed cuts, clearly inflicted out of malicious intent. Her agonized breathing told him that she had suffered internal injuries, possibly bruised or cracked ribs. Her right ankle was a bloody mess, clearly broken. She was shivering, feverish, and starved. And her eyes …one look into her eyes revealed the underlying current of pain that coursed through her, and that look shook Anakin to his core, reverberating on the deepest level of his soul. His wife, his Padmé, had been brutalized, and he hadn't been here to stop it.

Ventress had done this.

_Ventress_ had done this.

_Ventress had done this!_

That one notion rammed itself into Anakin's thoughts, banishing everything else. Anakin's concerns about his wife were suddenly consuming by an all-raging fire that roared to the pinnacle of his heart, searing along his veins until his entire body was aflame. Even as he held his wife, his hands curled into fists. His arms tensed. His teeth ground together in savage fury. His eyes hardened with unbreakable will and intent. His face became a mask of steely hatred.

_She will pay._

Padmé sensed the shift in her husband as he went from tender and loving to distant and angry. Concern flickered in her pain-filled eyes as she looked up at him.

"Ani, what's wrong?"

Anakin was not looking at her. He was staring hard at the far wall as though he could see the face of his enemy etched there, mocking him. Padmé began to feel frightened; she had never seen him like this.

"Ani, what's happening?"

Anakin looked down at her. Love forced its way through his mask as he drew in close to her, his tears gone. His caressed her cheek, then looked deeply into her eyes as he held her shoulders tightly.

"Padmé …"

. Padmé held her breath. Anakin spoke one more time, every word he spoke cementing itself firmly in her mind.

"Don't look. Don't listen."

He gently disengaged himself from her embrace and lay her down tenderly on the floor. Padmé's heart was pounding with fear now. "Ani, where are you going?"

Anakin did not respond. He stood straight up, then turned around and marched purposefully towards the door. Padmé reached out after him.

"Anakin!"

Anakin re-entered the sacrificial room.

Asajj Ventress was lying exactly where he had left her, at the base of the altar. Her face was screwed up in pain as she clutched her severed leg, but she looked up as Anakin returned. She curled her lip contemptuously, intending to mock him. Intending to laugh at what she had done to his wife, and so drive an iron stake into his heart.

Her laughter died on her lips.

Anakin was staring at her with an expression that could not be accurately described. There was no trace of emotion, though it burned within him like an inferno. There was only terrible resolve, the look of a man who had no reservations about what he was about to do.

The Jedi did not reach for his discarded lightsabers. Instead, without taking his eyes off of Ventress, he extended his hand towards the weapon rack above the raised platform. A long sword flew into his hands, with an intricately black handle and a seemingly indestructible shining silver blade. The sword caught the light, illuminating its terrifyingly sharp edges. Anakin calmly placed his real left hand on the cutting edge and ran the blade across it, slicing his skin and leaving a long trail of blood on the pristine weapon that sinisterly fell, one drop at a time, to the floor.

Ventress's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in terror. She could sense what was about to happen as surely as though it were inevitable. Desperately she tried to scramble away from the vengeful man in front of her, but her strength had fled. Her body seemed to have been turned to stone.

A low moan escaped her mouth as the Jedi advanced, the blade slowly rising in his hand.

The door behind Anakin slid shut.

* * *

Padmé shivered incessantly and wrapped her thin arms about her body to still herself. All warmth had left her when Anakin had disappeared. One moment she had been perfectly secure and content, in pain yes, but safe once again his arms, and the next it was just as before. She was cold, miserable, and alone.

Where had he gone? When was he coming back? She wanted the answers to those questions desperately, but at the same time Anakin's last words to her had entrenched themselves in her mind.

_Don't look. Don't listen._

Whatever Anakin was doing, he didn't want her to know. Why? She trusted him with all of her heart – why didn't he trust her? Was he ashamed of what he had gone to do? Did he not think that she could handle it? Or was it something else?

A cold tear ran down Padmé's cheek as she huddled on the unforgiving stone floor. She did not try to brush it away. The pain inside of her was too great? Was it happening then? Was she losing him, just like she had feared – like the vision she had briefly witnessed had foretold? Was her Ani about to become a terrible, vengeful monster? The unanswered questions were twisting a knife into Padmé's heart.

Why, oh why wouldn't he come?

One of her children kicked. Padmé moved a hand down to her womb to soothe it. She needed to make sure that her son and daughter would live – that was her overriding priority. She could feel that despite her weakness, she was going to live through her ordeal. But the children were not so strong. She could do nothing for them here. All she could do was wait, and pray that her husband would return to her.

The silence was oppressive, unbearable. The blackness was almost absolute. Padmé closed her eyes and tried desperately to reach out to Anakin, her only link to the rest of the galaxy.

Then after what seemed like an eternity, there was a grating noise of stone grinding up against stone as the door to her cell opened. A dim shaft of light came through and fell onto Padmé, but to her it was as brilliant as the stars.

She heard slow footsteps coming up behind her. "Anakin?" she whispered, reaching out a hand towards the noise.

Anakin knelt down next to her, his arms sliding around her shoulders. "I'm here, love."

"Anakin …" Padmé pulled him tightly into her arms, wanting never to let go. "I was so scared. I was worried that something might have happened to you."

"Don't worry, Angel," Anakin said quietly, his face pressed up against her ear. "I'm here. I wouldn't have left you."

Padmé sighed and ran her arms across his back. His touch was so familiar, gentle and loving …but there was something strange about it. Despite the physical recognition, there was an aura about him that was totally alien. The aura was tinged with death.

Padmé moved her hands from Anakin's back to his shoulders then down his arms. Her fingers brushed against something warm staining his tunic. The liquid clung to her fingers and ran down her hands, staining them as well. She couldn't see what it was.

"Anakin, what's going on? Why did you go?"

Anakin tensed slightly and rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "Please don't ask, Padmé. It's not important."

The mysterious fluid was on Anakin's hands as well. Padmé placed her own hand on Anakin's and guided it towards her face, into the shaft of light. Under the illumination, she subtly examined it. It was viscous and slightly sticky, but ran smoothly along his skin and hers. As the light caught their hands fully, she recognized what it was.

Blood.

Concern leapt into her throat. "Anakin, are you hurt?"

Anakin's voice caught. He seemed to be choking back a sob. "I'm fine, Angel. I'm fine."

The blood was running onto Padmé's torn clothes, but she neither noticed nor cared. "Anakin, please tell me what happened! Something's wrong, I can feel it! Does it have anything to do with Ventress? Did she attack you?"

Anakin's blue eyes shone with an indiscernible emotion as he gently cradled Padmé's head and looked right into her eyes. "She's gone, Padmé. She won't hurt you anymore. She won't hurt anyone anymore."

Anakin was holding something back, Padmé could tell. It frightened her, but she didn't want to alarm him and force him away. Tears began to gather in her eyes once more. "Anakin, I'm so glad you're all right. I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

Anakin kissed her forehead and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Shhhhh, Angel. You'll never lose me. I'll always be there for you."

Padmé sighed and sank into the comforting circle of her husband's arms. She closed her eyes and willed her worries to slip away.

Anakin closed his eyes as well as he inhaled the familiar scent of his beloved wife. But the spectre of the darkness still danced before him. As the Chosen One opened his eyes, the ghostly traces of an all-consuming flame stirred within them; a deadly hatred fueling a creature so powerful that it could forge or destroy anything it wanted – even the innermost current of life. It was the look of one who had been possessed by the Dark Side of the Force, and was waiting for the opportunity to emerge again.

The fires retreated back to the dark pit in Anakin's heart, and he tenderly soothed his wife.

"Have faith, my love. I promise you, everything will be all right."

* * *

I will send out the missing scene to those who want it as soon as I can. If something happens and you don't receive it, let me know.


	40. The Price of Treachery

Hello, everyone! Sorry about the wait. I guess that shows that I shouldn't try to keep a time table, as I really can't be trusted to keep to it. That being said, I have a couple of chapters ready for you, and here is the first. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 40**

The bridge of the _Vengeance_ went totally silent as Darth Vader emerged on the upper deck. The Sith Lord followed the Chiss agent Mirthrada Nuruodo towards the frontal command station, where Vice Admiral Thrawn stood imperiously looking through the viewport. Before them, the small lava-covered world of Mustafar hung in the blackness, orbiting its star. An utterly insignificant world in the scope of the galaxy, it had suddenly become the target of the all-powerful government. All because a few cowardly bankers and businessmen had decided to hide on its surface.

Vader turned to Thrawn. "What do we have, Admiral?"

Thrawn called up a holographic projection of the planet on the nearest console. "The planet is an unstable volcanic world, marked by frequent earthquakes and eruptions. Its indigenous inhabitants are few, namely the Mustafarians who concern themselves largely with the mining industries of lava and heavy metal. They are only moderately intelligent, and are not used to crafting art of any kind." Thrawn chuckled in amused disgust. "Barbarians."

"What of the Separatist leaders?" Vader asked.

Thrawn tapped a button, and the image zoomed in on an expansive industrial plant built directly into a large cliff. "The deposed leaders have congregated here, in this Techno Union facility. There are no external weapons, and life support readings suggest that it can hold no more than twenty guards at best. It should pose little trouble. All the same, I can arrange for a special forces squad to accompany you, should you desire the assistance."

Vader smirked. "That won't be necessary, Admiral. Is my ship ready?"

"A prototype fighter has been fueled and armed in the main hanger, My Lord. We will linger out of sensor range until you signal for extraction."

Vader nodded in approval. "Excellent. In the unlikely scenario that one of the scum manages to escape the atmosphere, do not hesitate to ionize them."

Thrawn smiled and saluted. "With pleasure, My Lord."

The Sith Lord swept from the bridge and rode the turbolift down to the main hanger. The technicians working on his craft immediately stepped back as the Sith Lord materialized behind them. Vader walked once around the fighter, examining it with a critical eye. The pilot's compartment was a spherical ball hanging in between two curved wings, both of which were covered with solar panels. It looked sleek and powerful. Vader leapt up to the top and climbed into the open hatch, sealing it behind him. The bay shields dropped, and the Dark Lord's craft shot out of the hanger, faster than he would have believed. The maneuvering capability was excellent, and its speed put the Jedi Starfighter to shame. Vader grinned. First space travel, and now he was actually beginning to enjoy piloting. What next?

The craft's twin ion engines howled as he swept towards the small, lava-covered world. Far below, the last of the Separatists leaders waited unexpectedly, envisioning their promised "reward".

Vader's savage grin widened. He was _so_ going to enjoy this.

* * *

The heated argument shook Sabé Naberrie out of her uneasy doze. Blinking to adjust her eyes of the light, she turned in the pilot's chair to observe R2-D2 and C-3PO sniping at each other. It was not apparent what the argument was about, but it was clear who was winning.

"No, you dolt, I do not need my cognitive functions checked," Threepio snapped. "I merely pointed out to you that changing hyperspace coordinates in mid-jump is an extremely foolish and dangerous thing to do! Do you want us to crash into an asteroid belt?"

R2-D2 bleated that the procedure he had performed would get them to their destination sooner. It was not his fault that Threepio was too skittish to accept that Artoo knew what he was doing.

"That was uncalled for, you malfunctioning scrap pile," Threepio exclaimed. "I will have you know …"

"Enough," Sabé said irritably. "Both of you. What's done is done."

Threepio started. "Miss Sabé, we didn't realize that you were awake!" He turned back to his friend. "Look what you've done! Your incessant twittering has disturbed the lady's rest!"

Artoo whistled something very rude. Threepio, looking highly affronted, prepared to launch into a tirade that ended abruptly when Sabé clapped a hand over his mouth.

"I said enough," she said sternly. "No offense, Threepio, but being a master of however many million forms of communication, I'm surprised that Artoo here was able to get you so riled."

The little droid tootled smugly and rolled off. Threepio followed him, muttering disgruntledly. "We're not finished, Artoo-Detoo. As I was saying …"

Sabé rolled her eyes and returned to the pilot's seat. Maybe she shouldn't have brought the droids, but as they had been the ones who had informed her of the conversation, she had felt indebted to them.

The droids had been down in the security station, trying to filter the damaged recordings and discover who had kidnapped Padmé. Sabé had spent hours with them, fruitlessly scanning endless footage. But they had managed to catch nothing but an indeterminate shadow. Finally, exhausted, she had gone up to bed, while the droids volunteered to continue the search. Eventually, even they had been forced to give up.

As they were returning to Sabé's quarters, they had passed an open door leading into a side hallway. Bail had been engrossed in a discussion with Breha and Captain Antilles. Artoo had tapped into the security cameras, and he had overheard the Senator informing his wife and the captain of the Empire's latest movements. Most had been inconsequential, but a reliable source had discovered that one of the three Star Destroyers that had subdued Chandrila had departed into hyperspace, heading for a small planet in the Outer Rim called Mustafar. The man commanding the ship had been none other than Darth Vader.

Sabé had wasted no time. As soon as the droids had told her about the conversation, she had rushed them to the hanger, taken a ship and, over Threepio's protests, left for Mustafar.

She didn't know why she had done it. There were several possible reasons. The most logical was that the Emperor had given his servant an important mission, and he had left to complete it. If she could ascertain what the mission was, she could provide crucial information about the Empire's plans to the Alliance.

Then there was the dutiful reason. Padmé was her closest friend, and she was responsible for her. If Padmé had disappeared, then the Empire was likely behind it somehow. She might discover some information on Padmé's kidnapper if she went to Mustafar. She could then relay it to Anakin and aid him in his search.

But there was another reason; one that Sabé found herself reluctant to admit. It was so utterly and completely irrational that if she were to voice it, her friends would believe that she had gone mad. But even as she sought to bury it, she knew it was the true motive of her journey.

She had to see him.

Vader … no, _Obi-Wan_ … was on Mustafar. This might be the only she chance she would have to speak with him when they were not openly on opposite sides. Padmé's words had profoundly affected her, and the more she whispered them to herself, the more she believed them.

There was still good in him. It was just below the surface, and if she worked hard enough, she could draw it out. There was a chance that she could bring him back to the light, and he could become her Obi-Wan again. Things would not be the same as she had envisioned, but at least she would be with him.

Of course, there was a chance that her dreams could be nothing but a lie. Obi-Wan might order her to be captured, or even have her killed. He had cut down his former friends in the Jedi Temple; why would he not do the same to her? So why was she risking her life?

_Because I love him. And I know that despite everything that's happened, he still loves me._

Sabé's vision suddenly grayed, and she felt dizzy. It took a minute for her to master herself. She had been having these strange moments ever since the escape from Coruscant. She didn't know what the cause was, but it was probably related to lack of sleep.

The feeling passed, and Sabé checked the chronometer. She would revert to real space soon. However, she had no idea what awaited her in the system. She might be captured as soon as she arrived. Her ship had a hyperspace transmitter; she should tell someone where she was going before she got herself into a situation where she had no lifeline to the rest of the galaxy.

She had no idea where Anakin was, but she had his personal comm channel. She could contact him that way, and see if he had any news of Padmé.

Sabé activated the hyperspace transmitter, broadcasting a wide-range signal on the familiar channel. "Anakin? Are you there?"

* * *

Back on his borrowed ship, Anakin collapsed into the pilot's chair, utterly drained and considerably shaken. Padmé lay on a reasonably soft bed in the ship's only bedroom, sleeping soundly. As soon as he had gotten her out of the temple, Anakin had performed the most comprehensive medical exam he could. Despite the obvious signs of the terrible treatment she had endured, none of her injuries were life-threatening. As soon as he had learned that his wife and unborn children were out of immediate danger, Anakin had felt as though a twenty-ton weight had been lifted from him. He had not been too late; the damage that they had suffered could be repaired.

The damage that he had suffered, however, was another matter entirely.

After he had cleaned Padmé's cuts and set her broken ankle, Anakin had sealed himself in the pilot's compartment, needing isolation to work out what had happened to him. The images were assailing him without mercy, burying him in a discordant avalanche of confusion, rage, and pain. Slowly, Anakin sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus on step at a time.

The entire duel with Ventress played before his eyes at lightning speed. It quickly gave way to his discovery of Padmé, and then to his …revenge. The sound of Ventress's desperate screams still reverberated in his ears, and he could feel her warm blood running over his hands, through his fingers. Anakin clenched his hands reflexively. Despite the fact that the blood had washed away easily with a little water, he felt as though they had been permanently stained. _He_ had been permanently stained. If Mace Windu or Yoda _ever_ found out what he had done, they would throw him out of the Order, Chosen One or not.

Yet the dark half of his soul spoke the truth: if faced with the same situation, he would do it again. What Ventress had done to his wife was unforgivable.

Anakin allowed his mind to move to what had happened afterwards. He had carried Padmé's limp body out of her cell and through the temple. He had fastened a piece of cloth over her face as they had passed through the sacrificial chamber, unwilling to let her see. She had been too weak to resist. The two surviving vornskrs in their cages, growling fiercely at the sight of Padmé, had whimpered and recoiled in fear as Anakin moved past them. There had only been a few signs of the horrifying act that had taken place there minutes earlier, and one of those now rested in a small pouch on the floor of the cockpit. Anakin cast a glance at it, then abruptly turned away.

The memory of the dark presence that had spoken to him returned. The invisible malice had told Anakin that the trial he would face in the Temple would move him one step further on the path to his inevitable destiny. Could this mean that the Jedi had been wrong? What if he was not destined to destroy the Sith, but join them? What if he was not meant to bring balance to the Force, but tip it inevitably towards darkness?

Vader had promised that Anakin would join him. Never had that picture looked more like reality.

Anakin buried his face in his hands. Mace had told him that when a person was so utterly conflicted that their soul was practically rent in two, that the Force would help show them the right path. But now, as he desperately sought its guidance, it was utterly silent.

He was barely aware of guiding his ship up through the atmosphere, away from the world that had brought him nothing but pain. As he gazed out at the millions of stars, a sense of detachment filled him. Once, he had vowed he would visit all of them. Now, not one of them seemed to offer any sense of belonging.

As he sat there, his comlick suddenly buzzed.

Anakin activated it. "Skywalker," he forced out.

"Anakin, is that you?"

Anakin straightened in his chair. "Sabé?"

"Yes, it's me. I've been trying to reach you. I needed to tell you something."

"What, Sabé?"

"First, do you have any news of Padmé?"

Anakin's throat tightened. "Yes. I found her."

Joy and relief flooded Sabé's voice. "Anakin, thank the Force! I was so worried about her! Is she all right? Who took her? Where are you?"

"We're leaving Yavin 4 now, Sabé. Asajj Ventress had captured her and imprisoned her there."

"Ventress?" Sabé gasped. "That witch! I thought she was dead! Are you two all right? Did you defeat her?"

"She's dead, Sabé," Anakin said flatly. "I wasn't injured."

"What about Padmé?" Sabé asked apprehensively.

Anakin struggled to speak. "She's …"

There was a small note of panic in Sabé's voice now. "What Anakin? Tell me, please!"

"She's … She's been tortured, Sabé."

A noise that sounded like a stifled scream came over the channel. "Oh my God! Why? What kind of evil …How could anyone do that to her?"

"I don't know, Sabé," Anakin said, the words burning his mouth. "When I saw her, I …"

He broke off. Sabé wouldn't understand, anymore than Padmé would.

"She's sleeping now. She's not in immediate danger. What was your other reason for calling?"

Sabé seemed taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but knew better than to press him. "I wanted to let you know where I was going. I'm heading for Mustafar."

Anakin frowned. He had heard of it, a remote world in the Outer Rim covered by lava. There was little of interest there. "Why?"

"The surviving Separatist leaders are in hiding on the surface. And I heard that … I heard that Obi-Wan has been sent there."

Anakin tensed, snapping to attention. "Sabé, are you sure?"

"Positive. I overheard Senator Organa discussing it. Anakin, I have to talk to him. He can be saved."

_He can be saved._

Anakin didn't know what to make of that statement. He wanted to believe it with all his heart, but after what had just happened, the darkness seemed far too formidable to contest in his own soul, let alone Obi-Wan's, which had been almost completely consumed.

"Sabé," he said finally, "I don't think you should do this. It's too dangerous. Padmé would never forgive me if something happened to you."

A hint of defiance came into Sabé's tone. "A lot of people would have claimed that half the missions you have undertaken over the years have been too dangerous, Anakin. But you attempted them anyway, because you had to. I have to do this. I have to try to bring him back. Don't you, Anakin? He's your best friend – you've been closer to him than anyone for thirteen years. He would do the same for you."

Anakin closed his eyes. It was true. He knew that if he had been taken in by Sidious and turned to the Dark Side of the Force, Obi-Wan would have gone to any lengths to try to return him to the light. Why was he afraid to try to save his brother?

Because he knew the consequences of failure. He knew that if he was unable to best Vader, he would fall. He would become a mockery of all that he had stood for. The rage that he had embraced to destroy Ventress would utterly consume him. He would become the very thing he had sworn to destroy.

_If it were anyone other than Obi-Wan …_

A short time ago, he had been willing to brave the darkness to save Padmé. Would he now descend into its heart to save the man who had been closer to him than any brother could ever be?

"Anakin," Sabé said seriously. "We have to take chances to save what we love. Otherwise all that we claim to stand for is a lie." She paused. "I'm going to Mustafar, Anakin. No matter what I find there, I will know that this was the right thing to do. Give my best to Padmé."

Before the Jedi could respond, Sabé disconnected the line.

Anakin sat still as a statue, his hand on the hyperspace lever. The coordinates for Alderaan were already entered into the navicomputer. That was the path to safety; safety for Padmé, for his children, and for his own soul.

What did he really fear to face the most? The darkness that had consumed his friend, or the darkness that resided in himself?

When had the Hero Without Fear suddenly become so aware of his own mortality?

Anakin's eyes turned towards the door. Through that portal to the main cabin was Padmé, the most important person in his life. His angel, his savior. She was injured, but her life was not in danger. Neither were the lives of their children. All the same, he wanted desperately to get her medical attention.

_We have to take chances to save what we love._

He loved Padmé more than anything in the universe. He could never risk her life, no matter what it cost him. He had been willing to go to the heart of the darkness to save her. Could he turn back now, and challenge that yawning void once more to save the man he called a friend, a mentor, and a brother? He might never get another opportunity.

Anakin closed his eyes and listened to his most fundamental instinct. What it told him left no room for debate.

His fingers moved to the navicomputer, erasing the previous set of coordinates and entering new ones. He gathered every reassuring emotion he could muster and sent it back to the cabin along the bond he shared with his wife. Then he pulled the lever.

As the stars elongated, Anakin kept his eyes closed and slightly prayed to whatever high power who would listen that he was not making a mistake.

* * *

Hot gases swirled menacingly outside the viewport as Darth Vader guided his fighter down through Mustafar's turbulent atmosphere. The Sith Lord was fully absorbed in his task; unlike Anakin, he could not accomplish such a feat effortlessly. The corrosive steam pressed down onto the welded seams of the craft, trying to find a weak point at which to burn through. But the technicians had done their job well, and the boiling exhaust was kept out of the cockpit.

Vader's eyes narrowed as he took in what he could about the landscape: all twisted black cliffs, craggy volcanoes, and coursing rivers of lava. What a hellish place. It was little wonder that the Separatists had chosen to hide here; most sentiment beings would be unable to endure more than an hour in such conditions. But on the scale of torments that Vader had encountered in his life, Mustafar was relatively low. It certainly wasn't going to inhibit him on his mission.

A hulking fortress came into view on a cliff overlooking a large lava lake. Several slowly rotating arms extended from the base, each bearing a huge shield generator protecting the base from the worst of the elements. Just beyond the nearest arm was a small landing platform. Vader guided his ship onto the docking area and touched down.

The scorching winds assailed him as soon as he opened the hatch, blowing ashes and hot embers into his face. Vader smoothly climbed out of the cockpit, jumped down to the platform, and raised the hood on his cloak to keep the stinging wind and dust at bay. There was no one on the platform save a few service droids, which was to be expected. He had not announced his arrival and even if he had, the sheltered business moguls he was to deal with would likely not have been willing to brave the elements. Cowardly fools, all of them.

Vader marched across the platform towards the door, which opened for him automatically. He slid inside. A narrow black corridor stretched in front of him, at the end of which he could hear voices. Vader hastened towards the sounds, pulling out his lightsaber as he went.

Nute Gunray, Shu Mai, Wat Tambor, San Hill and all the other surviving leaders of the Confederacy of Independent Systems were huddled around a large holoprojector, conducting an assessment of their remaining assets when a cloaked man appeared, advancing purposefully towards them. They looked up eagerly as he passed through the doorway, stopping just below the arch. The armored Nemoidian guards flanking the portal tensed and brought their charged force pikes up to chest level, their blank orange eyes warily and menacingly focusing on the newcomer. Gunray impatiently waved his hand, indicating that they should stand down. Then he pushed the corners of his cold, lizard-like mouth up into a smile.

"Welcome, Lord Vader. We have been expecting you."

Vader did not respond. The attempt at intimidation by the guards had had absolutely no effect on him. Neither had the Viceroy's oily welcome. Gunray's smile slowly began to disappear as he sensed a shift in the air of the room. It carried a whisper of cold malice.

The Dark Lord of the Sith extended a gloved hand towards the far exit. With a casual yet purposeful wave of his fingers, the iron gate rolled down from the top and slammed shut with an echoing bang. Vader shifted his hand, and the gate to his left likewise sealed itself.

The Separatist leaders looked around in confusion. Gunray took a step away from Vader, fear discernable on his reptilian face. "W … What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?"

Shu Mai and San Hill tried to move towards the still-open door on the right. Vader's eyes flickered towards it, and the metal portal closed in front of them.

Mai and Hill rushed towards the one remaining exit, the one behind Vader, joined by Rune Hakko and Wat Tamborr. With an irreversible clang, the gate slid down into the floor, locking the room's nearly twenty occupants inside.

The lids of Gunray's eyes were now flickering incessantly, a species gesture that indicated impending terror. "Lord Vader, what …?"

A terrible smile formed on Vader's lips.

"Justice, Viceroy, is inescapable."

The Nemoidian guards immediately lunged at the Sith Lord, the crackling tips of their weapons seeking his heart.

Vader ignited his lightsaber and severed all four of their arms with one swing. In a movement too fast for the eye to follow, he spun around and sliced through their necks, sending two helmeted heads tumbling to the floor.

Utter chaos was unleashed.

The Separatist leaders dove away from the vengeful darksider as fast as their quaking legs could carry them. Not fast enough for some. Vader caught both Passel Argente, the Magistrate of the Commerce Guild, and his chief assistant on his blade and slashed furiously. The aliens' bodies collapsed to the floor in diced sections.

The Nemoidian Guards flanking the other exits rushed Vader, mindlessly seeking to overwhelm him with sheer brute force. It took only about five seconds to prove how incompetent their strategy was. Cauterized arms, legs, and heads fell to the floor in an incoherent jumble, the bodies they had once been attached to falling heavily at the feet of their invincible adversary. Six guards charged Vader. Six guards fell.

San Hill flung himself at the nearest door, trying to smash it open with his emaciated body. Failing to dent the hardened metal, he beat the controls furiously with his fists in a display of utter desperation. He barely noticed as Vader stepped up behind him and thrust his lightsaber into his body, ripping his life away.

Vader knocked the body of ex-head of the Intergalactic Banking Clan out of his path and advanced on his next victim. Rune Hakko stumbled backwards, slowly retreating into a corner. His terror-stricken eyes sought Vader's, which had shifted their hue from clear blue to a loathsome yellow. That same terrible smile was still on his lips, and it widened, showing teeth.

Rune Hakko sobbed for breath. "No!" he gasped. "No!"

Vader stabbed him ruthlessly through the windpipe. "Denial does not earn you forgiveness, you quivering worm."

He wrenched his blade free and let Rune Hakko fall to the floor. A screaming aide cut across his path; Vader stuck out his blade at waist level and let the creature bisect itself. Then he spun around, decapitating the Geonosian leader Poggle the Lesser in one swing.

Po Ando, the traitorous Senator from Ando, had reached the communications console and was calling desperately over the emergency channel. "Mayday, Mayday! We are under attack! The Sith …"

Vader's hand shot out and tightened into a fist. The Aqualish gagged and tried to speak, but was unable to continue his plea. An enormous quantity of blood spilled from his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he toppled to the floor. Without pause, Vader moved towards the next leader.

Shu Mai was scrabbling backwards across the floor, her expensive dress torn and dirty and her headdress askew. As Vader towered over her, she pleaded with him.

"This isn't what was supposed to happen! Lord Sidious promised us a handsome reward!"

Vader tilted his head slightly and smirked. "I'm your reward. You don't find me handsome?"

Shu Mai opened her mouth and closed it, unable to comprehend what the Dark Lord had said. Vader carelessly slashed her across the chest, sparing himself from her reply.

The few battle droids that the Separatists had brought into the command center were firing their blasters at the Sith as rapidly as they could. Their efforts were wasted; every shot was deflected back at its caster with increased velocity, blowing the metal soldiers into scrap. One actually rushed Vader, only to have its head blown free of its body by a stiff Force push. As the droid fell, the Separatist leader it had been protecting, Wat Tambor of the Techno Union, was exposed. As Vader closed in on him, a shaft of light fell across the Sith Lord's face, exposing his malevolent features. Tambor gasped.

"You … you are Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

Vader's eyes blazed with fury and he slashed upwards, cutting Tambor cleanly in half along his spine.

"Appearances can be deceiving."

Purely hellish fire streamed from Vader's eyes, far surpassing the intensity of the turbulent planet he had single-handedly conquered. Slowly, he turned towards the conference room adjacent to the main control center, where the last obstacle to his reign was cowering.

Nute Gunray retreated as far as he could, until his back touched the unforgiving steel of the table. Despair and unshakeable fear consumed his once-calculating features as the demon Sith reached him, stopping less than a saber's strike away. A trembling, imploring voice escaped Gunray's lips.

"The war is over! Lord Sidious … promised us peace! We only want …"

Vader ripped his blade through Gunray's chest faster than the eyes could follow. The Nemoidian Viceroy's eyes dimmed, and a rattling death hiss forced its way out of his destroyed lungs before he collapsed to the floor at the feet of his conqueror.

Vader stepped over the dead creature, treading contemptuously on his robes.

"The transmission was garbled. He promised you'd be left in pieces."

* * *

Coruscant. Night. The capital world of the galaxy was in ceaseless motion, reflecting the lifestyles of its over 1 trillion inhabitants. No matter what the hour, there were always millions of beings moving from place to place, and billions more settling in to perform some activity out of the public eye.

But this sector, the one that housed the famed Senate Chamber, was relatively quiet.

The main entrance to the indestructible dome was guarded by over fifty red-robed royal guards and several hundred clone troops. Gunships patrolled ceaselessly overhead. The side entrances were not as impressively guarded, but Royal Guards and clone troops were still visible at every entrance an exit, forming an impenetrable barrier around the governing body of the galaxy – and the new Emperor.

At a small service entrance on the west side, only four clone guards were on duty. They worked in seamless shifts, two scanning the northern approach while the other two watched the south. With their specialized heat and life sensors in their visors, they missed nothing.

Yet they could not watch the shadows.

As the soldiers scanned the horizon, two extensions of the darkness broke free of the surrounding medium and advanced towards the unsuspecting troops; one from the north, and the other from the south. The soldiers reached the end of their scan and began to sweep back around. The shadows moved again.

One of the soldiers on the north patrol registered something barely perceptible move a few meters away. Despite its apparent insignificance, he moved in for a closer look, his deadly blaster rifle raised and ready. The night-vision filters in his visor cut through the darkness, only to reveal nothing more than a trail through the refuse, likely a mark of a granite slug or some ground-dwelling rodent. The clone relaxed his guard slightly and moved back to continue his patrol.

A silver arm shot out of the darkness, wrapping itself around the soldier's throat. The clone gasped and tried to pull away, but the vice-like grip was far too strong to escape. In less than five seconds, the lack of oxygen to the soldier's brain reached a critical level, and the clone slumped in his assailant's grasp, unconscious.

The finely-tuned senses of the clone's patrol mate alerted him to the barely audible sound of his comrade's gasp. The trooper's rifle snapped up to firing position and he watched through his scope for any sign of danger. But just as he zeroed in through the scope and spotted the inert body of his squad mate, an invisible force gripped him and cracked his helmeted head against an extended durasteel beam. The clone joined his companion on the ground.

The hiss of static over the comm channel alerted the southern guards that something was wrong. They were about to rush north to determine the source of the disturbance, but the sudden movement of something in the darkness nearby caused them to round about, blasters raised. They were just able to discern the outline of a small figure, about knee height, before a wave of invisible energy swept over them. They keeled over like drunks in a cheap bar.

The small hooded figure moved into the dim light emanating from the glow rod above the service door. He beckoned urgently, and his taller companion emerged from the north near the two soldiers he had downed. The smaller figure made a motion towards the clones, and the tall man nodded. He indicated the door. The cloaked companions moved towards the sealed portal, casting furtive looks about them. There was no sign that their actions had alerted anyone. Satisfied, the taller man pulled a silver-hilted weapon from his belt and thumbed the ignition switch, causing a beam of purple light to surge into existence. He shielded the glow with his body, then pushed the blade of his weapon into the door, pulling it around it a perfect circle. The metal hissed and melted, but no alarm was triggered. His work finished, the tall man pushed the metal circle through the door, then motioned to his companion. The smaller being jumped nimbly through the hole. The tall man followed, and the circle of metal rose back into door, sealing the entrance.

Safe in the service corridor, the infiltrators pulled off their hoods, revealing the dark, intense features of Master Mace Windu and the calm, green, and wrinkled countenance of Master Yoda.

The two Jedi did not waste time congratulating each other on their successful entrance. Instead, Mace pulled out a datapad depicting a map of the palace and a highlighted route, with blue dots denoting the security stations and the Emperor's private office marked by a large red X below the floor of the Senate Chamber. He showed the map to Yoda, who nodded silently and proceeded down the corridor as rapidly as his cane would allow.

Mace stowed the datapad back in his robes and followed his elder companion towards the heart of the building. Whatever awaited them at the cradle of corruption, they would face it head on and they would defeat it … or they would die trying.


	41. A Light in the Void

**Chapter 41**

The suffocating clouds of smog rolled across the sky, smothering the horizon in their noxious embrace. Refuse from Mustafar's thousands of volcanoes was thrust endlessly into the sky, constantly feeding and strengthening the life-choking curtain of smoke. High above, light from the distant sun forced its way through, casting its reddish silhouette through the smog. The desolate red eye surveyed the planet, a malevolent guardian of the unholy landscape. Its subjects, the iron mountains, the ash-covered plains and the boiling rivers of magma, silently endured the baleful stare which relentlessly skewered them. The native Mustafarians toiled on with their work of harvesting the molten lava, oblivious to everything: the sun, the hot winds, the ash, the deaths of their leaders, and their own perpetual suffering.

On a platform high above, Darth Vader stood silently observing the forsaken realm. The searing wind tore at his face and rippled the hood of his cloak, angrily trying to tear him from his lofty perch and hurl him into the depths of the fire far below. But Vader was immovable. He remained still, surveying his domain. Lord of the Fire. Lord of the Darkness. Lord of the Abyss.

Lord of Death.

Vader's lips parted into a barely visible grimace. He was immersed in the titanic ocean of his own power. But while such omnipotence was invigorating, it was also oppressive. He had predicted when he reached such a level, he would be perfectly secure with the direction that his destiny had taken him. The lingering reservations that had survived the scathing purge of his mind would have long since disappeared, all but forgotten but for a whisper of a memory. Yet his life was not how he had envisioned. He felt like he was encased in a suit of unbreakable armor, utterly invulnerable and unassailable. Even as he sneered at the collective impunity of all those who dared to oppose him, the armor was slowly, ever so slowly crushing him. He was losing himself in the suffocating darkness, and though the heart of his very being was being confined to an eternally shrinking space, it was becoming much more difficult to find. Soon it would disappear entirely, and all that would be left was the suit of armor. He would not be a man, but a symbol. A _symbol_ of darkness. A _symbol_ of hate. A _symbol_ of death.

He could still discern the faint window of escape. That window had once connected him to the greatest sense of purpose in his life, but now it lead out into a void. When he had rejected everything he had once stood for, he had cut his lifeline to the past. He had turned his back on the window, on the light, believing that it had nothing further to offer him. An internal voice whispered to him, warning him that it was the only way to salvation, and to a new path. Vader didn't want to follow a new path. He wanted to forge his own. But as he gradually became the darkness he sought to pass through, he lost sight of his destination. He _became_ the path, became the darkness, and was so doomed to wander eternally in the shadows. He somehow knew that if he could not swallow hard and take the route to escape soon, it would be closed to him forever.

Maybe that was why the whispers in his mind would not go away.

Maybe that was why Obi-Wan Kenobi refused to die.

Vader's grimace intensified, his face openly contorting with pain. He closed his eyes; he could not bear to look upon his dominion. If he had not quashed Kenobi, he would be dead now. There was no way that the Jedi Master could have extracted them from the hellhole into which they had fallen. He, Vader, had saved himself from dishonor, and from death. How could listening to the very voices that had led him into despair possibly save him now?

The red burned through his eyelids even as he tried to shun it. He could not extricate himself from his surroundings, anymore than it seemed he could extricate himself from weakness. If Kenobi could not be destroyed, he needed to be banished. Suppressed. Forced ever downwards, until his voice was so distant it could no longer be heard. Yet the task was equally impossible. Could it be that he didn't _want_ to banish Kenobi? Could it be that he took solace in their duality?

No. He was being irrational. He would not be so defined. If the path to the light led to pain, and the path to darkness led to nothingness, then he would rise above both. The lesson that Sidious had taught him - the one that had allowed him to free himself when the Force had been stripped from him – was that if he had the right motivation, he could overcome any barrier. He would find the right motivation. He would rise above the Jedi's teachings, and above Sidious's. He would rise above everything. He would find the empty plane to which no mortal had ever ascended, and establish himself there. He would lead others to follow him, and all would be well. Nothing would ever limit him again.

Such visions were within his grasp. But they were for the future. The present offered only trial and suffering, which had to be endured to ensure success. The fires would harden him, make him stronger. He would not have it any other way.

_It doesn't have to be like this …_

Vader opened his eyes, adjusting himself once more to the endless, hellish view of Mustafar. He would not turn his back on the window that led to the light – not yet. He would not place such limits on himself again. But no one - _no one_ - would force him down that path. If he took it, it would be of his own volition. It would be an admission that what he had aspired to be was impossible.

Setting his jaw, he turned his back on the blood-red horizon and headed for the door leading back to the control center. His master would want a report on the success of his mission.

* * *

The holoprojector hissed and sputtered, the inner mechanisms working hard to establish a connection signal. A few seconds later, the attempt succeeded. A life-size image of Emperor Palpatine appeared before Darth Vader, seated on an ornate throne. Though he wore his hood as always, it no longer masked his features. Palpatine's hideously deformed face was stretched into a wide, malevolent grin.

"Ah, my loyal apprentice," he exclaimed delightedly. "I sense that you bear good news. How went your mission?"

Vader stood stiffly before his master, his hood also raised. His arms were crossed across his chest, tucked into the folds of his cloak. His eyes were flat and his face expressionless as he imparted his information. "The Separatists have been taken care of, My Master."

Palpatine nodded. "It is finished then. You have restored peace and justice to the galaxy. You have done well, Lord Vader."

Vader inclined his head. "Thank you, My Master."

The Emperor's morbid smile faded, his face and his tone becoming serious. "I will recall you to Coruscant. But first, send a message to the ships of the Trade Federation. Tell them the Separatist leaders have been wiped out. All droid units must shut down - immediately."

Vader smiled slightly. "Yes, Master. First, however, I must ask – have you any news of Anakin?"

The Emperor's face became inscrutable. Vader reached out with his senses, and felt his master probing the Force. Palpatine's voice sounded distant as he spoke.

"I can feel him … something has happened. Something monumental. He is tumultuous, conflicted. His mind his full of agony, guilt … and anger. He is vulnerable … and yet he has never been stronger."

The cryptic readout of his Master's perceptions was not good enough for Vader. "My Lord, what does this mean? Could Anakin have located Ventress faster than we thought?"

Palpatine frowned, and snake-like veins bulged in his neck. "If he has, then so much the better for us. What he will have found will have unsettled him, and undermined his last remaining connections to the ruins of the Jedi Order. The Force is leading your paths into convergence once more, Lord Vader. You will have another chance to sway him."

Vader felt a rush of adrenaline invade his system. "Soon, My Lord?"

"Very soon."

Vader was silent. The implications of his Master's words were besieging him like a violent hurricane. The destiny he had envisioned, the level of ability he aspired to, could be closer than he had thought.

Palpatine's ravaged orange eyes pierced through the air to strike his apprentice. "I trust you understand what is at stake here, Lord Vader. I leave you will the expectation that when we see each other again, Anakin Skywalker will have been brought completely into the fold."

Vader smiled stolidly. "Very good, My Lord."

Satisfied, the Emperor terminated the link.

Vader allowed the breath that he had sucked in to slowly leave his lungs. The constricting coils that had been wrapped around his chest loosened slightly. Perhaps he was not facing imminent repression. As long as he was clearly focused and intent on pursuing a set goal, the crushing blackness that was threatening to consume his soul would be held at bay. For as long as it took to bring Anakin over, he would not be in danger of being suffocated in the viscous fluid of mindless malevolence. Then, once he had brought his former apprentice into line with his way of thinking, the expanse of possible routes to enlightenment would be considerably increased. Whatever misfortune had befallen Anakin might be the deliverance that would save them both.

He gathered his relentlessly simmering thoughts and organized them. The first order of business was to comply with his master's directive and broadcast the ultimatum to the Confederacy. Then he could blast off from this planet, return to the Vengeance, and begin his search.

Just as he finished entering the signal's frequency, however, a loud beeping from a nearby console drew his attention. Vader looked up, irritated. The display was showing an approaching ship.

Vader felt a hint of exasperation. It was likely a messenger drone from a surviving Separatist stronghold, bearing reports on the state of the Leadership Council's finances, or recently dispatched aide ignorant of the brutal extermination that had just occurred. His first instinct was to beam a transmission to Vice Admiral Thrawn, and instruct him to blow the worthless piece of scrap out of the sky.

But then registration information appeared on the display, and Vader's eyes narrowed. The ship hailed from Alderaan. Furthermore, it was of the unique interstellar design favored by the royal family. Scanners registered only one life form aboard, plus two droids. Intrigued, Vader stretched out with his perceptions. He touched on a signature … and immediately withdrew in shock. It was unmistakable, that presence. He would know it anywhere in the galaxy.

A wave of heat rushed through Vader's blood, filling his limbs and his heart with an indescribable energy. He was conscious of perspiration beginning to build on his forehead. His breathing, which had been calm just seconds ago, suddenly doubled its rate.

_What is she doing here?_

The ship had cleared the upper atmosphere. It was circling towards the base, looking for a place to land. Camera feeds showed it preparing to settle down on a platform a few hundred meters away.

Vader abruptly turned and raced towards the air lock, stepping over the dismembered body of Wat Tambor as he ran. Whatever had brought this woman from his past here, he needed to see her for himself.

* * *

The transition back to realspace was jarring, and Sabé was forced to grab onto her restraints to keep from being pitched severally forward. As the ship's momentum died, she straightened in her seat and looked out at the section of the system that had materialized before her, dominated by the pulsing, white-hot sun and the tiny red world in the center of her viewport. Mustafar.

Though those two bodies were by far the most noticeable, they were not they only objects that demanded attention. An alarmed whistle from Artoo directed Sabé's attention to the far edge of the visible space, where a colossal white battle cruiser hung like a detached arrowhead. Sabé's breath caught in her throat. Though she had never seen one before, she knew that that had to be a Star Destroyer. The information had been right. Vader was here.

"Oh my," Threepio moaned as they drifted closer to the Star Destroyer. "We're doomed. The firepower of such a vessel would overwhelm our shields in moments!"

Artoo whistled an estimate. Sabé nodded. "You're right. They've probably picked us up on their sensors. But at this distance, our profile shouldn't be distinguishable. We could be an asteroid for all they know. As long as we approach the planet carefully, they shouldn't be alarmed enough to send out fighters to investigate.

"Fighters?" Threepio echoed. "Oh dear."

Sabé gripped the controls. "Artoo, chart a course that will take us in as inconspicuously as possible."

Artoo beeped an acknowledgement, then produced the coordinates. Taking painstaking caution, Sabé followed the path across the gravity well into the outer levels of the atmosphere. The ship rattled ominously from the transition, but Sabé breathed a sigh of relief. The high metallic content of the atmosphere would mask their ship from the Star Destroyer's sensors.

Artoo whistled, indicating that he had found a place to land. As the ship passed through a thick cloud of ash and debris, a hulking facility built directly into the mountainside appeared both on sensors and through the viewport. That was it. It had to be. Sabé gently manipulated the controls, bringing the elegant craft down onto the largest unoccupied platform that she could see. As they touched down, the landing gear scraped against the metal surface of the landing area and the sound of the engines died out. They had arrived.

Sabé let out a deep breath and sank back into her seat, her hands lightly folded over her stomach. Against all odds, she had managed to get here alive and unharmed. But any triumph she might have felt was nullified by the weighty realization that the battle ahead of her now would be far more taxing. She wasn't sure that she was ready.

As she gazed numbly out of the front viewport, something caught her eye. On a distant platform something, or someone, was moving. A dark figure, silhouetted an ominous black against the blazing red of the lava geysers behind him. He was approaching at a great speed.

Sabé's breathing quickened, and her heart rate jumped ten beats a minute. It was him; she knew it with every fiber of her being. He was coming.

She pressed the release button for the hatch, then abruptly stood up and moved towards the exit. Threepio's head swiveled towards her in alarm. "Miss Sabé, where are you going?"

Artoo disengaged himself from the navigation port and followed her. Threepio groaned. "Not you too, Artoo. It's suicide."

His little friend ignored him. Muttering in distress, Threepio followed the others.

Sabé halted a few steps past the end of the ramp. The hot air assailed her lungs, a tint of sulfurous ash mingling with the oxygen and causing them to burn slightly. She shielded her eyes and looked out at where she had last seen Obi-Wan. There was no sign of him. He had disappeared.

Noises from the end of the ramp caught her attention, and she saw R2-D2 and C-3PO following her out. She waved them back. "Stay with the ship, you two."

Threepio immediately retreated, relieved. Artoo whistled in protest, but a stern look from Sabé sent him back up the ramp as well.

Sabé took another step towards the center of the platform, surveying the hellish landscape and the fiery horizon. Obi-Wan had still not materialized. Could she have been wrong? Could the dark figure not have been Obi-Wan at all? Or was he playing games with her, trying to draw her away from the safety of the ship? Sabé bit her lip anxiously, torn about what to do.

The platform groaned ominously. Sabé took a step forward, then quickly withdrew. She took another step back, and another. Was her nerve failing her? Had she come all this way for nothing?

Another step … then something seized her shoulder.

Sabé screamed and whirled around, only to find herself face to face with a towering hooded figure who a miraculously materialized between her and the ship. He angled his head to look directly at her.

"Hello Sabé."

Sabé's scream died in her throat. The face under the hood was unmistakably that of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Her heart, already pounding frantically, jumped again. "O …Obi-Wan …"

The former Jedi-turned-Sith Lord gently removed his hand from her shoulder. "I saw your ship on the scanners." He jerked his head towards the building, but did not remove his eyes from her face. "What are you doing out here?"

Sabé's voice trembled as she spoke. Whether it was from passion or fear she did not know. "I … I had to see you."

Obi-Wan raised his left eyebrow in that confident, cocksure gesture of his that made her go weak at the knees. "Did you need to travel all this way for that? I am hardly an obscure figure; surely one of your intelligence friends could have procured a picture of me."

"As matter of fact, they couldn't," Sabé told him. She knew that he was playing with her, but for some reason she found herself powerless to stop it. "Every time you reveal yourself … you hide your face."

In response, Obi-Wan brought up his gloved hands and pushed back his hood, revealing a tousled mane of auburn hair, a stern face with several days worth of a beard growing on his strong chin, and clear, penetrating blue eyes. Sabé's heart was pounding so fast now she thought it might leap out of her chest. It was Obi-Wan, her beloved Obi-Wan. Aside from being shaven and having shorter hair, he looked almost exactly like he had on the last day that they had parted. Yet the other traces … the new traces she remembered from Padmé's apartment … were also there. The rakish, ragged scar running from his eyebrow to the lower part of his cheek, and the underlying hardness that ran like a frozen river in the depths of his eyes, revealing intimately to her that despite all that had happened, despite the months that had passed, he had not forgotten the suffering that had forged him into a new man.

"I suppose you're right, Sabé," he admitted. "But what does it matter? This face reveals nothing about me that you do not already know."

Sabé rubbed her fingers together, bit her lip, and looked down. She did not want to remove her gaze from Obi-Wan's face, but while she was looking at him, her natural instincts would not allow her to think clearly. Instead, she stared at her feet, and spoke in a slightly suppressed tone that Vader had to lean forward to hear.

"What can I do, Obi-Wan?" she whispered. "I know you so well … and yet I do not know you at all. For years you little more than a vision to me, an abstract ideal of perfection with a human face. Then once I got to know, got to be closer to you …" she sucked in a deep breath, conscious of how near they stood to each other. She could hear Obi-Wan's soft, smoothly controlled breathing despite the crashing of the lava in the background. "I realized that I had been wrong, and that you were every bit as human as I was. Like me, you had flaws, but you were so at peace with them that they enhanced you, rather than detracting from your character." She made a noise that sounded like a bitter sigh. "You were intoxicating to me, bringing me in closer and closer. I wanted to disappear, become a part of you, and you to become a part of me. I wanted it so badly that I think it started to happen, and despite our backgrounds, I thought I knew and understood everything about you. And then …"

Tears were gathering in her eyes, stinging and hot. She tried to suppress them, unwilling to show weakness. But she could not control it. First one, then two tears escaped her liquid brown eyes and trailed down her cheeks, enduring despite the acidic atmosphere. Vader was still standing before her, impartial and immovable. His face was liked cooled obsidian, hard and unchanging. As Sabé blinked, she thought she saw something flicker in those resolute eyes, but the next second was sure that she had imagined it because he was still standing there, unshaken.

"Then you disappeared," she forced out. "And when you came back, you were different. You were distant, you were cold, and above all, you were angry. You were no longer at peace with yourself. The trial you endured had cracked open new fault lines that before had been invisible, and you used them to channel your inner rage into a destructive force. You became …" here she could not continue. Despite everything that she had seen and her resolve that she would not falter, she was unable to make herself say _a monster_.

Obi-Wan had remained utterly silent as she poured herself out to him. She forced herself to look at him, and saw that his mouth was shifting, as if trying to devise an expression to reflect what he was feeling, if anything. His blue eyes were boring into hers with an intense stare whose meaning she could not discern, but which both entranced her and terrified her.

When he parted his lips to speak, his voice was calm and soft, but every syllable rang loudly in her ears like the tolling of a bell.

"So that is why you have come," he said. "You wish to unravel the mystery of my identity."

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. Obi-Wan …"

His face darkened. "You have just drawn your first wrong conclusion. I answer to Lord Vader."

His blunt denial wounded Sabé, but simultaneously lent her unexpected strength. "No. It is you who is drawing wrong conclusions, Obi-Wan. No matter what title and power your new master has bestowed upon you, they do not define who you are. Sidious wants you to believe that that is the truth, but he is just trying to suppress your real character. Please, don't let yourself fall prey to his manipulations. Fight it!"

Vader cut her off. "Suppress? You want to know the truth about manipulation? I chose this path, Sabé! Everything I have done has been of my own free will. The Jedi shoved their doctrine into my hands when I was less than a year old! I did not choose to follow that path! I did not choose to lead a life of duplicity and treachery! Everything …_everything_ about my past life was a lie!"

Sabé reeled backwards in shock. She felt like she had been struck. Her legs trembled badly, feeling like they were about to give out from underneath her. Obi-Wan's words had pierced her heart like a searing knife, thrust with malicious intent into the very thing she held most dear. Her throat burned and the flow of tears that had been briefly arrested during when she had last spoken welled up again faster than she would have thought possible. Through tremendous force of will, she was able to keep herself standing, but as her image of Obi-Wan blurred, she knew that it would not last long.

"No," she whispered, to both herself and Obi-Wan. "No, I don't believe it …"

Vader realized he had gone too far. But the volatile rage burning inside of him refused to allow him to stop his vengeful tirade. "I was a slave, Sabé. I was a slave for thirty years. The only _real_ choice I ever made was the choice to turn my back on them! Now I have no limitations! The past harbors only weakness, but the future … the future holds infinite promise!"

A wall burst in Sabé's heart. The blind, unreasoning passion that had overwhelmed her was suddenly infused with a flood of fierce anger fueled by deep hurt. How dare he say that! How dare he dismiss that which she treasured more than anything in the universe as a feeble manifestation of past circumstances? She pulled herself up to her full height, and though Vader still towered over her, she felt like she was on equal footing. She stared hard at the handsome, infuriating face of Obi-Wan Kenobi, which had inspired her truest love, and her most unbearable pain.

"I cannot believe this," she gasped. "I cannot believe that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the most rational, logical, and wise person I have ever known could be so unbelievably _blind_! Was it _all_ a lie then? Was your kindness, selflessness and charity a lie? Was your friendship with Anakin a lie? Was everything that happened between us a lie? Our happiness, our realizations, our love? I refuse to believe it! I refuse to believe that you would be so deranged! And nothing, _nothing_ that you say will convince me otherwise!"

Vader stared down at Sabé with an expression bordering on shock. Sabé felt a kind of vindictive pleasure. She had done it. She had broken that infernal aura of cool arrogance that had sealed him off from the world. And underneath, there was a visible trace of humanity.

"I …" he stammered. "Sabé, I …"

"Yes?" She had to keep him off guard. She couldn't let him slip back into easy justifications.

"I don't …"

"You don't _what_?"

"Damn it, Sabé, I don't know what to tell you!" Vader exploded, baring his teeth in savage frustration. "You're a part of my past that I can no longer trust! If I open the gate to let you back in, then I risk letting the poison that pervaded my system then infect me once more! I will not be taken in again!"

She heard it. Sabé felt as though a ray of light had lanced through the clouds after months of rain to shine on her face. It was dim and gossamer-thin, almost ethereal, but it was there.

"You say _your_ past," she managed to articulate. "The last time we were together in Padmé's apartment, you told me that Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead. Not only that, you claimed that you, the Sith Lord Darth Vader, were an entirely separate entity. But just now, you admitted your connection to the past that you have tried to alienate. You recognize that you are not as settled in your new identity as you and your master would like, don't you?"

Vader looked down. It was the first time he had broken their gaze. She expected him to look furious, either at her for broaching such a topic or at himself for being so careless. But instead, he looked almost defeated.

"Maybe …" he managed to say, "Maybe I have discovered … that the part of me that was Obi-Wan … is not as dead as I had originally believed."

Sabé felt as though she had suddenly been immersed in a wave of cool water, a soothing balm that washed over every open wound that had been inflicted upon her heart. What had been construed, even in her own mind, as an impossible challenge now seemed infinitely more surmountable. Padmé had been right. Obi-Wan did not have to be resurrected from the dead, for he was alive and fighting!

But she had to be wary; Vader was far from overcome. She allowed all her hopes and desires to dissolve into the revitalizing ocean, and so spread throughout her entire body. She looked directly into the ice blue eyes she loved, determined not to break their gaze again.

"Obi-Wan …" she whispered.

Vader flinched. She saw a trace of the evil she feared stir behind his eyes. But it was held at bay. She took a step closer to him.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked him gently. "Why does it paralyze you so? Whatever it is, you cannot seek to overcome it while you keep yourself divided. When you are whole, you are strong. When you are disjoined, you are vulnerable. Can you not see this?"

Vader grimaced. It appeared that his mind was being rent in two. Sabé could see the frozen surface beneath his eyes starting to crack. She saw him blink and try to pull away from her eyes, but despite all his power and will, he could not.

"You don't understand!" he exclaimed, somewhere between a gasp and a snarl. "You _cannot_ understand!"

"I may not understand what has happened to you, Obi-Wan," Sabé told him tenderly. "I may not be able to comprehend the horrors that you have endured. But I love you. I love you, and so I am willing to accept them. If you could accept it, perhaps you could find peace. Let me help you."

Their faces were mere inches apart now. Sabé could see herself reflected in his eyes, the only image visible in the otherwise unfathomable storm of darkness. That storm raged with a terrifying fury, the product of Vader's attempt to shut her out and drive her away. But the storm was growing weaker. It was retreating to somewhere she could not see. And something else was emerging, something she knew. Someone she recognized. Someone she could not be without …

Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly flashed with recognition, the kind that takes hold after one emerges from a long sleep. "Sabé …"

Before anything else could be said, their lips met.

Sabé found herself swept up into an embrace that held her in an invisible hold, one that she never wanted to break. Her eyes had closed – she never wanted to open them again. She did not want to move, to speak, to breathe. All she wanted was to completely and utterly surrender control and let the tidal wave of passion, joy, and awe carry her away to its depths, so that she could drown in its miraculous embrace. Never had she experienced such a blissful surrender, and never had the balance of her world seemed so perfectly aligned.

A dull roar went up in the distance, and the foundations of the base shook as one of Mustafar's thousands of volcanoes threw up countless tons of molten rock, dust, and ash. Far below, the Mustafarians trembled and took shelter, as if hiding from the wrath of a vengeful god. Sabé and the Dark Lord did not notice. They were caught up in the unpredictable throes of a force to which no natural fury could compare.

* * *

Emperor Palpatine was sitting in his private office beneath the floor of the Senate Chamber, disinterestedly reading reports from his governors stationed in the Outer Rim, when a noise from the hallway caught his attention. It was quiet, almost imperceptible, but as it drew closer, it was recognizable as the scraping of wood on metal. Palpatine did not bother to look up from the report – whatever it was, his guards would take care of it.

How wrong he was.

Just as the noise reached its loudest, the Emperor detected an extremely powerful force presence close by. He knew the signature; only one could possess that amount of power – and the control to shield it from him.

The scraping sound of the cane stopped just inside the door. The two Royal Guards flanking the portal rounded on the diminutive intruder, pikes raised. The Jedi Master flicked his hand casually, and there was a resounding _crack_ as both of the guards' heads simultaneously struck the wall. The crack was followed almost immediately by a _thump_ as their unconscious bodies crumpled to the floor.

Without a glance at them, the eldest and most renowned Jedi Master in the galaxy turned his intent, piercing green eyes onto Palpatine.

"I hear a new apprentice, you have, Emperor," he stated casually, as though this were a perfectly routine and expected entrance. "Or should I call you, Darth Sidious?"

Palpatine turned his throne-like chair to the left towards his challenger, while Mas Amedda shifted nervously behind him. "Master Yoda," he announced in a tone that suggested he was contemplating a piece of slime on his recently shined boot. "You _survived_."

Yoda raised a wrinkled eyebrow in a subtly mocking gesture. "Surprised?"

Palpatine's lips curled upwards in a contemptuous sneer, exposing a line of rotten teeth. "Your arrogance blinds you, Master Yoda," he spat. He raised his crooked hands to point directly at the Jedi. "Now you will experience the full power of the Dark Side!"

"Unless the full power of the Dark Side has substantially increased since our last meeting," another voice suddenly rang out, "I sense that your strength will be wasted."

Palpatine swung to his right to face the newcomer. Mace Windu stood less than ten paces away, lightsaber in hand, blocking the chamber's second exit. The expression on his dark face carried no hint of malice, yet at the same time promised infinite danger.

"And Master Windu!" Palpatine exclaimed. "What an unpleasant surprise! Given our previous encounter, I thought you would have been too badly scarred to have the gall to challenge me again."

The fingers of Mace's mechanical right hand flexed ever so slightly, but his pointed stare did not leave Palpatine's face. "We have each left our mark upon the other, Sidious. But some scars heal … while others do not."

Palpatine's mutilated face contorted with fury. "Jedi scum," he hissed. "You have the audacity to insult the Emperor?"

Both Yoda and Mace slowly began to advance on Palpatine and the rigid Mas Amedda. "Our audacity is nothing compared to yours," Mace told the Dark Lord. "You can be at no loss as to why we are here."

A faint smile forced its way onto Palpatine's withered lips. "Come now, _two_ of you against me? That's hardly fair."

Mace did not blink. "You do not need to suffer harm. Stand down."

"You misunderstand me, Master Windu," Palpatine grinned. "Two Jedi Masters, no matter how renowned, cannot hope to match my power!"

In a movement to quickly to be noticed or anticipated, the Emperor swung his gnarled hands back towards Master Yoda, who had been drawing steadily closer, and unleashed his deadly assault.

The unblockable wave of lightning slammed into the Jedi Master before he could react. Yoda was picked up like a rag doll and flung across the office, where he slammed into the relentlessly unforgiving wall. A shimmering corona of pure energy surrounded his limp body for a few seconds, then vanished, leaving him helpless on the floor.

Mace lunged forward, only to find himself paralyzed. Palpatine had extended a hand towards him and caught his body in an invisible hold. Mace felt himself rise several centimeters above the ground, where he hung, unable to move a muscle. Palpatine cackled.

"All too easy," he forced out in between snatches of mirth. "Amedda, you may go. Old disputes should be settled in privacy."

Amedda bowed and made an exit that was a little too hasty to be dignified.

Palpatine began to move towards the motionless Yoda, still keeping Mace locked in his invisible stranglehold. "I have been waiting a long time for this moment," he chuckled nostalgically, malice dripping from ever word. "My _little_ … _green_ … _friend_."

Mace tried to reach out to his friend, but Yoda gave no sign. He appeared to be totally unconscious. Palpatine was only a few steps away now, hands poised for the killing barrage.

Then he felt it. It was just the smallest nudge, barely noticeable, the equivalent of a Force wink. But Mace knew what it was, and what he needed to do.

He strained harder at his invisible bonds, and Palpatine turned his head towards him. "Never fear, Master Windu, I shall finish you off soon enough. Once I do, the Jedi will be no more."

"Not if anything to say about it, I have!"

Yoda vaulted to his feet, faster than the Emperor could comprehend. Mace saw Palpatine's eyes widen for only a fraction of a second before Yoda stuck out his hand and unleashed his power.

Palpatine was thrown backwards as if shot from a cannon, smashing into his desk with enough force to knock it over. He tumbled head over heels, tangling in his robes, before landing sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap.

Mace's bonds disappeared, and he fell smoothly back to the floor. Yoda, breathing heavily but apparently no worse for the wear, eyed the sputtering ruler with distaste.

"At an end, your rule is," he stated coldly, as Palpatine scrambled hastily to his feet. "And not short enough it was."

Palpatine, looking stunned by the sudden turn of events, broke abruptly for the nearest door. Mace cut him off, the hilt of his lightsaber pointed at his enemy's chest. Palpatine backed quickly towards the other exit, only to run into Yoda, who smiled grimly as he ignited his pulsing green blade. "If so powerful, you are …" he asked dangerously, "Why leave?"

Mace's own purple blade sprang to life, trapping the Emperor in between the two pillars of light. "You will not stop me," he gasped angrily. A red lightsaber shot out of his sleeve and into his hand. "My two apprentices will become more powerful than you could ever imagine!"

"You presume too much, My Lord," Mace said menacingly. "Anakin is not your servant."

Yoda raised his blade to the en garde position. "And faith in Darth Vader, misplaced may be. As is your faith in the Dark Side of the Force!"

Palpatine forced the corners of his mouth up into a leering scowl. "We shall see!"

Raising his red blade, he charged Yoda.

The Jedi Master moved like lightning, bringing his sword into parry position to force away the Emperor's dynamic strike. He tensed his legs and launched himself into the air, whirling like a miniature tornado as his blade came around for an attack. Palpatine parried the blow with a savage counter, slamming the Jedi Master back down. He leveled his weapon to his shoulder, directing the point down at Yoda's heart.

Mace charged his enemy from behind, putting all his considerable strength into a furious swing. Palpatine spun around and blocked the slice that would have cleaved him in half. Mace spun his blade in his hands, directing two more blindingly quick strikes at the Emperor. The Dark Lord parried them both with difficulty, but before he could counterattack, he was forced to wheel about and fend off a deadly thrust from Yoda that nearly impaled his stomach. The Dark Side of the Force rescued its master, and Palpatine was spared.

Mace and Yoda took the slightest moment to find themselves in the Force and strengthen their link. A wave of light and power flooded the muscles of the two legendary Jedi, binding them together in a way that no one else could understand. They were separated in age by several centuries, but in that moment, their wisdom and vitality were one. They understood each other perfectly; they knew every move that the other would make. Mace _was_ Yoda, and Yoda _was_ Mace.

Their Force signatures fluxed, then shifted into a new spectrum. In this light, they had no flaws. Each was the perfect complement to the other. Just by letting their barriers and limitations dissolve, they had opened up a new realm of possibilities. They had become fused, joined in every way but the physical. It was a perfect gem, a kind of living alloy forged out of complete trust and a common goal. Their strengths balanced out the other's weaknesses. Their shatterpoints were invisible. As long as they stayed focused, they were invincible. As long as they remained in harmony, nothing could keep them from achieving their desired end.

Together, they faced the Sith Lord.

Mace swung high. At the exact same instant, Yoda swung low. Palpatine blocked Yoda's strike, and was forced to enact an undignified maneuver to avoid Mace. The two Jedi converged on their target once more, assailing him with a blinding joint offensive. The Emperor of the galaxy used every scrap of his strength, every ounce of his will, and every last vestige of his fear to keep them at bay. He parried a high strike from Mace, a scything slash from Yoda, a thrust, another thrust, a spinning downward hack, a crushing counter, a stab, yet another slash. Each attack sapped his strength and strained his limbs. But he gained no reprieve. He earned no quarter. He received no mercy.

The unstoppable Jedi team drove the Emperor backwards towards the wall of his office. With Mace on his right and Yoda on his left, he could not maneuver, which was necessary for his Ataru style to be effective. Mace was clearly suffering no ill effects from the horrific injuries he had received at Palpatine's own hands; the strength of his blows was crushing. And Yoda …Yoda was regarded as one of the most legendary duelists to ever inhabit the galaxy. A few seconds was all one needed to see why. He struck so fast that the air warped around him, enclosing his body in a shield of light.

Darth Sidious, the strongest Dark Lord of the Sith in a millennium, was seconds away from annihilation.

But though he was outmatched, Sidious was a survivor. And in such a situation, he became more deadly than ever.

The Emperor rebounded off the wall, jumping back toward the center of the room. Mace and Yoda smoothly swung about, exchanging positions. Sidious backed towards the center of the room, where the Chancellor's platform rested. He retreated until his back touched the cold metal, then he dropped into his stance, blade at the ready position. The Jedi came in.

Without warning, a second blade shot out of Palpatine's sleeve and came to rest in his free hand. A sizzling red beam of energy materialized from the hilt, which was oddly shaped and had a special emitter, one typically used by masters of Form II. As the blade came into focus, the Jedi recognized it. That weapon had been wielded with deadly efficiency against many Jedi during the Clone Wars.

_Count Dooku_. Even long dead, his weapon was an instrument of his master's will.

Sidious grinned evilly. Crossing his own blade with that of his former apprentice, the Sith waited for the Jedi tandem to make a move.

Yoda struck first. The diminutive Jedi launched himself right into Sidious's guard, occupying both blades with a flurry of cuts and stabs. He hung in the air, barely seeming to touch the ground. Sidious used both his weapons to hold off the assault, the savage will of the Dark Side lending him extra power. A flash caught the corner of his eye, and Sidious was forced to duck as Mace's blade came in at head height, nearly decapitating him. Sidious pushed off from the podium, taking advantage of Mace's slight overextension to shove Yoda back. Mace recovered and brought his weapon down in a determined slash at the Emperor's head. Sidious raised his left-hand weapon to parry, then leapt into the air and kicked Mace full in the chest with both feet, a blow backed by a surge of raging anger.

The double kick would have sent any lesser Jedi Master flying. Mace, entrenched in the light, strengthened by his bond with Yoda and decades of experience, merely stumbled. But that was enough for Sidious to gain some needed space. He flipped backwards, landing in the middle of the podium, and hit the activation button with the Force. The platform began to ascend.

Yoda jumped up onto the rising podium and engaged the Emperor in a ferocious battle. Tendons strained in the ancient Master's arms and the veins in his temples pulsed with increased bloodflow as he drove new power into each and every swing. Holding a weapon in each hand, Sidious fended off Yoda's vaulting aerial attacks, a sheen of sweat gathering on his mangled face as he concentrated. The podium passed up through a newly opened portal in the roof of the Emperor's office, rising into the echoing confines of the colossal Seante Chamber.

Mace recovered from his momentary incapacitation to find that the other two combatants were leaving him behind. Already the top of the platform was too high for him to reach by jumping, even with the aid of the Force. Yoda, locked in furious combat, sent him the faintest trace of an idea, and Mace immediately reformed it into a mental picture of what needed to be done. He sprinted towards the smoothly rising support column and slashed at it twice with his lightsaber, carving out a makeshift handhold and foothold. He leapt up, and his hands easily found the rough surface of the cauterized metal. While the Lord of the Sith and the Master of the Jedi faced each other in an epic standoff and the relentless sound of their clashing lightsabers filled the vast Senate Chamber, Mace Windu clambered determinedly up the column, eager to rejoin the fight.

* * *

As soon as Anakin emerged from hyperspace, he noted the Imperial presence. You did not leave a capital ship as potent as that one hanging in orbit above an Outer Rim planet for no reason. Vader was here. And whatever his mission was, it was an important one.

Anakin quickly engaged the sensors, scanning for any sign of Sabé's ship. There was none. She must have entered the atmosphere – or she had been captured and taken on board the Star Destroyer. But no …he would have sensed that, even given the turmoil his mind was in right now. Perhaps if he moved in closer to the planet, he could discern more about what had happened.

With precision born of over twenty years of experience and abundant natural instinct, Anakin guided his craft in on an approach vector. Occasionally he took a moment to see if his entry had aroused suspicion, but the hulking cruiser stationed in Mustafar's outer orbit was utterly silent. Either they were truly ignorant of his presence here, or else they were deliberately letting him pass unchallenged. Anakin suspected the former, but as three years of war had taught him, making such assumptions carelessly was the recipe for disaster.

He reached the outer atmosphere without incident. He was about to conduct a sensor sweep for a concentration of technology when he noticed a trail through the thick soup of gases, marked by shunted ions. A ship had passed this way, recently. Anakin gripped the controls tighter and, with the delicacy of one balancing on a high bridge, followed the obscure pathway.

There. His sensors spiked and a few seconds later, a large mining facility appeared. Anakin carefully circled a kilometer or so overhead, and was able to discern the outline of a small starship on one of the landing pads. That meant Sabé was here. He did not have to scan for a second ship to discover Vader's presence. The cold, powerful aura of his former master saturated the Force around him. The Dark Lord had left his mark on this place, without question. Anakin could only hope that Sabé had not been the target of his wrath.

He deftly guided his ship down onto a landing pad adjacent to the one Sabé's craft rested on, but hidden from view by the bulk of the building. In the opposite direction, he could see another ship parked, a shuttle of an expensive alien design typically used by the leaders of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

Anakin smiled grimly, an expression tainted with a strange satisfaction. That explained Obi-Wan's presence here. The loathsome bankers and their traitorous Senate compatriots must have selected this world as their final hideaway, and Darth Sidious had decided that they had finally outlived their usefulness. If what he had seen in the Temple was anything to go by, their simultaneous trial and punishment had no doubt been carried out swiftly and brutally. Enemies of justice were not looked upon kindly by Vader.

Anakin wasn't sure which concept disturbed him more – the idea of Obi-Wan conducting such a vicious raid, or his own callous insensitivity to such an action. For despite everything that had happened, he could not help but feel that Nute Gunray and his contemptible partners in crime had gotten exactly what they deserved.

_If anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering, what does icy indifference lead to?_

_Oblivion._

Anakin rose from the pilot's chair and headed for the main cabin. He could not entertain such notions of Jedi morality now. After what he had done, redemption and moral purity were as distant as the heavens.

He paused for a moment by Padmé's bed. His wife lay quite still, her eyes closed, her only movement the slow rise and fall of her breast as she breathed. Anakin's eyes softened and he tenderly reached out to run his fingers through a loose strand of her silky brown hair. His fingers brushed her cheek, and Padmé stirred slightly, her mouth forming a word that Anakin could not decipher. Anakin bent down and brought their faces together, brushing his lips over her soft, rosy ones. He held them there for a long moment, then slowly, regretfully, pulled away.

"I'll be back, Angel," he whispered.

He turned away and crossed over to the hatch, opening it with the press of a button. A wave of hot, bitter air flooded the cabin. Behind him, Padmé's eyelids flickered, then opened, exposing her wondrous brown orbs to the light.

"Ani …" she mouthed, her voice barely audible.

Anakin pulled up his hood to provide some protection from the wind. He did not look back, nor did he hear Padmé's call. Eyes set and determined, he marched down the ramp and out of sight.

Padmé, her arms trembling from the exertion, raised her head and upper body a few centimeters off the cot. "Anakin!" she called, her voice catching in her throat.

She was too late. Anakin was gone.

* * *

Next post, Sabe tries to pull Vader back, but learns just how deeply the Dark Side has taken hold. Anakin and Vader meet once again, and an unexpected occurance forces them once more into deadly confrontation. Meanwhile, on Coruscant, Mace and Yoda continue to battle the Emperor on a mission whose costs may outweigh its gains. 


	42. You Are Lost

**Chapter 42**

_Peace._

Vader's eyes, which a short time ago had burned yellow with an unnatural hate, were closed. His face, normally a steely mask of cold determination, was smooth and untroubled. His mind was blissfully blank. He was conscious of no sensation save the warm tingling that had spread to every corner of his body as Sabé's lips slid over his. Somehow, his arms had slipped around her, and were holding her petite figure in their firm embrace. It was an ideal moment in an ideal galaxy, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced.

Yet in the smallest corner of his rational mind, the only part of him not under the spell, he knew that such a concept was an illusion.

So, after a minute of unconscious peace, he pulled away.

Sabé's eyes opened at the same time as his. He looked deep into them, and saw the simple relief and joy of a woman who had let herself go, and surrendered all her emotions to the winds. It was an entrancing image, marred only by the slight confusion as to why her partner in this release had suddenly retreated into the harsh light of reality.

"Sabé …" Vader said gently, "You're trembling."

Sabé nodded slightly. "So are you."

Sure enough, Vader could discern the slightest involuntary movement of his limbs. It was this small visual cue that allowed him to ground his feet in the sands of the real once more. Weakness. Loss of control. He quickly arrested the motion.

Sabé took a small step forward, but Vader hurriedly took a small step back, maintaining their separation. "Sabé, I'm sorry," he said as steadily as he could. "We can't do this."

Disappointment flashed onto Sabé face. "Why not, Obi-Wan? Why can't we, just for a moment, set aside our inhibitions?"

"Because to do so would mean that we have to set aside reality," Vader said harshly. "And reality is what we live under. Sabé, no matter what we feel, the fact remains that we are on opposite sides of the war."

"War?" Sabé demanded. "What war? We're not in a war!"

"Yes, we are," Vader told her. "It may not be an open conflict yet, but it will be. Trust me; my Master will not condone the continued existence of your resistance movement. And neither will I."

Anger replaced the disappointment on Sabé's face. "Forget politics for a moment, Obi-Wan! Forget everything! This is about _us_!"

"Sabé, there is no _us_!" Vader exploded. "Not anymore! You destroyed any chance of that when you threw your lot in with the Rebels!"

"I can't believe this," Sabé breathed. "I can't believe _you_. When did you become so narrow-minded?"

"It's you who are being narrow-minded, Sabé. I would not make such a mistake. Being narrow-minded cost me everything."

"So it's this again," Sabé snapped. The tears were beginning to gather in her eyes again. "We're back to your damn vendetta. Obi-Wan, you have paid back all those you claim caused you to suffer a thousand times in blood! When will it end? How many more have to die or submit to you before your rage will be sated? Why, oh why, can't you forgive them?"

Vader was silent. He had no answer to give.

"You think you have gained retribution," Sabé continued, "But at what cost? There's good in you, I know it! Stop this bloody quest before you destroy yourself!"

No matter how hard he tried to remain impassive, Vader knew that a tormented battle was raging within him, both in his eyes and his heart. Sabé knew it; she could sense it. It was giving her strength and hope. Determined not to undermine himself any further, Vader continued his vigil of silence.

Sabé stepped closer to him and slipped her hands into his. "Come away with me," she whispered. "Let us create a new life somewhere away from all this hateful influence. Leave everything else behind while we still can!"

Sabé's impassioned plea could not be ignored. Vader found his voice.

"Sabé," he said as gently as he could. "Don't you see? We can't run away. We are destined to play a role in the shaping of this galaxy, and I cannot deny that responsibility. If you want us to be together, come with _me_. I am more powerful than the Emperor – I can overthrow him! And together you and I can rule the galaxy! Make things the way we want them to be! Let us surpass our own limitations and forge our own path!"

Sabé let Vader's hands fall. Slowly, she began to back away, tears now streaming openly down her cheeks.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do anymore!" She continued to retreat, her eyes silently pleading with her former lover. "Obi-Wan, you're breaking my heart! You're going down a path I can't follow, and you refuse to turn back!"

Vader's eyes hardened. "What did you expect, Sabé? That you could single-handedly get me to renounce my power and turn myself over to the Jedi? I'm offering you a chance to be with me. If you won't take it, then perhaps your professed affection is not as strong as you claim."

That was the last straw for Sabé. Casting aside all her pride and all her reservation, she sprang back towards Vader, seizing his hands again and pressing them to her heart.

"Feel that!" she cried. "Do you feel that presence? It's you, Obi-Wan! It's always been you! Please come back! Don't let Vader force you down again! I can't lose you!"

Vader felt as though a dozen hot spears were tearing his heart into pieces. He could feel the part of him that still bore Kenobi's identity frantically reaching out to the beautiful woman in front of him, trying to seize her hand. Vader cut him off. _She will come to_ me, he snarled inwardly. I _will not yield to_ her.

Without warning, Vader felt an ominous surge in the Force, indicating the imminent proximity of a great source of power. His eyes flickered away from Sabé's pleading face towards the far end of the platform. There, just visible through the smog, was the figure of a man, wearing a hooded cloak, approaching fast. Vader's body tensed. His mouth twisted into a grim smile of satisfaction. Only one person in the galaxy could exert such a pull on the Force.

Sabé could sense Obi-Wan slipping away. Her strong voice articulated one last desperate plea.

"Stop, stop! Come back now! I love you!"

But Vader did not respond. He barely heard her. Instead, he drew himself up to his full bearings and, unconsciously pulling himself free of Sabé's grasp, hailed the newcomer.

"Well now. Look who's decided to join the party."

Sabé spun around to face the hooded man who had stopped a few meters away from the Dark Lord. The man pulled back his hood, revealing the unmistakable features of Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin stood perfectly still, surveying his former mentor, now the Emperor's apprentice, with a recondite expression. The look was inherently unnerving; it was neither angry nor accusatory, but something lurked behind it, a dark shadow of a thought that let Vader know Anakin was holding something back.

"Obi-Wan," he said guardedly.

Sabé took a step backwards, away from Anakin and towards Vader. She seemed to be made uneasy by Anakin's deadly aura of unresponsive calm. But Vader, at whom Anakin was looking, seemed immune to such restlessness.

"We meet once again, my friend," he said, as casually as he had at their briefing in the Jedi Temple. "The Emperor ordained your coming. I am pleased to see that in this case, his insight was correct."

"Palpatine has always been able to interpret the future," Anakin said. "And his ability has served him well."

"Anakin!" Sabé burst out. "What are you doing here? Is Padmé with you? Is she all right?"

Vader started. The jerk was barely visible, the smallest movement of the arms and increase in the rate of breathing. But he could not mask his reaction in the Force in time, and Anakin felt it.

"She's fine, Sabé," Anakin addressed the anxious handmaiden, though his eyes did not leave Vader. "She's back on the ship."

Vader found himself running through the consequences of what Anakin had said at light speed. If Anakin had recovered his wife, that meant he had also encountered Ventress, and presumably killed her. But while Vader would be ecstatic the latter proved to be true, he also knew that there was a serious risk that Ventress might have compromised the Empire in effort to save her own skin. If that was the case …

He managed to get himself under control. The strange flash in Anakin's eyes warned him that his slip could have dangerous consequences. If he did not keep himself on a tighter leash, he would not only lose the opportunity to turn Anakin, he might be forced to best his former padawan in lightsaber combat once more to ensure his own survival.

"The lady has a point, Skywalker," Vader interjected calmly, making sure to use Anakin's last name as a tool to keep him on the defensive. "With rouge dark side disciples and assassins seeking to apprehend your wife, I would have believed that your first priority would be to get her to safety as soon as possible. And this planet …" Vader swept out his right arm, indicating the fiery landscape around them "is far from what I would call _safe_."

"She's going to be all right," Anakin said, clearly infusing his words with more confidence than he was actually feeling. "She's strong."

"No one is disputing that," Vader told him. "Nevertheless, she is human, and there is only so much pressure that one's mind and body can take – especially in her circumstances."

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"I have excellent medics on my command ship in orbit …"

"No," Anakin said firmly, squaring his soldiers and blocking the catwalk to his ship. "She's not going to be subjected to any more dark side influence."

"Anakin," Vader said bracingly. "If Padmé is in such serious condition that you cannot adequately treat her, then she needs specialized care. I would suggest that you allow me to take her aboard my vessel. You cannot protect her here."

Anakin suddenly pulled a small black pouch from his belt. With an expression on his face that suggested he was reliving a terrible memory, he flung it at Vader's feet. The bag fell open, and the blood-stained silver hilt of a lightsaber tumbled out, rolled across the platform, and came to rest at Vader's feet.

Vader nudged the weapon with the toe of his boot. "What's this, Anakin?"

"That, Obi-Wan," Anakin choked out, fighting back either rage or despair, "is all that is left of Asajj Ventress."

Sabé gasped in horror as realization flooded her. For one split instant, Vader appeared to be thunderstruck by the magnitude of Anakin's vicious revelation. But then the aura of surprise vanished, replaced by an almost gleeful expression. As another tremor shook the landing pad, Vader threw back his head and laughed.

"Is that so?" he exclaimed. "Ah, Anakin, this is welcome news indeed! You could not comprehend the hatred I bore for that conniving piece of treacherous slime! At last, then, the murderous filth has been expunged from this galaxy!"

His eyes glittered red as he leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Anakin, did she suffer?"

Anakin's eyes became harder than obsidian, tinged with an unfathomable darkness. "No mortal has ever endured such agony."

Vader laughed again, the traces of his dark amusement echoing across the platform. "So it is as the Force has ordained. Now, you can truly see the power of the Dark Side!"

"Obi-Wan, stop!" Sabé cried out. "Stop subjecting Anakin to this hateful tirade! It is bad enough that you believe the words you utter!"

Vader rounded on her, his cloak swirling about him ominously in an unconscious exertion of his power. "This is why you cannot understand, Sabé. You have never held such hatred for someone that it is impossible to forgive. Such emotions cannot be bottled up – _will not_ be bottled up! They must be released, and your vindication obtained!"

"No, Obi-Wan," Anakin said firmly.

Vader rounded on him. "What?"

"She's right," Anakin said. "This is wrong. Such vengeful actions are of the Dark Side."

A snarl began to form on Vader's face. "_Do not_ preach Jedi maxims to me, Anakin. Not you. I know that you are above such narrow-minded hypocrisy."

"I know that you are as well, Obi-Wan," Anakin said steadily. "It is not too late for you to realize it. Your anger is not directed at the Jedi and the Council, but within. I can help you discover the source of your rage and extract it. You can rediscover the spirit of good that lives within you. You can regain what you have lost. There is still hope."

Vader's mouth twisted into a disbelieving smile at the word _hope_. "Why are you doing this, Anakin? Why are you risking death and disgrace to deny your destiny?"

"Because you're my best friend. And I want to help you."

For a moment, there was utter silence. Vader looked at Anakin long and hard, studying his old friend's face intently, reading its every secret. As he did so, a touch of humanity returned to his own countenance. For a moment, he looked almost exactly like the man who had vanished several months earlier, prior to renouncing his status as a Jedi. It was the face of the one they had called the Negotiator, who had been revered as a hero by billions of the galaxy's free citizens. For a second there was a flash of an expression that might have been a smile, full of fatherly pride and brotherly affection. In that spilt instant, Anakin felt the bond that had joined him to his master flare up again like a thousand suns, bringing with it memories of a brighter time and the traces of warm familiarity. The intensity of the connection was blinding.

Then it was gone. A cold tendril snaked out a severed the link, leaving Anakin standing opposite the Dark Lord of the Sith once more.

"Anakin," Vader said slowly, seriously, "Can't you see that I am trying to do the same thing for you? I am opening the path to a world where your power has no limits, and you can accomplish anything your heart desires. This is the path to freedom. You have been a slave all your life …"

Anakin's face darkened. Vader had said the wrong thing, but he refused to back down.

"… first to the Hutts, then to Watto, then to the Jedi. When are you going break free? This is your chance!"

"Stop, Obi-Wan," Anakin said gratingly, the muscles in his arms beginning to tense. "This is not the way."

"You're lying to yourself, Anakin," Vader countered. "I can see it in your eyes. You know what your destiny is. Tell me, how did it feel to have Ventress's blood running over your hands?"

Anakin jerked noticeably. Ghosts of pain flashed behind his eyes.

"How did it feel to assert your power? To seize back what had been taken from you? To do what was necessary? For that is what you did. If you hadn't given into your anger, you would have lost your wife. You can see the parallels now, can you not? When something you loved was taken from you, you were able to reclaim it and make yourself stronger than before. That is why Sidious …"

Anakin froze. "Sidious?"

Vader stopped. He felt the full force of his mistake ram into his stomach like a durasteel piston. In allowing his fanatical anger to carry him away, he had lost control …

The intricate connections of manipulation and treachery began to unfold in Anakin's brain right before Vader's eyes. "Sidious …" he whispered. "How could he …"

The Chosen One's eyes locked onto his former master like the laser sight of a sniper rifle, the hot point of his gaze slashing through the darkness of Vader's soul to the innermost level of his heart.

"You _knew_."

Vader felt like he had swallowed a poisoned knife. Somehow, he managed to keep his face neutral. "What?"

"You knew," Anakin repeated. "This … this entire ordeal … it was a set up, wasn't it? Sidious ordered Ventress to kidnap Padmé, knowing that I would stop at nothing to get her. He predicted what would happen when I did. And _you_ …" the intensity of his ice-blue stare redoubled as he looked into Vader's eyes, "You knew all about it."

His voice dropped to a whisper so low that Vader could barely hear it, but the understated malice in his tone was impossible to ignore.

"And you did _nothing_."

Time seemed to have stopped. The three living beings on the platform - Anakin, Vader, and Sabé – had stepped into a parallel universe entirely separate from their hellish surroundings, their respective allies, and the entire galaxy. Even the titanic rumbling of the nearby unstable volcano was no more than a whisper.

Anakin looked directly at Vader. "Do you deny it?"

Vader sighed. The situation had taken a turn for the worse – and there was no going back.

"No, Anakin," he said flatly. "I do not deny it."

Anakin's eyes flared and his mouth curled into a snarl.

"_Why?_"

"Because the Emperor is right, Anakin," Vader snapped. "She _is_ holding you back."

He had reached the point of no return. While he was appalled that Padmé had been brutalized and furious that he had not been able to stop it, the underlying motive behind the plan was in no way damaged. Padmé had been removed, and Anakin had taken the next step along his path. His former apprentice might not be aware of that, but Vader was not going to let him take refuge in denial any longer.

"Every time you embrace your anger, she soothes you. Every time you regret taking action, she assures you that you did the right thing. She was your conscience, Anakin, and the role that she played kept you slaving under the lies of the Jedi for years longer than you otherwise would have tolerated. Can you honestly claim that it was conducive to your progress in the Force? I don't think that you can."

"So you decided that she had to be removed?" Anakin demanded. "You turned my wife over to a murderous enemy just to prove a _point_?"

A cold smile broke on Vader's face. "Hardly, Anakin. Removing her influence on you freed you up to act according to your own desires, untainted by unnecessary compassion. Look where it got you! Your aura pulses with a power that can only be attained through the dark side! You have begun to free yourself, as I did!"

"You lie!" Anakin said, his voice trembling. "I am _not_ like you. I have not embraced the way of the Sith."

"I do not lie, Anakin," Vader told him. "Lies nearly destroyed me. In your heart, you know I speak the truth. I did what was necessary."

"What was necessary?!" Anakin snarled. "That's your justification for everything, isn't it? Would you have killed her, if Sidious had deemed _that_ necessary?"

Vader's face darkened. "Do not throw out hypotheticals, Anakin. Focus on what is happening now, and listen to the will of the Force."

"That's a Jedi proverb, Obi-Wan." Though Anakin's tone was bitter, a note of hope had slid into it. "You haven't forgotten Qui-Gon's lessons then?"

Vader bared his teeth in a painful snarl. "Stop reaching for Obi-Wan, Anakin. You cannot save him from the abyss. It is foolish to test me …"

A noise from the catwalk interrupted their heated exchange. It was an uneven pounding that seemed to correspond to someone walking with a limp. As the sound grew louder, ragged breathing was heard and the sultry fumes parted to reveal a slim figure making its way towards the gathering, clutching the railing for support.

Padmé.

As the Senator from Naboo came into full view, Sabé gasped, and Anakin rushed to his wife's side. Padmé collapsed into his arms, her broken ankle no longer able to support her weight. Though Vader made no move towards his old friend, he could easily discern the frightful marks of abuse that Ventress had left upon her. A hot wave of anger raced through him.

"Padmé!" Anakin exclaimed. He opened a bond with his wife, letting his strength and his love pour into her. "What are you doing? You're in no condition to walk!"

"I'm sorry, Ani …" Padmé gasped. "I woke up and you were gone. I was frightened - I wanted to make sure that you were all right."

Anakin's eyes flashed briefly towards Vader, as if he expected the Dark Lord to suddenly attack them, but Vader gave no sign of intending to do so. Anakin turned back to his wife.

"You shouldn't be worrying about me, Padmé. You should be concerned for yourself and for …"

He stopped and looked at Vader again. The Dark Lord shrugged. "What, Anakin? I know about your child – you don't need to restrain yourself."

Anakin's eyes narrowed dangerously, his scattered thoughts merging into one terrible notion.

"Our child …" he said quietly. "Obi-Wan, what did you tell him?"

Vader frowned. "What?"

"Sidious!" Anakin snapped. "You know, Ventress knew … Am I supposed to believe that no word of this has reached the Emperor? _What did you tell him?_"

Vader's face hardened. "I told the Emperor nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Obi-Wan," Anakin snarled. "Do not lie to me about this …"

"I have kept your secret, Anakin. I could have betrayed it a thousand times, but I did not."

"And yet you still were willing to send an unstable murderer to kidnap my wife?" Anakin exploded. "How does that satisfy your claim that you have not betrayed us?"

"Your accusations are blind, Anakin," Vader told him. Anger was coursing through his veins; he could feel the dark side taking hold and had no desire to stop it. "I suggest that you reign yourself in before you find your position too untenable."

"You expect me to reign myself in when you are here admitting that you designed a plan to have Padmé tortured?" Anakin yelled. A molten streak appeared in his eyes, matching Vader's fury. The air around him began to distort with a strange energy. "Then you and your master can …"

Without warning, Padmé cried out in agony. Sabé, who had been standing in between the two powerful Force-users as the tension escalated, helplessly trying to diffuse their mounting anger, rushed to her best friend's side. "Padmé, what's wrong?"

The Senator from Naboo did not answer as she convulsed in her husband's arms. Another cry tore from her lips, this one more pained than the last. Anakin's eyes widened in fear as he clutched Padmé close to his body. "Padmé!"

"Ani!" Padmé found her voice, even as her pain reached a higher level. "Darkness … closing in … can't breathe …"

Anakin lowered himself to his knees, holding onto Padmé despite her wild flailing. "What's happening, Padmé? Tell me!"

Padmé's eyes began to roll back into her head. "Hate … anger …no, Ani, no … don't …not the children …Vader …"

Anakin's eyes shot up to meet Vader's, fury roiling in their depths. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER!?" he bellowed.

Vader's mind was racing with shock. "Nothing!"

"LIAR!" Anakin yelled. "STOP IT NOW, OR I'LL …"

Anakin's anger and fear for his wife had pushed him beyond the point of reason. Though he was still holding Padmé tightly to him, his lightsaber had appeared in his free hand. The open barrel of the emitter was pointed directly at Vader's heart.

Sabé had a death grip on Padmé's hand. "Padmé, talk to me!"

Padmé cried out again, but her voice was weaker this time. She seemed to be slipping away. "Ani … please …"

The realization hit Vader like a thunderbolt. "Anakin, it's you. She can feel your anger through your bond. It's poisoning her. You have to cut yourself off from her, now!"

Anakin's eyes blazed with pure, unfiltered rage. "So you can take her? Never!"

"Anakin, if you don't come to your senses soon she'll be dead!" Vader bellowed. "Let her go!"

"NO!"

"PADMÉ!" Sabé screamed.

It happened before anyone could react. A surge of intent passed through the Force, followed instantly by a conscious exertion of power. Padmé was torn from Anakin's arms and flung brutally away from him. She tumbled onto the platform and rolled for several meters before coming to rest midway between Anakin and Vader. Padmé's eyes remained closed, but her tormented breathing eased and the convulsions that had wracked her body halted. The dark menace that had assaulted her mind dissipated. Once more she seemed to be at peace.

Anakin Skywalker did not notice. He did not even care.

Slowly, the Chosen One rose from up from his knees, lightsaber in hand. His eyes locked with murderous intent on the Sith Lord who had ripped his beloved from his arms.

"_What have you done?!_"

Vader's eyes leveled with Anakin's. "I have just saved your wife before you killed her with your unfocused rage."

"That's a lie!" Anakin yelled. "You want her to die, don't you?"

"If I wanted her dead, I could have killed her at the Jedi Temple!" Vader roared. "And you as well! Come to your senses!"

Anakin's lightsaber shot to life, its glow silhouetting his rage-filled face. A dark cloud seemed to envelop him.

"You expect me to believe that?" he laughed mockingly. "You don't care who has to die as long as you get what you want!"

Vader's lightsaber shot into his hand and ignited with a deadly hiss. "Do not twist my words, Skywalker," he growled. "It will cost you dearly."

Sabé, who had rushed to Padmé's side to ensure that her friend was all right, looked up from her kneeling position in horror as the two deadliest individuals in the galaxy squared off against each other. "Anakin!" she screamed. "Obi-Wan! Stop this madness! You are not enemies!"

Anakin's voice distorted as the fury of betrayal overtook his soul. "I thought that you could be saved, Obi-Wan," he grated. "But I see now that Vader has too strong of a hold on you. You are lost."

Vader set his feet into the ready stance, ready to attack. "I see that you must be subjected more pain before you will accept what you know to be true," he said coldly. "I will do what I must."

Anakin's lip curled into a resolute sneer of contempt.

"You will try."

The Chosen One and the Dark Lord of the Sith sprang into the air head on to meet each other, the air around them crackling with dark side power.

In the currents of the Force, the balance of the galaxy shifted.

In the designs of fate, the destiny of an Empire was altered.

In the unseen darkness, two hearts broke.

* * *

Yes, I know that there was no Mace/Yoda/Sidious battle in this chapter. This is for flow reasons. The next chapter will feature that duel, and then it will shift back to Anakin vs. Vader. Those chapters are coming soon! 


	43. The Shatterpoint

**As promised, here is Chapter 43. This chapter will bring the Mac/Yoda/Sidious confrontation to a close. Tomorrow, if possible, I will update again with the duel on Mustafar. **

* * *

**Chapter 43**

_The light flashed, and there was pain. _

_The Jedi Padawan reeled backward, the freshly cauterized wound in his shoulder smoking slightly. Another wave of sharp agony rolled through him as he lost his balance and crashed to the floor. His lightsaber nearly slipped from his grasp._

_Bright colors swirled in front of his vision, transforming his sparring visor into a kaleidoscope of luminescence. The Force, his eternal ally, suddenly seemed to be impossible for him to reach._

_A few meters away, he could see his opponent: a Twi'lek apprentice who outstripped him in both years and experience, if not skill. Though the alien's face was also hidden behind a sparring visor, the Padawan could tell that he was smiling, savoring the taste of his apparent victory. As his sense of the Force began to return, the young Jedi could feel his opponent's satisfaction – raw and untamed. It burned in him like a lit torch, contained only by the watchful guidance of the dozen masters present for the match. _

_The sight of his opponent's – his enemy's – gloating was too much. The Padawan felt something burst inside his chest; the wall that held back his emotions. A rising tide of rage filled him, staining his world the color of blood. He would not suffer being beaten by an inferior opponent, no matter what it cost him._

_The Padawan gathered all his strength, all his anger, and sprang to his feet, channeling it into physical power. With his piercing vision, he could see the Twi'lek's eyes widen in surprise and fear behind his visor. With his keen perceptions, he could sense his adversary's panic as he scrambled to bring his blade back into position. It was all for nothing._

_The Padawan launched a crushing attack, his one strike sending the Twi'lek's blade flying away. The point of his blade grazed the armor plate that covered his opponent's chest, melting the plastisteel and nearly punching completely through. The Padawan combined his attack with a powerful Force push that sent the Twi'lek staggering backward to crash into the circle of observers. He collapsed to the floor in a tangled heap, definitively beaten._

_The Padawan twirled his lightsaber with a flourish and removed his helmet. He no longer noticed the dull throbbing of his wounded shoulder. Against the instincts of his training, he allowed the same emotions that he had sensed in his adversary moments before to flood him. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, half-expecting to hear applause commending his performance._

_But there was no applause. There was only the calm, yet powerful presence that he knew all too well pressing down on his mind. It radiated strong disapproval._

_His triumph slipping away, eight-year old Mace Windu swallowed his pride and turned to face his Jedi Master._

_Yoda stood still with his arms crossed, resting on his cane, looking up at his student with that stern gaze which could humble even the most accomplished Jedi. Mace quickly deactivated his blade and bowed, hoping that such a display might lessen the severity of Yoda's coming lecture. As he had expected, it did him no good._

_Yoda tapped his cane slowly. "Know what you did, do you?"_

_Mace swallowed. "Yes, Master. I gave into my anger. I lost control."_

"_Hmmm," Yoda grunted. "Know why, do you?"_

"_I … He …" Mace stammered. "He wounded me. I had to regain an advantage."_

_Yoda sighed. "So it was victory you sought, hmmm?"_

"_Yes, Master. A Jedi must win his battles if he is to protect what he seeks to defend."_

"_Yes, defend what he holds dear, a Jedi must," Yoda said. "But come at any price, victory cannot. Overlooking the path to reach the goal … the way to the dark side, that is."_

"_But if your opponent is evil …" Mace asked him, "Is it wrong to want to destroy him so that good can prevail?"_

_Yoda raised an eyebrow. "Evil, your opponent was?"_

_Mace looked over his shoulder, where the young Twi'lek was being helped out of the sparring room by two of the older apprentices. He looked down at his boots, ashamed. "No, Master."_

"_Careful you must be when judging your adversary," Yoda told him. "Evil he may appear to you, when he opposes what you believe to be right, but inside his heart, goodness there is. Blindly ignore it, you cannot."_

"_So are you saying that it's wrong to fight our enemies?" Mace asked. "We should only try to resolve a dispute peacefully? What if that doesn't work?"_

"_Questions, questions! Be patient, you must!" Yoda exclaimed. "Listen to me, young Padawan. If fail, an attempt at a peaceful resolution does, then uphold our mandate, we must. Bound to protect the Republic, we are." His bright green eyes held Mace's gaze. "But hate your opponent, you must not. If give into your anger, you do, lose yourself, you will, as well as that which you seek to defend."_

_Mace stayed silent, running the implications of what Yoda was telling him through his mind. They seemed sound and sensible. However, there was still something pulling at him._

"_Master?"_

"_Hmmm?"_

_Mace tried to weigh his words carefully. "What if there was an entity, an opponent, that had absolutely no good at all in its heart? Pure evil, with no redeeming qualities. A creature born of the Dark Side of the Force, bent on the destruction of the light. Would it be wrong to hate such an entity? Would it be wrong to want to see it destroyed?"_

_Yoda was silent for a long moment. The sparring room had emptied, and the two of them were alone, the fading rays of Coruscant's sunset just visible through the high window. Finally, the great Jedi Master spoke._

"_Serve the Force, Jedi must" he said. "The existence of such a creature would threaten all life. Stopped, it must be." He began to make his way towards the door. "But fought, evil can be, without giving into hate. To stand against the heart of the darkness while still following the light, a true Jedi it would take. Only by completely trusting the Force, and yourself, would you emerge successful. When the time comes …" he looked back over his shoulder at his young apprentice, "Understand, you will."_

_With those words, Yoda left the sparring chamber, the sound of his cane echoing through the halls until it was too far away to hear. Mace remained motionless, trying to visualize the face of the darkness, and how it could be shattered with the light._

The light flashed, and there was pain.

Mace Windu grimaced ever so slightly as his opponent's fiery red blade tore once more into his shoulder. The wound itself was not serious enough to inhibit him; the great Jedi Master had fought his way through much more crippling injuries. But the dull, burning sensation that spread from his shoulder to deep within his core served as a bitter, mocking reminder of the much greater battle he was fighting in his heart, where a lesson unlearned was slowly smashing down the foundations of everything he had built over his entire life as a Jedi.

Mace was a warrior, and he had never been afraid to demonstrate his full power in combat. Vaapad, his personalized fighting style, made him nearly invincible in combat by channeling his darkest emotions into weapons he could wield for the light. Drawing on his unmatched experience, his prodigious skill, and the unique powers bestowed upon him by daring to tread the edge of the darkness, Mace had managed to defeat among others Jango Fett, General Grievous, and the _lor pelek_ Kar Vastor. Though he had passed through each trial scarred and changed, he had never fallen. He had never given in to hate.

Until now. For the first time since he had attained the rank of Jedi Master, he was losing control of his emotions. He was finding it impossible _not_ to hate his opponent, the Sith Lord who had brilliantly and systematically destroyed everything that Mace had sworn to defend. Unlike the others, Sidious had _chosen_ evil, and was relishing the freedom it gave him from the moral responsibility of being human.

Fighting back the fiery agony that spread from his cauterized shoulder wound, Mace reversed his grip on his lightsaber and brought the blade around for a counterslash. Sidious blocked the attack with a whirling riposte that nearly sent Mace spinning from the Chancellor's podium. Behind the Emperor, Yoda launched an attack, grabbing the Darksider's attention and preventing him from finishing off Mace while the Korun Master struggled to regain control.

Mace could feel Yoda's mental state through their deeply anchored Force bond. The great Jedi Master was tired – very tired. He had had to bear the full brunt of Sidious's rage for several minutes while Mace had been climbing up the support column to reach them, and the stress had clearly taken its toll.

Nevertheless, Mace could detect none of the frustration and anger that he was fighting within Yoda. Despite being pushed to the limit, the Grandmaster was resisting the dark emotions that pull at him with the stability of an ageless mountain. Mace knew that Yoda would surrender his life before he would surrender himself to the Darkside. For him, victory would not come at any price.

Why then, could Mace not say the same?

Yoda flipped backwards then launched himself at Sidious's torso, his green blade moving too fast to track. He dealt the Sith Lord a punishing strike, sending the Count's lightsaber flying away. Sidious began to sway unsteadily at the platform's edge, and Yoda moved in for a follow-up attack.

Sidious gathered his power in the Force and shoved Yoda backwards. Yoda tumbled over into an adjacent seat, nearly falling off the podium altogether. Cackling, the Emperor reached into the Dark Side, summoning his hatred to smite his foe.

Mace leapt up from his downed position and kicked him in his emaciated chest with all the force he could muster. Sidious's cackling morphed into a shriek of surprised rage as he flew backwards off the speaker's podium and began to plummet towards the distant chamber floor. For a moment Mace thought that his enemy might be defeated, seconds away from fatal impact, but the Dark Lord of the Sith reached into the Force and used it to steer himself towards the Senators' platforms. He landed on one of them twenty meters above the ground, and immediately looked up at the podium to spy the Jedi Master staring down at him. With a snarl, he turned and began to leap up the platforms like they were steps, with far more agility than Mace would have believed him capable of.

Mace tensed his legs, then sprang from the podium, a high arcing leap that carried him thirty meters to the opposite wall. He landed on a delegate's platform ten steps down from the top row, then spotted the Emperor charging towards him from below. Mace saw Yoda pursuing him, and knew that the Grandmaster must have followed right on his heels, only taking a different angle to trap Sidious between them.

A burning heat ignited in Mace's chest. They had to finish this now. Sooner or later, Sidious would abandon his efforts to subdue them himself and try to escape, leaving them at the mercy of his security forces. Then he would be free to unleash a new wave of suffering upon the innocent denizens of the galaxy. Mace would not let that happen. If he had to tread closer to the Dark Side than he ever had, if he had to risk becoming the demon that he sought to destroy, so be it.

The Korun Master opened himself to his emotions, allowing the dark power that dwelt within his heart to emerge and fall into harmony with Vaapad. Almost immediately he became acutely aware of the power that was Palpatine, subconsciously attempting to exert its will through the new door that had opened. Mace did not shut it out. If he could resist the hypnotic pull for a few minutes, the voice would die forever.

He jumped down to Sidious's level and squared off against him, the heart of his purple blade pulsing with a stranger, darker power. He brought it up in a high chopping swing, which Sidious countered, barely. Mace saw the Emperor's sickly orange eyes widen slightly as he discerned the state of Mace's mind. A wave of fear rolled off of him, and though he covered it with a cruel laugh, Mace felt a hot eagerness race through him. His world had turned the color of blood, and he could taste it.

The Jedi Master whirled his blade around in a dazzling series of moves – slash, stab, counter, slash, parry, thrust. The Emperor was weakening, he could sense it. Less than ten meters away, he could see Yoda closing in fast. If he could keep Palpatine's attention on him for a few more seconds, then Yoda would be in perfect position to deliver the killing strike.

The Emperor sensed Mace's intentions, and his panic permeated the Force. Quickly he tried to duck away and get Mace in between him and Yoda, but Mace would have none of it. He delivered a powerful strike and pinned the Emperor's blade, locking their weapons together. Sidious tried desperately to pull free, but he could not compete with Mace's sheer physical power. Yoda sprang into the air, ready to end it.

But out of pure desperation, Sidious did something that Mace had not anticipated: he let go of his blade. Free to move, he flipped over Mace's head and landed on a higher platform. Both Mace and Yoda spun around, tracking their now-weaponless foe. Sidious gathered his power and unleashed twin blasts of torrential Force Lightning.

It hit Mace harder than any attack so far. He reeled backward, discharge surrounding his blade as he fought to keep the deadly tendrils from catching him in their embrace once more. A few paces to his right, Yoda was holding back an identical stream of energy. His Force signature pulsed with power, and Mace sensed Yoda reaching out to him, urging him to share their strength as they resisted the Dark Lord.

Mace acknowledged the Grandmaster, and slowly they began to advance against the Emperor. Sidious intensified his assault, and Mace could feel stray tendrils snaking past his guard and striking his body. He ignored them, channeling his pain into the Vaapad superconducting loop that allowed him to reflect the lightning. They reached the Emperor.

The Force Lightning weakened and died, and Sidious fell back. Mace leveled his blade at the cornered Emperor.

"It's over," he intoned, his voice rumbling with a dangerous power. "Yield, or die."

Summoning air into his wheezing lungs, Sidious laughed.

"I am Emperor! I yield to no one, not even death itself!"

Mace growled and he and Yoda raised their blades to deliver the strike that would free the galaxy.

"NOW!"

The Emperor screeched his command and folded in on himself, a protective shield of Force energy springing into existence around him. In an instant, Mace became aware of an impending danger, approaching faster and faster by the second …

"JUMP!"

Yoda seized Mace's arm and carried him high into the air … less than a second before a missile fired from a Merr-Sonn prototype rocket launcher detonated on the platform where they had been standing.

A wave of sheer concussive force slammed into the Jedi Masters, sending them spiraling out of control on the edge of a blossoming fireball. Mace lost his grip on Yoda and was dimly aware of hurtling towards the distant floor at a terrifying speed. He reached into the Force and tried to slow his descent, and began to level off, but had to juke several times while falling to avoid debris from the explosion was that falling around him.

After what seemed like an eternity, his feet landed on the floor of the Senate Chamber, where Yoda had touched down moments before. But one glance was all it took for Mace to realize that the ground was no safer than the air had been. Pouring into the chamber from all visible entrances were hundreds of armed clones.

Mace pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it. Yoda did the same. The clones raised their blaster rifles, and far above Emperor Palpatine, unscathed from the detonation, roared an order at his troops.

"KILL THEM!"

Yoda sighed. "In bloodshed, end it must."

"Yes," Mace said, pulling out his comlink. "But not as the Emperor would have it."

Yoda looked at him. "Contacting who, are you?"

Mace hit the transmit button, then stowed the comlink away and smiled.

"Backup."

* * *

Cackling, Emperor Palpatine watched with mirth as his soldiers encircled the helpless Jedi. Yes, they had given him a challenge for a while there, but with their blind conception of nobility, they had once again forgotten that it did not matter how you obtained your result, as long as you got what you wanted. He would have liked to kill his two chief antagonists himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy watching as they were butchered from a position of safety.

Streaks of red were now dancing across the floor, converging at the center where Mace Windu and Yoda stood, bravely but hopelessly defending their position. They were deflecting most of the bolts back at their attackers, and at least a dozen of his troops had already fallen, but Palpatine wasn't worried. Even Jedi could only fight so long before they got tired and made a mistake.

Yet as five minutes approached, the Emperor began to get impatient. Yes, the Jedi were slowing considerably, but so were the attack waves of his troops. The battle was heading for a stalemate, the kind that could drag on for hours. The Emperor didn't want to wait hours; he had other business to attend to today.

Palpatine looked over to his right, where a few stories above lay the sniper who had fired the rocket earlier. He made a signal, indicating that he should fire again and end the battle. The soldier made another motion indicating a high probability of friendly causalities. Palpatine waved it off. It would be an acceptable loss.

The sniper leveled the rocket launcher to his shoulder and was preparing to squeeze the trigger, when out of nowhere a bright green bolt shot up and struck him in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

The Emperor whirled around to face the direction from which the shot had come, just in time to hear a howling alien battle cry. At that moment, several dozen Wookiees raced into the chamber, brandishing archaic-looking bowcasters and an assortment of other weapons. They crashed into the flanks of his troops, scattering them as they raced for the Jedi.

The Emperor snarled in disgust. There was no way that a motley group of primitive walking carpets was going to rob him of the pleasure of seeing these Jedi killed. Signaling to his assembled royal guards, he made for the nearest turbolift, heading down to a level closer to the battle.

* * *

The Wookiee assault caught the clone troopers completely by surprise, providing Mace and Yoda with some much-needed breathing room. Yoda took advantage of the distraction to leap away from the dangerously open center of the room and towards a Wookiee who was smashing a pair of armored heads together. Mace caught up with Yoda just as the Wookiee had dropped the unconscious clones and turned to face them.

A smile crossed Yoda's battle-weary face. "Glad to see you we are, Chewbacca."

The Wookiee's savage mouth curled into a grin. _And I you. We feared the worst when we heard what had befallen the Jedi._

"A tragedy, it is" Yoda agreed. "but unfinished work, we have here. Hold the line, can you?"

Chewbacca shook his head. _We fight bravely, but we are too few. They will soon overwhelm us. We can only last long enough to ensure your escape._

"Escape is not our plan," Mace said steadily. "We must finish what we came to do."

Chewbacca turned to look at Mace. _If you must, then we will stay with you. But many will die._

Yoda shook his head. "No. Died today, enough have. Withdraw, we will."

Mace looked at Yoda, stunned. "Master …"

Yoda turned his piercing green gaze upward. "Fought well, we have, Master Windu. But no more can we do. Not the will of the Force, it is, that Palpatine shall die at our hands."

Mace wanted to argue. He couldn't stand this. He needed this evil to be destroyed now, no matter what it cost him. But the look in Yoda's eyes told him that the great Jedi Master knew what had taken hold of Mace, and was urging him to resist it. Slowly, reluctantly, Mace let go.

Chewbacca let loose a mournful growl. _General Tarfful has ordered that he will cover the retreat. He will not see reason. The treacherous Empire killed his family, and now he seeks vengeance, or death._

Mace looked in the direction that Chewbacca had indicated, and noticed the towering Wookiee General tearing through clone troopers like hot metal through nerf butter. Blood poured from several ragged wounds, but he battled on, oblivious to everything but his enemies in his rage.

Chewbacca indicated the nearest exit with his bowcaster. _This way._

The Jedi and the Wookiees began to withdraw, fighting their way through the waves of determined clone soldiers. Many meters away, Tarfful and a small group of Wookiees repeatedly dove for the thickest group of soldiers, sending enemies and their limbs scattering every which way. Mace kept looking back, unwilling to leave them behind.

They were almost out of the chamber when a familiar blue burst of energy lanced down amidst the group of Wookies. Several of the brave creatures collapsed, spasms wracking their bodies. Mace looked up and saw Emperor Palpatine, surrounded by royal guards, sending deadly pulses of power into the midst of the formation, decimating the rear guard. At the rate that they were falling, the Jedi and the rest of the Wookiees would not make it out of the chamber in time, but instead be cut off by the rest of the clone troopers, suddenly without an obstacle in their path.

General Tarfful roared his defiance at the sneering Emperor, then leapt onto the nearest row of platforms, sinking his claws in as far as they would go into the metal. The surviving Wookiees of the rear guard followed him, only to be cut down by lightning or blaster bolts from behind. Tarfful struggled on, fighting his way up the platforms towards the Sith Lord.

The battle at the front was intensifying, and the vanguard was starting to waver as Wookiees were diverted to fight the greater threat approaching from behind. They were going to be overrun soon. In the midst of the heated battle, Mace closed his eyes for a moment and established contact with his innermost level of being, where his connection to the Force was most pure. There, surrounded by chaos, he was able to obtain a brief glimpse of what the future held, and with it came an overwhelming sense of peace, of _rightness_. He knew what the Force wanted him to do, what he _needed_ to do.

Mace turned and began to head back towards the center of the chamber, where the rear guard had broken at last. Yoda pulled himself out of the battle for a moment to stare at Mace, and the Jedi sensed something he never thought he would ever since in his old master and friend: surprise and bewilderment.

Mace sent him a thought. _You told me once that when I faced off against an absolute evil, the time would come when I would understand what I needed to do, how to fight it without giving into hate. This is that time, and this is my path. The Force has spoken to me._

Yoda's surprise faded, replaced by the world-weary look that Mace knew so well. _A warrior, you were born to be, Mace. To defend the lives of others, your gift, it is. Go, and may the Force be with you._

Mace smiled. _I will see you again, old friend. One day …_

He turned away and charged towards the onrushing clones. His lightsaber glowed with a powerful energy, even stronger than the darkness that it had held a short time before. The clones, hardened soldiers though they were, reeled backwards in surprise and fear.

Several levels above, Tarfful had reached Emperor Palpatine. The Sith fell back, and the furious Wookiee swung his fist, knocking two of the royal guards off their feet. He howled his defiance once more, then moved in.

Palpatine let loose a concentrated blast of pure hatred. The lightning struck Tarfful full in the chest, burning through his body and stopping his heart instantly. The mighty Wookiee froze, then staggered backwards and fell over the edge of the platform, his face still frozen in its defiant call.

Palpatine laughed in triumph, believing that the last of the rear guard had fallen.

He was wrong.

Mace took his stand, cutting through the clone soldiers who rushed him without malice or hatred, but with an unshakeable sense of purpose. With each life he took, he felt the loss, but also the renewal that came as each being once more returned to the medium from which it had sprung. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was neither good nor evil, but simply natural, and in harmony with the will of the Force.

Yoda, Chewbacca, and the rest of the Wookiee soldiers reached the exit and broke through. As he disappeared through the portal, Mace felt Yoda reach out to him, filling the bond they shared with confidence and strength. No words were exchanged; they were not needed. They understood one another completely.

Mace savored the feeling of unity for one more second, and then let it go. He had all the strength he needed.

The clones continued to come, the intensity of their attack reaching its peak. Palpatine was screaming in rage, calling for all manner of ordnance to be directed at the Jedi Master. Mace was not affected. He blocked the lasers, he dodged the missiles, and he let no one get past him.

He had no idea how long he made his stand. Time had disappeared, and he had entered a state of consciousness where no such limitations were needed to define his sense of self. It was the perfect state, the one he had been trying to reach all his life, only never to have succeeded. He knew that he would likely never reach it again, but that was not important. The memory of this one moment would last him forever.

Palpatine had disappeared, fleeing back into the heart of the Senate Chamber. Nevertheless, Mace felt himself being pushed back, through the exit he had guarded, deeper and deeper down into the lower levels. The darkness of the Emperor's will remained on all sides, rising up against the lone light that held it at bay. But no matter how hard the darkness tried, however, it could not smother Mace. It was but an absence, an emptiness, while Mace was filled with a real sense of being. He did not need to destroy the darkness – he just needed to endure, and the light he carried within him would ultimately prevail.

And Mace knew that he would endure. As long as the light lived within him, he had the strength to do so, to fulfill his destiny. Whether his life lasted only a few more seconds or the rest of eternity, he would fight, he would defend what he loved, he would endure …

…To the end.


	44. Showdown on Mustafar

**Chapter 44**

_"Anakin!" _

Anakin Skywalker, panting with fatigue, a fresh coat of sweat covering his face, pulled himself into a standing position, his chest and stomach aching from the painful burn that he had just received at the hand of his opponent. His lightsaber, which just seconds ago had been spun expertly from his grasp, had ceased rolling and come to rest about five meters away, against the far wall of the sparring chamber. Without his precious weapon, Anakin felt exposed, and even worse, vulnerable. He despised the feeling with every fiber of his being, and wished with all his might that he had not tried to show off quite so much. There would not be serious consequences – apart from him and his opponent, the chamber was empty, so he was to be spared unnecessary humiliation. Even the burn he received was inconsequential, for their weapons had been set at their lowest power level, an intensity that could only cut through the thinnest material. Nevertheless, Anakin would have preferred a moderate injury to the lecture that was sure to follow.

Obi-Wan deactivated his own blade and held it loosely at his side, letting out an exasperated and all-too-familiar sigh. "Anakin, what were you doing?"

The eighteen year old Padawan lowered his head, unwilling to meet the judgmental scrutiny that he knew would be lingering in Obi-Wan's sharp blue eyes. "Master, I was …taking a creative liberty."

Though he couldn't see it, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan had just raised his eyebrow. "A creative liberty? That is what you call such an extravagant move?"

Anakin shrugged, hot shame burning in his throat. "I'm sorry, Master."

Obi-Wan sighed again. "Anakin, look at me."

Reluctantly, Anakin raised his head. To his surprise, Obi-Wan's eyes did not hold the disapproving, judgmental look that he had been expecting. They simply looked tired.

"You were using textbook form for several minutes," Obi-Wan said. "And then, suddenly, you abandoned it for a complex and inefficient maneuver. Why?"

Anakin swallowed. "I was trying to take you by surprise."

"You succeeded," Obi-Wan quipped, "Although not in the manner that you had hoped to, I believe. Anakin, do you realize that up until that point, you had the advantage in our duel?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, Master. I thought that you did."

"Hardly," Obi-Wan told him. "You are faster, stronger, and younger than I am, and you would have worn me down eventually. The only reason that I was able to turn the tables so suddenly was that I was patient, and I waited for my opportunity to strike. Then I was ready for it when it came. I capitalized on the opening that you gave me, but I never overextended myself. Do you see what I am saying?"

Anakin nodded grudgingly. "Yeah. I do."

"Anakin, listen to me," Obi-Wan said seriously. "You are proud of your dueling skills, and with good reason. At eighteen, you are extremely accomplished, capable of defeating any Padawan or Knight who challenges you, and a good percentage of the Masters as well. You even have the hardware to prove it." He cast a meaningful glance at Anakin's tunic, beneath which the Padawan wore the medallion he had earned by winning the Temple's annual Knight's division sparring competition that year. "Certain aspects of your dueling ability are so advanced that you have not needed a complete skill set to succeed."

"It wasn't enough against you, though," Anakin muttered. He didn't know what else to do.

"Yes, Anakin, and that's because skill and physical power are not the only facets of your ability that you should utilize. You also need to exercise patience and balance, sometimes conceding your opponent a point or two to keep your overall goal within reach. I know that this is difficult for you to understand, but you don't have to be completely dominant to win a duel. You just have to be strong enough and well-rounded enough to outlast your opponent, while controlling a few key aspects."

"But my style is different from yours, Master," Anakin objected. "Djem So utilizes …"

"I know, Anakin," Obi-Wan interrupted. "But this lesson isn't form specific, and I'm not trying to convert you to my way of fighting. We each have our own strengths, and this advice will help you take advantage of yours."

Anakin could think of no rebuttal, so he bought himself time by directing his attention to the side of the room and summoning his lightsaber back to him. When he looked up again, Obi-Wan was standing right in front of him. His master reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, the instructor's manner giving way to the comforting demeanor of a close friend.

"Don't worry too much about it, Anakin," he said warmly. "You have time. As your knowledge of the Force grows, so will your confidence. It won't be long before you can handle whatever challenge comes your way."

Anakin's face broke into a smile, an expression that carried with it a deep sense of relief. "Well, maybe not every challenge. You would probably still find a way to beat me, if it ever came down to it and we faced off in a real duel."

Obi-Wan laughed, and together the two friends headed for the door.

"With the grace of the Force, we never will."

* * *

Fire had consumed Anakin Skywalker's universe. The deadly landscape of Mustafar burned around him with an ancient destructive power that could never be quelled. Instinctively hostile, the demonic world possessed the capability to bring out the worst in life, inspiring the most savage emotions and encouraging the darkest inclinations. As the heavy sulfurous atmosphere swirled around him and permeated his lungs, Anakin felt the walls he had built within his soul disintegrating, allowing the darkness which he had contained for so many years to escape and fuse with his sense of purpose. The rage that had come to him when confronting Asajj Ventress merged with it seamlessly, forging the foundation of the resolve that he would need to strike down his brother.

Anakin wasted no time with feeling out his opponent. He launched head-first into an all-out attack, the fury of which immediately thrust Darth Vader onto the defensive. Tension built up in his arms, only to be released a second later with a swing of crushing power. The attack was intercepted by the opposing lightsaber, and within half a second Anakin had withdrawn his blade and struck again with even greater veracity. This time, he got closer to striking his opponent's body, but was parried again. Undaunted, Anakin chained together twenty slashes in quick succession, failing to punch through Vader's guard, but succeeding in driving the darksider ruthlessly backward.

Dimly, from the edges of his senses, Anakin could perceive a woman screaming. She was trailing helplessly in his wake, pleading desperately with him and his opponent to stop their fight. But the roaring in his ears was so great that her words failed to reach his rational mind, and her entreaty was futile. All Anakin could focus on was the familiar, but now contemptible face of his former master, twisted into an inhuman snarl as he fought off Anakin's deadly assault.

The young Jedi's rampage took the two combatants to the furthest reaches of the platform, Vader's heels touched the edge, where three hundred meters below a boiling river of molten magma flowed slowly by. Unable to retreat any further, Vader took a stand, grounding himself in place with the Force. As Anakin tried to chain a final slash onto the end of his combination, Vader slammed his blade forward, arresting his motion in mid-swing. Whipping his weapon around in a circle, Vader forced Anakin to take a step back, giving the Sith Lord the space he needed to escape his prison. He quickly somersaulted through the air to the catwalk leading back to the control room.

Anakin turned, cursing inwardly that Vader had maneuvered himself out of trouble. A challenging snarl crossed the Dark Lord's face, inciting his former apprentice to follow him. Anakin took the challenge, rushing Vader head-on and once more locking their weapons in combat.

The two powerful Force-users traded rapid blows, their blades moving too fast for an untrained human eye to track. The woman's plea's had reached a feverish pitch, but she could not draw close to the combatants for fear of being hit by their flailing lightsabers, and neither Anakin nor Vader could spare any attention for her. They advanced along the short catwalk at a furious pace, until they both passed through the narrow doorway leading into a connecting corridor. The pneumatic portal sealed itself with a definitive hiss, and the sounds of Sabé's tearful appeals were ruthlessly cut off.

The duel instantly became much more dangerous in the close confines. With no room for elaborate moves such as flips or spins, the emphasis of the battle shifted to physical power – and it was there that Anakin held the greatest advantage. Already equipped with the advantage of being able to move forward instead of retreating, Anakin pressed the Sith Lord determinedly backwards. A lesser opponent would have been scrambling to survive more than a few paces, but backed by the Dark Side and his own considerable physical prowess, Vader was able to stave off death without spending all of his energy.

Nevertheless, the Sith Lord was angry; Anakin could see it in his eyes. Obi-Wan Kenobi might have thrived on spending the entire battle on the defensive, waiting for his opportunity to turn the tables, but that was not Vader's way. Despite using the same style of combat as he had as a Jedi, Vader wanted to use his defense as an offense, suffocating his opponent with a shield of quick parries that he could turn into brutal slashes in less than a second. Anakin could sense him counting down the steps until they reached the control room at the end of the corridor, where the open space would level the playing field.

Anakin's anger surged at his former master's arrogant anticipation – he would not give him such an opportunity. The Chosen One increased the power of his strokes, sending his blade and his opponent's careening into the walls with every clash and releasing a violent shower of hot sparks. The air in the corridor grew progressively hotter, and it seemed that the end was near for one of the participants – until they reached the control room.

Vader immediately did a complete back flip, landing in the center of the room. Anakin noticed that it was strewn with bodies – exactly as the Jedi Temple had been when he had met Vader for the first time. But unlike then, he felt no outrage at the sight of so much death – the Separatist leaders were not worthy of his pity. The wave of hot anger that burned through his body stemmed from the treacherous Dark Lord evading his blade yet again.

He moved forward, intending to engage his opponent once more. But Vader had had enough of playing the defensive battle. With a speed that no mortal should have possessed, he sprang to attack.

The Chosen One found himself at the mercy of his former master, frantically parrying strike after strike as Vader's blade descended upon him with all the fury of the Dark Side. As he fought for his life, Anakin could not help but notice that Vader had abandoned Soresu, the form he had sworn by for thirteen years, entirely. The wide sweeping cuts and acrobatic attacks that were being directed at him now were distinctive characteristics of the Ataru style, which Obi-Wan had used as a Padawan. The last time he had employed it, Anakin remembered, had been to strike down the Sith Lord who had killed Qui-Gon on Naboo all those years ago. The user's focused rage made the form deadly.

Anakin had no time for further deliberation on the ironic shift unfolding before him. He threw all of his energy into offsetting the advantage that Vader had seized. With a series of determined slashes, he gained some slight reprieve from the threat of destruction hanging over him. Through the blinding blue barrier that their blades formed between them, he could see Vader's face. The Sith Lord's piercing blue eyes shone with a dark inner power that manifested itself in the roiling waves of Dark Side energy surrounding his body, as well as the sparks of fiery yellow that sometimes overtook them. Vader's teeth were clenched in a resolute snarl. He was not holding back.

The Sith Lord's blade crashed down in a shower of sparks centimeters from Anakin's right arm. Seizing his chance, Anakin pinned his blade, then drew back his left fist and punched Vader full in the face. The jarring impact sent a reciprocal shock back up Anakin's arm, as though he had punched a durasteel wall. Nevertheless, Vader staggered backwards, stunned by the force of the blow. Anakin quickly followed up with a brutal kick to the abdomen that sent Vader flying. Unfortunately, it also sent both of their lightsabers, locked together, spinning away.

Anakin charged toward his downed opponent at the far end of the room. Vader sprang to his feet with surprising agility to meet him.

Anakin unloaded on his opponent with a scything hook aimed at the side of Vader's head. The Sith Lord blocked the powerful punch. Undaunted, Anakin spun around and smashed his elbow into Vader's jaw. Vader absorbed the painful blow with difficulty. But as Anakin came in with another attack, Vader's hand shot out and seized his former apprentice by the back of the head. With malicious vehemence, he forced it down into direct contact with his rising knee.

Stars exploded in Anakin's field of vision, temporarily blinding him. His skull felt as though it had been split in half. Through the Force, he was barely able to locate Vader as the Sith Lord flung him unceremoniously away.

Anakin hit the ground hard in the center of the room. His vision clearing, he spied Vader coming towards him and quickly tried to rise. Not quickly enough.

Vader delivered a punishing headbutt that sent the Chosen One straight back down to the ground. A sickening wave of agony crashed through Anakin's body; somehow he was able to stop himself from screaming. Through his pain he could see Vader summoning his lightsaber back to him, preparing to deliver a crippling or even killing strike.

As always, the looming prospect of death sharpened Anakin's mind. His consciousness sliced through the fog of pain that had consumed him, reaching out for his lightsaber several meters away. Through the Force the weapon responded to his call instantly, like an old friend, and jumped back into his outstretched hand. As Vader's blade descended towards him, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, and holding it horizontally half a meter above him, blocked the Sith Lord's strike.

Vader tried to force the locked blades down towards his former apprentice. Anakin resisted him, eyes hardening into diamond chips as he concentrated. Sensing that the stalemate would not soon be broken, the Chosen One summoned the Force's energy into a powerful push that flung Vader away from him. He rolled head over heels into a crouch, then leapt to a standing position as Vader raced back to engage him again.

They traded a few parries, neither one gaining the advantage they sought. Anakin spun three hundred and sixty degrees and slashed across his body, only to meet Vader countering with an identical move. Anakin then tried to lead into an uppercut, but Vader had the same idea, and their blades clashed once more, sliding from left to right and crossing directly between their faces.

His frustration and rage building, Anakin spun once more, this time leading with his hand extended to deliver another Force push. Vader pulled the exact same stunt. The two opposing waves of power slammed into each other the centimeters between Anakin's and Vader's outstretched palms, two antagonistic wills forced together into direct confrontation. Anakin held on, his teeth tearing into his lower lip as he strained to keep up the pressure. Directly across from him, he could see beads of sweat rapidly gathering on Vader's forehead, sliding down the bridge of his nose and falling into the dark folds of his cloak. Their eyes locked, blue warring with blue, yellow with yellow, red with red.

Their resistance broke at almost exactly the same time. The staredown ended as Vader was thrown backwards, flying almost ten meters before his back collided with a hard stone pillar. The air left his lungs in an agonized gasp. Anakin had no time to appreciate it, however, because he was simultaneously gathered up by the invisible force and flung towards the far corner of the room. He slammed unmercifully into a control panel, a long metal lever jamming itself into his kidney. Savage pain boiled through his blood, and a coppery taste filled his mouth, but he refused to fold as he rolled off the panel and found his feet once more.

Vader was rising up again as well. There was a trail of blood running down his chin, suggesting that like Anakin, he had suffered some minor internal trauma. The intensity of the fire in his eyes was terrifying.

The Dark Lord of the Sith vaulted towards Anakin. The turbulent Jedi summoned the Force to aid his leap, and met Vader. They fell to the ground locked in combat, close to another control panel. Anakin swung full-force, and the sheer power of his attack carried both his and Vader's blades into the panel's display monitor.

Alarms began to shriek through the air and the image on the panel began to flash bright red, warning that the facility's main heat shields had been deactivated. An ominous groan shook the control room as it was exposed to the full force of the elements, the searing wind and the flying debris. Neither combatant cared.

Vader pulled his blade free of the sparking console and lunged for his former apprentice. Anakin retreated, drawing closer and closer to the blast door leading to a narrow catwalk outside. He used the Force to open the door, gritting his teeth as the hot air assailed him in a suffocating wave. Deliberately, he stepped back through the portal, enticing his opponent to enter a much more dangerous arena. Vader did not hesitate to follow him.

* * *

The clone's mask stared up at him. Its fearsome features were still cold and menacing, but ultimately empty. Lifeless. Beneath the mask there was another face, now equally cold, equally lifeless. A mask of death had once more descended upon the face of Jango Fett, as it had thousands of times before. Nearby lay the bodies of the soldier's brothers, dozens of them, every one marked by the same distinctive scar through which his life had ebbed away.

Snarling in anger, Emperor Palpatine put out his foot and flipped the dead clone over onto its face, not willing to tolerate the sight of such failure.

He raised his head to survey the Senate Chamber, a scene of carnage. Over fifty of his finest clone soldiers lay scattered near the ground entrance, slain. Palpatine knew that more lined the tunnel leading out of Assembly Hall, and still more would be scattered in the endless network of tunnels, service passageways, and sewers beneath Coruscant, through which the treacherous Jedi Master had retreated. As recently as twenty standard minutes ago, the sounds of blasters and a raging battle could be heard from the tunnels even from the Senate Chamber itself. Now, it was eerily silent.

Mas Amedda stood quietly several paces behind his master, holding the Imperial Staff and waiting for his master to either give a command or, more likely, explode with anger. Palpatine did neither. Instead he stood silently, brooding on an opportunity lost.

He had been anticipating that at least one survivor of Order 66 would make his or her way to Coruscant and confront him, and he had planned accordingly. Not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that not only would _two_ Jedi come, they would be the two most renowned Jedi Masters of the Old Order. It had seemed as if the Force had granted its master a token of its submission by yielding up the last of those who could stand against him. Palpatine had decided to fully seize this chance to assert his superiority by taking them both on at once and crushing them with his Dark Side power.

He had come so close to succeeding. Once they were separated, neither Mace Windu nor Yoda was a match for him, especially in their weakened conditions. He had had them at his mercy. But then, Windu had finally decided to stop cowering in the face of true power and embrace it, taking advantage of his dark emotions to find the necessary strength. The tables had been turned, and Palpatine had very nearly been destroyed. Had it not been for his contingency plan, the glorious reign of the Emperor would have ended before it truly left its mark on the galaxy.

Yet even then, the light-sided fools had managed to thwart their fate. Through the intervention of those disgusting aliens, Master Yoda had almost certainly managed to slip away once more. And Master Windu … the Emperor wasn't sure about him yet. The Korun Master had foolishly decided to take a stand, possibly intending to sacrifice himself in order to insure the others' escape. Whether or not he had succeeded in that was still to be determined. The last time Palpatine had seen him, Windu had been weakening, riddled with more blaster wounds than he cared to count. Yet still he had stood tall, continuing to fight as the clones pushed him back down into the tunnels.

With each passing minute, the Emperor grew less confident. It shouldn't take this long to find a body, and the injuries that the Jedi Master had already sustained should have killed him by now. Unless somehow Windu had managed to survive … no. He was only human, after all. Sooner or later, he would be found.

The sound of Mas Amedda clearing his throat respectfully drew the Emperor out of his musings. The Chagrin pointed towards the chamber entrance, from which Commander Thire and four other troopers were emerging. None of them were wounded, and Palpatine's spirits rose slightly. Maybe they came with good news.

Thire stopped a few paces away from his Emperor and bowed deeply as his armor would allow. The Emperor impatiently bid him to rise. "Well?"

Thire straightened. "There's no sign of his body, sir."

"Then he's not dead!" Mas Amedda snapped.

A sick feeling swept through Palpatine's stomach, but he ignored it. This report did not verify his fear that Master Windu had survived; it was simply inconclusive. Perhaps the Jedi had fallen down a garbage shaft, or had hidden from his pursuers in some remote side passageway, only to succumb to his wounds there. There was no point in speculating.

"Double your search," he ordered.

"Yes sir. Right away, sir." Thire saluted and he and his comrades withdrew, heading back towards the tunnels.

The Emperor was about to turn and issue a command to his majordomo, when suddenly a premonition seized him through the Force. The Senate Chamber melted away, becoming a hellish river of fire, on the banks of which two dark figures were battling, blue blade clashing on blue blade. The Emperor could not see their faces, but he knew who they were, and he could sense the dangerous power that enveloped them both. The Force offered him the briefest glimpse of the future, and then the vision faded away.

Palpatine spun on his heel to face Mas Amedda. "Tell Captain Kagi to prepare my shuttle for immediate takeoff."

Amedda bowed. "Yes, Master."

"I sense that Lord Vader is in danger."


	45. Fire and Blood

**Chapter 45**

_It has to be done._

Darth Vader repeated the mantra over and over in his head. There was simply no other way to justify what he was doing, not when every attack - every violent slash, every brutal stab – was cutting so deeply and so painfully into his heart. Had he not been pushed to the absolute limits of the human mind to endure, he would have cast his lightsaber away, fallen to his knees, and begged Anakin to forgive him. He could not stand to see his brother look at him with such hatred, blaming him for everything that had happened to his wife. It tore Vader apart, especially since everything he had done since joining the Sith had been to save Anakin from experiencing the same feeling of betrayal that Vader had felt when the Jedi Council abandoned him. Looking into Anakin's face, his blue eyes now brimming with pain and anger, he knew that he had failed.

_It has to be done._

Nevertheless, Vader could not help but feel anger, even rage, towards his former apprentice. How could he be so short-sighted? Could he not see that having gone through such an ordeal, he was infinitely stronger? What cursed hold had the Jedi placed on his mind that he could not understand the truth? Anakin had always been stubborn, but his current threshold for delusion and denial was staggering. He had always been able to reason before, even when he held a deep emotional stake in the matter at hand. Now, he was withdrawing further and further into a labyrinth of irrationality, and Vader's patience had finally snapped.

Anakin _would_ see the truth. He would see it, and he would embrace it, even if Vader had to reach into his mind and tear out everything that contradicted his ability to reason. It would happen even if he had to leave him bloodied and broken on the ground, hurt as badly as Vader himself had been, for it was only through pain that true revelations could come.

_It has to be done._

Vader's lungs burned, not only from exhaustion and the sulfurous atmosphere, but also from his old injury. The mechanical respirator supplementing his right lung had been damaged when Anakin had thrown him into the wall, and now his left lung was working overtime to compensate for it. By drawing on the power of the Dark Side, he was able to ensure that the loss of strength did not hinder his ability to fight, but if the duel were to drag on long enough, he would grow progressively weaker as the pain ate away at his defenses. Therefore, he had to finish off Anakin, and quickly.

Vader lashed out at Anakin's torso with blinding speed. The young Jedi countered, taking another step backwards along the extended balcony. They were a dozen meters away from the door to the control room now, drawing closer to the end of the walkway. Only a few narrow pipes branched off from there, leading into a smog so dense that Vader's eyes could barely penetrate it. If he had learned anything from this duel, it was that in close quarters Anakin would fight with an even greater intensity, but he would also be more prone to making a mistake. Vader was by no means certain that he would survive long enough to exploit that mistake, but he had to try.

He swept low with his weapon, forcing Anakin to jump to avoid his legs being severed. The Jedi did a back flip and landed a few paces closer to the end of the balcony. Vader closed the distance and engaging him once more, baring his teeth in concentrated fury as he matched Anakin's power. Anakin gave more ground.

They reached the end. The pipes shook from the stress of supporting their own weight and the tremors emanating from the mountain on which the facility was built.

Anakin's back touched the rail that bounded the balcony's edge. A mixture of surprise and anger flashed across his face as he realized that Vader had outflanked him. Smiling coldly, Vader raised his blade for the crippling strike.

Anakin flung himself out of the way, and Vader's lightsaber sheared through the protective railing. The Dark Lord of the Sith spun around, but Anakin rose up and slammed into him, knocking his former master back through the gap in the railing and onto the trembling pipeline. Vader landed hard, but managed to stay on his feet and quickly anchored himself to avoid falling into the molten abyss that yawned beneath him.

Anakin jumped down and landed like a cat, perfectly balanced. He advanced towards Vader, his face deadly. The Sith laughed, an action that he knew would provoke Anakin further. The time had come to raise the stakes.

Anakin lunged at Vader with blade extended, then reversed his grip and struck hard at his chest. Vader parried, then countered. Anakin blocked the high strike, and their weapons locked again. Vader seized Anakin's arm with his free hand, and the two warriors wrestled with each other, the tops of their heads touching and their faces centimeters apart. Their expressions were mirror images of each other, both betraying the inner pain and conflict that was ravaging their souls, but both displaying the unquenchable resolve that let the other know he would do whatever was necessary to emerge from the battle victorious.

As the two titans struggled, the mountain released its largest tremor yet. The entire facility shook, and a column of molten lava a hundred meters high shot up from the geyser, crashing down right where Anakin and Vader were fighting.

The two combatants leapt to safety, reaching the other side of the pipe to find themselves on one of the branching arms of the Main Collection Plant. The wave of lava crashed down on the pipe, tearing it away immediately. That was not the most pressing concern, however, because as the lava descended back into the abyss, it also landed on the immense support column that held the entire structure above the fiery river. With an ominous hissing sound, the boiling magma began to eat away at the metal at a terrifying rate.

Anakin and Vader were forced to run for cover as shockball-sized chunks of burning metal and rock fell down from the sky. The smoke and ash floating in the air rose to a suffocating level, and Vader shielded his nose and mouth to avoid inhaling such poison. He could not see Anakin, but he knew that he was there, his back pinned against the other side of the column, just as powerless as Vader against nature's fury.

The second the rumbling had stilled, Vader vaulted out of his hiding place and looked around for Anakin. The young Jedi was ready, weapon extended and eyes filled with fire.

Vader let the Dark Side flow through him, becoming a conduit for its power. Anakin, despite being the Chosen One, was pushed to his limit. The ominous dark shadows that Vader had cloaked himself in so long ago began to gather about him unconsciously as he drew upon Sith techniques that he had never even believed he had known. He saw Anakin's eyes widen in surprise, and possibly something else: recognition? Fear?

The Sith Lord had no time to ponder the matter, however, because at that precise moment the structure shook again. A quick glance over the edge of the platform revealed that the support beam holding the Collection Center was bending ominously and glowing a dangerous red. It couldn't last for much longer. Already the titanic structure was swaying in the howling wind like the last leaf on a tree. They had to get off this doomed facility, or they were both going to die.

Vader pushed Anakin's lightsaber out of his way, then leapt into the air and dealt the Chosen One a punishing kick to the face. Anakin crashed to the ground, hard. Instead of striking at him again, Vader vaulted over the furious Jedi and began to make his way back towards the support column. Anakin spit out a mouthful of blood and followed him, murder in his eyes.

Vader reached the bridge and assessed the situation. A ten meter stretch of metal was covered by lava, and from the agonizing sound it was making, it was very unstable. Jumping ten meters from unstable footing was no easy feat, even for a Sith. However, there didn't appear to be a better option. He tensed his legs, preparing to spring.

An angry roar echoed behind him, breaking his concentration. Vader looked over his shoulder to see Anakin rushing him, clearly intending to prevent the Sith from escaping. A snarl of fury crossed Vader's face as he turned back to face the Jedi, lightsaber extended for battle …

And then the entire world gave way.

* * *

The engineers who had designed the Main Collection Plant were some of the brightest in the galaxy. It was testament to their determination and the power of the latest technology that they had devised a way to suspend several thousand tons of equipment a hundred meters above a fast-flowing river of magma. But the engineers could not have planned that the main supporting beam would ever have to bear its load while immersed in a lava flow with a temperature of several thousand standard degrees. The natural forces of the hellish planet proved to be too much, and the entire plant bent to their will, breaking free of the main facility and plunging into the fire.

Anakin Skywalker's superior reaction time saved him. Had he not managed to grab onto the rough ridges of what had once been the main support beam, the force of impact would have thrown him from the structure to his death in the boiling lava. Instead, he found himself clinging perilously to the ledge as the entire complex was swept down the river by the current.

Several meters above him, Anakin could see Vader maintaining a similar hold. Forgetting momentarily how dangerous their situation was, he began to climb up towards his former master, pulling out his lightsaber as he did.

Vader, seeing that Anakin was climbing after him, ignited his lightsaber and slashed down at him. Anakin ducked and took one hand off the beam to avoid losing his fingers, but he did not let go. Seeking to reach a more defensible position, Vader began to rise towards the top of the beam, with Anakin in his wake.

The column began to dip ominously down towards the lava as the combatants neared the end. Ignoring the warning signs, Anakin and Vader continued to trade blows, their fighting every bit as intense as it had been on stable ground.

Vader stopped when he realized that he could go no further without reaching the part of the column that was still covered by lava. A savage eagerness rose unbidden to Anakin's heart as he saw that his foe was cornered. Ignoring the cries from his protesting muscles, he climbed still higher …only to have Vader elude him again.

The Sith Lord seized one of the cables that had connected the main beam to those adjacent to it and pushed off from the structure. Anakin hissed in frustration. He was tired of this game. Grabbing another cable, he leapt from the column on a path that would take him on a collision course with Vader.

Vader saw him coming and raised his lightsaber to strike. Anakin did the same. The two managed to trade one blow before their momentum carried them past one another. Vader was brought back to the column, where he leapt off the cable, leaving Anakin to swing alone.

A dull roar drew Anakin's attention. He turned to look, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The river on which they were floating simply ended less than a hundred meters away, disappearing over a towering precipice. Huge amounts of the molten rock cascaded over the lava falls into an abyss, and the relentless current was sweeping them straight towards it.

Vader noticed it as well. The Sith Lord turned to look at Anakin, his distant expression carrying something Anakin thought might be fear. He hesitated for a moment, just looking at Anakin, then he turned and launched himself from the doomed structure, the Force carrying him almost forty meters until he managed to land on a small service platform floating in the middle of the lava river. As soon as he was safe, he turned back to see the fate of his opponent.

Using the Force and his own desperation, Anakin guided himself back to the column. The lava fall was very close now, and what was left of the collection plant was tilting inevitably towards it. Anakin took a fraction of a second to gather his breath, and then he began to run.

The enormous metal complex reached the falls and began to descend. Anakin ran faster than he had ever ran in his life, using the Force to aid him. For a moment he thought he would not make it, but then he reached the end. Summoning all his energy, Anakin jumped.

The Chosen One somersaulted through the air, dimly aware of the structure he had stood on seconds before disappearing over the lava fall. He also noticed that while Vader's platform was too far away, there were several worker droids hovering around harvesting the lava. He directed himself towards the nearest of these, and managed to land upright with both feet on its smooth, flat head.

The droid dropped its load and whistled in protest, but Anakin ignored it and used the Force to direct his mount towards the service platform where Vader stood waiting.

They raced back the way they had come, several meters apart. Anakin was close enough to see Vader's familiar, scarred face, but he could not read the Dark Lord's expression. Vader seemed to be conflicted, torn between anger, sadness, and regret.

The Chosen One locked eyes with his former master. "It'll take more than that to kill me, Vader."

A bitter smile rose to Vader's lips. "It's over, Anakin. Give yourself up. You're strong, but you cannot stand against the power of the Sith."

"I've heard that before, Vader," Anakin said, his voice suddenly constricted by an upwelling of inner pain. "But I never thought that I'd hear it from you."

"Times change, Anakin," Vader called. "People change. Their circumstances change. The only thing that never changes is the need for a true servant of peace and justice to do what is necessary. I never taught you that lesson. In that, I have failed you."

"You never failed me," Anakin snarled. "I don't know who you are. The man who trained me would never have tried to kill Padmé."

Vader shook his head. "Anakin, you came closer to killing your wife than I ever did."

"THAT'S A LIE!" Anakin screamed, his heart bursting. "I WOULD NEVER HURT HER!"

"Will you never learn?" Vader roared at him. "True lessons can only be learned through pain! Stop running from it!"

"Damn you," Anakin hissed. Every single word Vader spoke was tearing into his soul like a burning blade. "Damn you, damn the Jedi, damn the Sith! None of you can understand!"

Vader's eyes flashed with a strange light. "Curse me as much as you like, Anakin. You know the truth, and you will embrace it sooner or later. It is the will of the Force."

"NO!"

Anakin's soul could take no more. He sprang from his droid, landing hard on Vader's platform. It did not matter if Vader was not the real enemy, it did not matter if everything he said was true. He needed to strike at the darkness that had consumed him, and that darkness had manifested itself in the form of his former master.

There was the briefest flash of sadness in Vader's eyes before it was consumed by the flames of battle. He moved forward to meet Anakin, his blue blade moving at a speed few Jedi or Sith had ever attained. Anakin matched his fury, and the power that flashed between them outstripped that of the turbulent volcano which was spewing sulfur and flame into the black sky.

Anakin struck, and though Vader dodged, the lightsaber burned through his cortosis weave armor and left a long scar on his arm. In retaliation, Vader shoved Anakin with the Force, sending the Chosen One flying off the platform and onto a steep, ash covered bank on the slopes of the volcano. Anakin sprang to his feet and looked down at the Sith Lord, who was still standing on the platform hovering on the lava river.

"Come on," Anakin growled, his lungs burning from the fiery ash. "Come on and finish it."

Vader made no move to ascend the slope. Instead, he laughed.

"Anakin, have the Jedi corrupted your common sense that much? Do you _really_ believe that I would be foolish enough to attack you while you have the advantage of the high ground?"

Anakin paused. How could he have forgotten? That was one of Obi-Wan's oldest lessons. Vader may have turned his back on the man he had once been, but he clearly had retained the knowledge he found useful.

Vader laughed again, then guided his platform around a bend in the lava river and out of sight.

Anakin stood still for a moment, the slightly mocking ring of Vader's laughter echoing in his ears. Then his anger flooded him once more. Turning, he sprinted up the bank and made for the slopes of the volcano. As he reached the top of the ridge, he could see Vader disembarking from the platform on a flat stretch of ground with a steep, roughly-hewn path leading up through a jagged outcropping of rocks.

Vader looked over and saw Anakin charging towards him like a krayt dragon. Recognizing the futility of making a stand when Anakin had built up such momentum, he turned and moved swiftly up the path. Anakin followed him.

The path led to a high circular plateau bounded on three sides by sharp, inwardly pointing rocks – obviously assembled by the planet's native species as some kind of gladiatorial arena. The fourth side had a sharp drop-off, which led down to sinister-looking lake. The lake itself barely visible because the air was thick with poisonous gases spewed forth by a vast geyser, which erupted periodically, shaking the ground and unleashing a fresh wave of searing fumes and magma. Another path, even more narrow and treacherous, led up to the mouth of the volcano itself, which was shaking so violently it was certain to blow very soon.

Anakin reached the top of the path and spotted Vader. The Sith Lord had hesitated in the center of the arena, debating for a fraction of a second whether to make his stand or continue up the path. Anakin chose for him.

The Jedi vaulted into the arena and slammed into Vader, sending the Darksider sprawling. Vader recovered quickly, clambering to his feet and slashing at Anakin. The Jedi grimaced in pain as he received a deep burn on the side of his torso. His world turned red.

Vader moved in to end the fight before Anakin could recover, but he was too late. The Jedi forced away the strike aimed at his neck, then charged forward, unleashing a chain of attacks that Vader could not answer, culminated with a malicious slash that should have sent the Sith's lightsaber flying. It didn't. Instead Anakin's blade broke through Vader's guard and ripped across his chest.

Had it not been for his cortosis weave armor, Vader would have been killed instantly. As it was the diffracting material turned aside the worse of Anakin's attack, but the strike had been so forceful that the blade got through and opened a long wound across Vader's body, from oblique to shoulder. The Sith Lord stumbled, falling to one knee at Anakin's feet.

A terrible fog seemed to lift from Anakin, allowing him to see clearly for the first time since the duel had begun. He was suddenly aware of how much pain he was in, how close he had come to death. But more than anything, he was aware of his former master, the friend he would have given his life for, kneeling and bloodied at his feet.

"Obi-Wan …" he whispered.

The Dark Lord turned his head up to look at Anakin, and reality suddenly returned. Through the intense pain that was showing on his face, Vader's eyes burned … yellow.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin gasped, struggling to pull air into his lungs. "It's over. Surrender … before I have to hurt you further."

Vader did not answer. A crazed, almost fanatical smile appeared on his face. He seemed to be possessed. He began to raise his lightsaber.

Anakin took a small step back. "Don't try it, Obi-Wan," he warned. "Don't even think …"

Vader pushed himself to his feet with astounding speed for one so injured. His yellow eyes seared with rage as they locked onto his former padawan. With a roar, he rushed Anakin.

The assault was unbelievably intense, and would have instantly slain a lesser Jedi. Anakin bore the seething waves of the Dark Lord's hatred, his own dark side unconsciously supplying the strength he needed. Despite sustaining yet another wound, he began to force Vader back.

Anakin could sense Vader weakening and unleashed a downward slash to knock his opponent's weapon away. Vader wasn't quick enough to block it. The attack severed his right arm.

Anakin retreated again, watching in shock as Vader collapsed near the edge of the precipice, clutching at the smoking stump where his arm had been. His lightsaber lay at his knees, forgotten. A painful knife twisted in Anakin's heart – he couldn't believe this was happening.

"Obi-Wan!" he called. "Enough! This has to stop!"

Vader picked up his lightsaber with his left hand – his only hand now. He looked up at Anakin again. The fanatical look had not faded; if, anything, it had been even more intense. Though he was shaking badly and clearly in terrible pain, he began to rise.

"Please, Obi-Wan," Anakin heard himself gasp, tears gathering in his eyes. "Stop."

Vader did not even seem to hear him. As the mountain unleashed its worse tremor yet and spouted fire into the sky, he charged at Anakin, bringing his blade down for a crushing strike.

Anakin caught the attack on his own blade, stopping it centimeters from his heart. He struggled to maintain the hold against Vader's power. The Sith Lord's eyes rolled backwards as the Dark Side rolled through him, directing his anger.

Once more, the dark power rose unbidden to Anakin, filling his limbs with tremendous strength. It would suffer to be contained no longer. Anakin shoved with everything he had, pushing Vader's blade away from him and knocking him backward. The Dark Lord of the Sith fell backwards and rolled over the edge of the fiery pit, out of sight.

"Obi-Wan!"

Anakin rushed to the precipice, his heart pounding in terror. It couldn't be. It hadn't happened. Obi-Wan couldn't be …

He looked over the edge into the abyss, and his heart jolted. Vader was there, clinging desperately with one hand to the nearly vertical slope. Several meters below him, Anakin could see the churning lava lake and the geyser, which seemed to be on the verge of erupting.

Anakin fell flat on his stomach and reached as far over the side as he could. "Obi-Wan, grab my hand!"

The Sith Lord looked up at him, his face a mask of pain. The yellow was fading from his eyes, returning them to their natural blue shade. He, like Anakin, seemed to have emerged from a fog, one that had separated his mind from reason.

"Anakin …" he gasped.

Anakin strained even further, threatening to pull his arm out of its socket. "Grab it, before you fall!"

Vader gritted his teeth and tried to pull himself up the slope. With only one hand, it was nearly impossible. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to rise, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, until he could grab Anakin's outstretched hand.

"Stay still! I'll pull you up!"

Vader coughed, blood mixing with ash. "Anakin, the mountain …"

Anakin ignored him trying to get a better grip on Vader's hand. They were both wearing gloves, and when covered in ash they had very little gripping power. "I've got you!"

The mountain was shaking constantly. Bits of rock were being thrown into the air, and the ashy slope was starting to slide. Anakin ignored all of this, desperation fueling him as he slowly pulled Vader up.

Vader forced a pair of agonizing words beyond his lips. "Anakin …go …"

"Just a little bit further …"

The mountain exploded.

Several thousand tons of rock, magma, ash and dust were thrown into the air as the dying volcano let loose its last breath. The ground shook as though a million-ton star cruiser had just crashed a short distance away. Geysers all around the mountain began to erupt as they released pressure in the form of heat and steam.

Anakin scrambled desperately to maintain his hold as Vader began to slip from his grasp. Vader's eyes flashed with a dangerous power. "Go, Anakin! Save your …"

Before he could finish, their hold broke. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who had become Darth Vader, fell down the slope and disappeared into the sulfurous mist.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Anakin scrambled to his knees, looking desperately for a way down, but before he could find one, the geyser beneath him erupted, shooting a torrent of fire and poisonous gas fifty meters into the sky.

Anakin's yell was cut off by the suffocating fumes that seized his lungs, forcing him into a fit of coughing. The fumes were so thick that he could not see, and he was so disoriented that the Force failed to warn him about the rock that was descending through the air towards him.

The rock struck his left side, and Anakin felt his arm break. The force of the collision knocked him backwards, down an adjacent slope towards the lava river. Slamming his mechanical fist down, he was able to stop himself on the banks. The heat from the river caused his clothes to ignite, but Anakin was able to slap the flames out before they could consume him completely.

As soon as he could stand, Anakin pulled himself to his feet and began to run. Back up the slope he went, retracing his fall from the high arena. The trip was hard; every bone, especially the shattered one in his left arm, was crying out in protest. But Anakin bore the pain. What happened to his body was nothing now.

He reached the arena and hurried back to the precipice over which Vader had disappeared. The fumes still had not cleared, and Anakin was forced to cover his nose and mouth in order to breathe. Looking down towards the fire below he could see nothing – nothing that would give him even the slightest clue as to whether or not Obi-Wan could have survived. His master was gone.

Anakin fell back, his legs unwilling to support his weight. His mind had frozen. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. One singular notion had lodged itself in his consciousness, burning out everything else.

_Obi-Wan's gone. He's dead …and I killed him._

Anakin forced himself to his knees and peered into the fog again. He should go down there and try to find Obi-Wan. He had to. He would never forgive himself if his master had survived and he left him here to die alone. But there was no way down that Anakin could see – at least no way that he could manage with his broken arm. If he tried to descend, he would fall into the lava and be burned alive. If he somehow survived, he would never make it back up. Padmé was waiting back at the landing pad, in critical condition. If he did not get her off this planet soon, she would die, and their unborn twins with her.

Maybe he should go down. He did not deserve his angel. He did not deserve his children. And they deserved more than what he had become, which was a murderer.

Anakin buried his face in his hands. Obi-Wan had been right. He had been the one who had nearly killed his angel, his beloved wife. The dark figure of his visions, the one who had menaced Padmé, the one who had borne the blue lightsaber, the one who had undermined everything he had done to save her … was no one other than Anakin himself.

Obi-Wan had known. Obi-Wan had tried to warn him. And now Obi-Wan was gone.

Anakin forced himself to his feet, accepting the pain that flooded his system. He might as well accept it, for he would never be rid of it now.

As he turned to go, something clinked against his boot. Anakin bent down and picked it up. Obi-Wan's lightsaber. It was the weapon that had used during his ascent to one of the greatest heroes the galaxy had ever known, and it was the weapon that he had used to carry out the brutal murders of the Jedi purge. This weapon was Obi-Wan's life, and his legacy … the only part which would live on now.

Anakin clipped the lightsaber to his belt, feeling a great weight descend upon him. He turned back one more time to stare at the fiery abyss which had claimed his brother. Then he shuddered and headed back towards the landing platform, every step, every breath, every heartbeat more painful than the last.

* * *

R2-D2 and C-3PO were waiting for him when he finally arrived back at Sabe's ship. Artoo whistled in happiness to see his friend alive, and Threepio sounded about as relieved as his tinny voice would allow.

"Master Ani! We have Miss Padmé on board. Please, please hurry. We should leave this dreadful place."

Anakin patted Threepio's shoulder and managed to nod reassuringly at Artoo. He made his way up the boarding ramp, the droids in his wake.

Padmé lay on a bed in the main compartment, much as she had on his own vessel when they had landed on Mustafar. She was alive, that much he could tell, but unconscious. Sabé stood over her, gently tending to her few visible injuries. When she heard Anakin approaching, she looked up.

"Anakin!" she exclaimed. "Thank the Force! We were so worried about you! Are you all right?"

Anakin shifted slightly, trying to conceal his broken arm. "I'll live. How's Padmé?"

"She's stable, but I'm scared. I think we might be …" Sabé stopped, her eyes scanning the doorway behind Anakin. "Anakin, where's Obi-Wan?"

A lump formed in Anakin's throat, preventing him from answering. He turned away and swallowed as he fought back tears, but stayed silent.

Sabé took a step towards him, her brown eyes welling with apprehension. "Anakin, where's Obi-Wan?" she repeated urgently.

Anakin closed his eyes, willing them to stay dry. He allowed himself to speak.

"I … I had to leave him behind."

"What do you mean?" Sabé asked, sounding more nervous by the second. "Why …"

He heard her gasp and take a step backward. "Oh no, Anakin," she whispered. "You didn't. Please tell me you didn't."

Anakin forced himself to turn and look at her. "I'm sorry, Sabé. I couldn't save him."

Sabé's hands rose to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror. "I don't believe it," she forced out. "You would never … Anakin, how _could_ you!?"

Anakin took a step forward, extending his right hand. "Sabé …"

Sabé backed away, shaking her head. "I hate you, Anakin," she whispered. "I _hate_ you. Get away from me. I don't want to see you again."

She turned and fled through the opposite door. As it closed behind her, he heard her sob.

Anakin let his arm fall. Slowly, he turned back to his wife, lying peacefully on the cot. His metal hand reached out to caress her face. Padmé stirred slightly at her husband's touch, but she did not wake.

After checking once more to make sure that she was comfortable, Anakin left Padmé and made his way to the cockpit. When he got there, he sealed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the galaxy. Numbly, half-unconsciously, he began to prep the ship for takeoff. He would leave the ship he had arrived in on Mustafar, and when the coast was clear he would ask someone to come back for it. He was never returning to this planet again.

The ship began to rise through the dense atmosphere under Anakin's skillful guidance. He didn't need two arms to fly, but he took no joy out of soaring through the air. No joy at all.

The ship cleared the outer reaches of the atmosphere. Anakin could see the Star Destroyer drawing closer to the planet, launching shuttles and fighters. They could probably see him, but Anakin didn't care. By the time they reached pursuit speed he would be long gone, and they appeared to be more concerned with something on the surface. Anakin didn't have to guess to know what that was.

The pain welled up inside of him again, this time reaching a level that he would not be able to contain. Blindly, Anakin guided the ship through the last few kilometers until he could clear the gravity well, and then entered a set of coordinates that would carry him anywhere – anywhere but here.

And then, as the hyperdrive kicked in and the star stretched into lines, Anakin screamed.

The sound rent the air of the pilot's compartment and reverberated in his ears. It pierced his ribcage to echo in his heart. The cry carried his rage at the galaxy for tearing away those that he loved, his anguish for failing to see the true identity of the dark demon that had threatened his wife, and above all, his agonizing despair at what he had done, what he had become.

His scream vanished with him into nothingness.


	46. Birth and Rebirth

Welcome back! Thank you for all of your incredibly positive reviews. This is why it's so much fun to write: the opportunity to get intelligent feedback.

As you might have noticed, I have made a small change by adding names to the chapters. This is to help me keep track of them, and hopefully make things more interesting. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

I should also note that we are drawing very close to where _Revenge of the Sith_ leaves off. I'm pleased to say that **The Shadow of Vader** will _not_ end there, but there will be an interlude of sorts, covering a period of several years for the galaxy. I'll explain more once I post Chapter 47.

For now, I present to you Chapter 46!

* * *

**Chapter 46**

Agony.

Pure, unrestrained agony.

Darth Vader had opened his mouth to scream, but the dense fumes that had boiled out of the geyser immediately pervaded his body, searing his larynx and burning his lungs from the inside out. The Force fled from him as he tried to draw upon it to keep the life-giving pathways clear of the poison. He closed his eyes, shielding them from the fumes, but he could not protect the rest of his body. The boiling gas scorched every exposed surface, blistering his skin. Somehow, enough oxygen got into his system to keep him from suffocating, but the relief would quickly prove a curse.

Less than two meters away, the massive geyser erupted, spewing a torrent of fire and burning debris into the sky. The temperature instantly shot up hundreds of degrees, enough to ignite Vader's clothes and armor. The Sith Lord's scream was ruthlessly cut off as the fire quickly spread, quickly covering his entire body. More noxious fumes were released as the cortosis filaments in the armor melted, unable to with stand such extreme conditions. Vader convulsed on the ground, completely powerless as his skin burned, blackened, and split. Old scars reopened, allowing the searing heat to invade his body and ravage his internal organs. Completely consumed by the fire, Vader's eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed into himself. He had endured unbelievable pain before, but this … this was too much. He wanted it to end. He wanted to black out now, to die, and to surrender his soul to the Force. Having suffered so greatly, all chains connecting him to the galaxy of the living had broken and he could feel himself drifting away.

Yet as suddenly as it had begun, his torment ended.

Vader opened his eyes just in time to see the geyser release its last breath, and then grow silent. He was lying a short distance from its edge, sprawled flat on the slowly cooling obsidian beneath him. The fumes were far too thick for him to see anything beyond, but that didn't matter. The trial had ended. He was alive.

Vader's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His scorched lungs screamed with protest at every inhalation, barely managing to suck enough oxygen from the poisonous air to keep him alive. He had no strength left in his body left in his body to try and move, at least for the moment. There was nothing he could do but draw in another breath and try to form a coherent thought through his pain.

The flames had subsided, but his pain had not. As it had been on the floor of Grievous's cell, he could acutely feel every cubic centimeter of his body crying out in agony. He couldn't even begin to imagine how badly he was hurt. Unable to turn his head, the only part of his body he could see was his left arm, and that alone was enough to nearly cause him to black out. The arm was almost unrecognizable as belonging to a human. Every centimeter of exposed skin was blackened by fire and scarred, with open wounds marked by a line of scorched blood. Some areas had been burned so badly he could see a trace of bone beneath the scar tissue. Bile rose to Vader's mouth, and it took a tremendous effort to force it down again.

Eventually, after a prolonged stretch of time, he could feel the slightest amount of strength returning to his body, and the faintest whisper of the Force. He knew that he had to move. If he didn't try, that strength would slip away like dust in a stellar wind, leaving him helpless once more.

Vader tried to push himself up, but a powerful wave of agony from his lower body caused him to collapse and black out briefly. When he came to, he forced himself to turn his head and look back to see what had caused the surge. What he saw nearly caused him to black out again.

Both of his legs were broken. No, _shattered_ might be a more appropriate term. They must have gotten caught beneath him during his fall from the slope. Vader had seen gruesome injuries in the field before, and he knew that those legs would never support his weight again. With the steel-braced will he had forged over his entire life as a general, a Jedi, and a Sith Lord, he stopped himself from collapsing in despair.

His eyes blazed with a furious resolve borne of pure rage at his condition. He was the master of pain; he would not allow it to break him. Stretching out his arm, Vader grasped a crack in the stone and pulled himself forward. The agony was blinding, but Vader let it flow through him as he began to pull himself, centimeter by centimeter, back towards the slope.

* * *

Mirthrada Nuruodo frowned and glanced at the sensor display again. "Something's wrong, Admiral."

Thrawn, perfectly in command of the situation as always, turned to face his brother and smiled slightly. "What makes you say that?"

Nuruodo tapped the screen with a gloved finger. "Lord Vader's ship has still not reappeared on our sensors. Surely it has not taken him this long to destroy the Separatists. He must have run into trouble of some kind."

Thrawn walked over to the sensor display and consulted it, his expression thoughtful. "Lord Vader possesses both a strong military instinct and remarkably artistic intuition. I would not assume that he has run afoul of some misfortune when we have no definite evidence that either one has failed him. A perfectly executed plan requires patience." Thrawn's smile disappeared as the next set of reading came up on the screen. "Nevertheless, dispatch a team down to the surface. Sometimes preemptive caution is a prudent course."

Nuruodo nodded and began to move towards the elevator shaft. Before he had gone ten paces, however, the sensor officer on deck shot up in his seat. "Vice Admiral, a shuttle has entered the system. Its signature is that of the Emperor himself!"

Thrawn turned to face the bridge. "Have they hailed us?"

The communications officer raised his hand, listening to something through his earpiece. He appeared several shades paler than Nuruodo remembered. "Yes, sir. The Emperor is on the line. He wants to speak to you."

Thrawn took the officer's earpiece and held it up to his ear. He listened intently for a few moments, then suddenly his red eyes flashed and locked onto Nuruodo, who way standing rigidly near the turbolift.

"Get that team down to the surface. Now!"

Nuruodo did not need to be told twice. He sprang into the elevator and pulled out his comlink, issuing orders to his troops as he began to descend to the main hanger bay.

* * *

The shuttle that had brought Emperor Palpatine from Coruscant made straight for Mustafar's surface, issuing only the briefest statement to the Star Destroyer orbiting the planet. The pilot brought the craft down through the atmosphere as fast as he could without risking engine failure. Throughout the entire journey, Palpatine himself remained silent, meditating with his eyes closed as he tried to home in on the flickering presence in the Force that was his apprentice.

Palpatine had not formed a true Force bond with Vader - such a bound required strong trust and he trusted no one completely but himself. However, he could still get a sense his apprentice's whereabouts, what he was doing, and occasionally, his feelings. Right now, one sensation had overloaded that connection: a ghostly echo of intense agony. The Emperor had nearly withdrawn after he had felt the surge; he did not care to expose himself to any more pain than was necessary. Nevertheless, he had held on, knowing that this was the only way to find his apprentice before Vader succumbed to whatever injuries he had sustained at the hands of Anakin Skywalker.

For it had been Skywalker, without question. No one else would have stood a chance against Vader, and no one else would have dared to try. The Emperor stretched out his perceptions, trying to see if he could locate Anakin, but the Force told him that the young Jedi had left the system – minutes before he had arrived.

This was a serious disappointment; Palpatine knew that to defeat Vader, Anakin must have immersed himself in the Dark Side, and he would be more susceptible to its influence than ever before. But the opportunity was lost for the moment, so Palpatine returned his attentions to the matter at hand: rescuing Vader before the Force robbed him of his most valuable servant.

Under his guidance, the shuttle landed on a relatively smooth stretch of rock, a short distance away from where he sensed that Vader was. Another shuttle, one dispatched from the _Vengeance_, settled in adjacent to the Emperor's craft. Mirthrada Nuruodo disembarked from this shuttle, accompanied by a squad of special force clones. The Emperor barely acknowledged them, setting off at a rapid pace towards the raised circular plateau on the slopes of the volcano. Nuruodo and his troops fell into step behind him.

They climbed up the narrow path leading to the plateau and stepped into the arena. Palpatine made straight for the precipice, following the faint pulse in the Force. He reached the edge and looked down. For a moment he could see nothing through the swirling fumes, but then they cleared and he looked down into the pit. Fifteen meters down, he could see Vader, though were it not for the unmistakable Force signature, he would not have recognized him.

His apprentice was burned terribly all over his body. One of his arms was missing and his legs, twisted and mangled, sprawled uselessly behind him. Painful-looking scars covered what skin was visible. Yet somehow, Vader was still struggling, pulling himself up the slope at an agonizing rate. He looked up, and the Emperor started to see that Vader's face was still recognizable, and the eyes glowed orange with an inner resolve to endure.

"There he is," Palpatine pointed out Vader to Nuruodo and the troops, who had assembled at the edge of the pit. His voice escaped in an awed hiss. "He's still alive."

Vader, his strength seeming to desert him, shuddered and rolled over onto his back. Palpatine rounded on Nuruodo and the clones. "You two go down and stabilize him," he ordered. "The rest of you, get a medical capsule immediately."

Nuruodo, accompanied by a clone field medic, headed for the safest-looking part of the slope and descended into the pit. The rest of the clones raced back for the shuttle. Palpatine was left standing alone in the arena. He closed his eyes and turned his head skyward, letting the sheer power of the planet flow through him. Then he curled his gnarled hands into fists.

The Force would not cheat him of his servant. Not this time.

* * *

Padmé Amidala lay on a pristine white medical table, hidden deep within a secure ward on the asteroid sanctuary of Polis Massa. Her beautiful face was peaceful and untroubled. Set off from the rest of the galaxy by a thick transparisteel wall, she looked completely safe, an ideal state which those who loved her had long sought. But Anakin knew better. Beneath that layer of outward security, his wife was fighting a pitched battle, not only for her own life but for the two perfect, innocent beings she carried within her womb. No one knew exactly what was wrong with her, not even Anakin, but his mind told him what his heart did not want to accept: it was all his fault.

A medical droid emerged from the room and hovered over to the other occupants of the corridor: Yoda and Bail Organa. Anakin, his right arm resting on the transparisteel pane that separated him from his wife, made no move to join them, though he watched the others out of the corner of his eye. Yoda appeared haggard and weary; he and the surviving Wookiees had returned from their ill-fated mission to destroy the Emperor only a few hours earlier. Everyone had noticed the absence of Mace Windu, but Yoda had not elected to inform them exactly what had happened, saying that he himself still needed time to understand the implications of his friend's sacrifice.

Bail too looked tired. There never seemed to be a moment when the man was not throwing every last ounce of his energy into some plan or another that would improve life for someone else. It was a noble pursuit, but it was clearly taking its toll.

Sabé was not present. Anakin had not seen her since they had arrived on Polis Massa, though given the content of their last exchange on Mustafar that was probably for the best.

"Well?" Bail asked the medical droid. "How is she?"

The droid hovered in front of them, looking and sounding inherently apologetic. "Medically, she is completely healthy. For reasons that we cannot explain, we are losing her."

"She's dying?" Bail gasped.

Anakin closed his eyes in despair. It was a confirmation of what he already knew.

"We don't know why," the droid continued, "but some great despair has stricken her mind. She has lost the will to live. We must operate quickly if we are to save the babies."

"Babies?" Bail exclaimed. His eyes flashed to Anakin, who made no move.

"She's carrying twins," the droid explained.

Bail rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Very well. Proceed."

The droid bobbed its head in acknowledgement. "Yes sir."

Anakin suddenly found his voice. "Wait."

Everyone turned to look at him. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I want a moment alone with her."

The droid whistled anxiously. "Sir, she needs a sterile environment. I cannot allow it."

Anakin felt a momentary spark of rage that this little droid was trying to keep him from his wife. It disappeared quickly to be replaced with shame. Hadn't he proven that he couldn't be trusted with her safety?

He bowed his head and tried to keep his voice steady. "Please … I just want to talk to her. Even if she can't hear me. I need to tell her I'm sorry."

The droid looked over to Bail and Yoda, apparently seeking their consent. Bail looked hesitant, but Yoda sighed heavily, another weight of years descending upon him. "Quick, make it."

Anakin nodded in acknowledgement, unlocked the door and stepped inside. The droid followed him, sealing the door.

Anakin approached Padmé's bed, proceeding slowly as though not to startle her. As always when he looked at his wife, he was completely floored by her beauty. Padmé's face was so calm, so trusting. It was inherent in her nature to trust others, but though he loved that aspect of her intensely, it did not always serve her well. She had trusted him completely …and look what had befallen her.

Anakin reached out with his metal right hand, running it gently down his angel's smooth cheek. He would have liked to touch her with his real hand, feel her soft skin, but his entire left arm was in a sling to stabilize his broken bones. Padmé did not respond to his touch.

Anakin had known what he had wanted to say, but now, with Padmé in front of him, he found himself incapable of speech. How could he possibly express everything he was feeling to her in such a short time? A thousand different emotions were warring within him, and none were emerging victorious. Instead, he simply stared down at his wife, his heart bursting to confess everything to her, but his mind unwilling to comply.

The droid beeped to get Anakin's attention. "Sir, it is time to induce labor. You must leave now."

Anakin slowly, reluctantly, turned away from Padmé's bedside. He felt as though he had failed her again. For a moment, he stood stock still, then he followed the droid out of the room, unwilling to look back.

* * *

Mirthrada Nuruodo stood silently in the surgical observation chamber, watching as the medical droids worked on the still body of Darth Vader. Beside him, Emperor Palpatine stood equally still, his arms folded into the sleeves of his cloak. Neither had spoken a word since the procedure had begun, over two hours ago. Instead they had watched the droids perform several radical procedures, many of which were invasive enough to kill an ordinary human. But as he had proven so many times, Lord Vader was far from ordinary.

The droids had just completed the first and most crucial step of the surgery: stabilizing Vader's damaged lungs. The fire and the deadly gases on Mustafar had left them unable to function on their own. The droids – and the Emperor as well – had been in favor of removing the lungs entirely, replacing them with a mechanical respirator implanted in his chest. Nuruodo had fervently fought against the proposed substitution, explaining that if Vader were ever to have any hope of recovering, he would need human lungs. In the end, he had managed to convince them, and now the droids were resealing the Dark Lord's chest, signaling that the operation had been completed. They had incased Vader's lungs in a titanium shell which performed and regulated many of the respiratory functions, but left the lungs themselves intact. Nuruodo was hopeful that in a few years, they would be sturdy enough to begin a rehabilitation program that would leave them close to fully functional again. The Emperor, surprisingly, did not seem concerned with the prospect of rehabilitation, claiming that as long as Vader could function now, he would be content.

Now the droids had cleaned the most serious burns and were starting the process of fitting Vader with new mechanical limbs. Nuruodo watched anxiously. He had wanted to be able to oversee the surgery from the Dark Lord's bedside, but Vader was too vulnerable to infection at the moment to allow anyone but the droids to work on him. So Nuruodo was left to watch for the observation chamber several meters above, internally raging against his utter lack of control.

Vader's legs, damaged beyond all hope of repair, had already been amputated below the knee. Several droids were affixing mechanical replacements now – replacements which Nuruodo noted would make the Dark Lord quite a bit taller, if he survived to stand up again. Another droid was working to attach Vader's new mechanical right arm, performing the complex process of attuning the surviving nerve ending to their technological counterparts. It seemed to be going smoothly until an unexpected complication arose: Vader began to stir.

Nuruodo started. The Dark Lord had been held unconscious for the first part of the surgery, for obvious reasons. The dosage he had been given was supposed to keep him under for the entire process. If he were to awake now, he would find himself in excruciating agony.

Nuruodo activated the intercom. "E-10A, sedate the patient."

The Emperor seized his arm and flung him away from the speaker. "No. Leave him conscious."

Nuruodo looked at his master with as much disbelief as he dared to show. "My Lord, neurological work of this level is extremely invasive. Your apprentice will experience considerable pain."

"I know," Palpatine turned his gaze back to the surgical chamber. "That's why I want him awake."

Nuruodo was about as shocked as his military training and his Chiss heritage would allow. "May I ask why, My Lord?"

The Emperor did not look at him. "Lord Vader draws strength from his pain. Reliving such agony will harden him, and cement him even further in the Dark Side."

Nuruodo found this explanation inadequate. "My Lord, I have to …"

Palpatine rounded on him, pure fury contorting his face. "Are you questioning me, Commander?"

The look in Nuruodo's eyes made it perfectly clear that he _was_. However, if he voiced such a sentiment to Sidious, the Emperor would ensure that he did not live to receive his next mission. So he swallowed his anger and bowed. "No, My Lord."

Palpatine smiled coldly and returned his attention to the surgery. "Proceed."

Nuruodo moved back to the intercom. "Continue with the operation. No sedative."

The droid working on Vader's arm began to fuse the Dark Lord's radial nerve to the corresponding wire in the metal arm. Vader screamed in agony and flung his arm at the droid, nearly disabling it. He continued to writhe as the other droids worked to secure him, binding him even tighter to the table. Nuruodo watched in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at the Emperor. Palpatine was staring fixedly at his apprentice, and there was nothing but coldness in his eyes.

* * *

The nursing droid overseeing the birth cooed softly, trying to calm her patient. Padmé appeared to relax for a second, but then another contraction hit and she cried out. Behind the observation glass, Anakin's heart rate jumped another ten beats per minute. Being in the observation room allowed him to see Padmé and hear her, but nothing could make up for not being by her side, being able to hold her hand and whisper soothing reassurances in her ear. His right hand flexed in frustration, and he had to draw upon the Force to calm himself. He tried to reach out to Padmé with the Force as well, but his wife was so confused, so frightened that he didn't think that she felt it.

Another contraction came, the hardest one yet. Listening to Padmé's cries was torture to Anakin, and for a moment he had to look away. When he turned back, the monitor attached to Padmé was beeping frantically. Through the Force, Anakin could feel his children, the twins. They were frightened, their once-secure universe collapsing around them.

Then suddenly, a blinding sense of light and warmth assailed Anakin's perceptions as a new life came into full contact with the Force. The nursing droid reached down and lifted up a small, newborn child – a boy.

Padmé opened her eyes as the nursing droid presented the child to her. A beautiful smile appeared on her face, making her appear radiant through all the sweat and tears.

"Luke," she whispered. "Oh, Luke."

_Luke. It's perfect._ Padmé and Anakin had never definitively decided on names for their children, but Anakin knew in a heartbeat that his angel could never have chosen a more perfect name. Luke, the bringer of light.

Padmé's hand caressed her son's face, but suddenly seized was seized by another contraction. Anakin's anxiety instantly returned as Padmé cried out again, louder than before.

Then the light came again, capturing Anakin completely. The nursing droid reached down and raised the second child – a girl. It presented her to Padmé, while a second droid gently took Luke and placed him in a nearby crib.

Padmé stroked her daughter's cheek, her eyes shining. "Leia," she whispered.

Leia, angel of the stars. Anakin felt tears gathering in his eyes. He was the father of two beautiful children. Despite everything that he had done, despite all the danger he had placed them in, Luke and Leia had survived. The relief he felt could not be conveyed in words.

He wanted to hold them, to look into their faces and let love wash over him. He wanted to kiss his wife and let her know that everything had turned out all right. But as badly as he wanted to, he couldn't do that right now. Padmé was still weak, and if the medical droids were to be believed, she shouldn't have visitors right now.

The nursing droid took Leia away and laid her in the crib next to her brother. Deprived of her children, Padmé seemed to deflate and fell back on the bed, her breathing weak and shallow. Her eyes slid closed, and she appeared to drift off.

Bail and Yoda looked just as relieved as Anakin felt that things had gone smoothly. The senator moved towards Anakin and clasped his shoulder. "Congratulations, Anakin," he said.

Anakin, completely spent, indicated his thanks with a nod.

A sudden alarm drew their attention. With a jolt, Anakin realized that Padmé's vitals were spiking. The medical droids warbled urgently, trying to revive her. She did not respond, and her pulse jumped still higher.

Fear seized Anakin's heart with its icy grasp. No, this couldn't be happening … not now. He tore free of Bail and raced for the door leading into Padmé's room.

"Anakin, stop!" Bail yelled after him. "It won't help her!"

Anakin ignored him. He wrenched open the door and rushed to his wife's side.

"Padmé!" he exclaimed. "Padmé, I'm here!"

The lead medical droid hovered towards him, waving its arms agitatedly. "Sir, please step away from the patient! We cannot risk …"

Anakin used the Force to send the droid spinning to the far corner of the room. He seized Padmé's left hand, holding it tight in both of his own. "Padmé, please, don't do this," he pleaded. "Stay with me!"

"Her heart rate is peaking," one of the droids said. "We need to stabilize her."

Anakin gripped Padmé's hand even tighter, unwilling to let go. There had to be something that he could do, some way to save her before she slipped away from him forever.

_Use the power_, a dark voice whispered to him.

Anakin hesitated. He had successfully used the power once, but that had been before Palpatine had revealed himself for what he was. He didn't know if he could trust himself to use it now, not after the terrible consequences that his actions had wrought when he had used the Dark Side.

But Padmé was dying now. If he lost her, it wouldn't matter if he had resisted the Dark Side. Without his angel, he would inevitably descend until he was unrecognizable, and the galaxy knew him only as a monster.

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate …_

Anakin closed his eyes and allowed his anger to seize him, transporting him to the darkest moments of his life. Watto beating him as a slave on Tattooine, Qui-Gon's funeral, his mother dying in his arms and his subsequent slaughter of the Tuskens, the loss of his arm …

As he relived each moment, Anakin's anger grew to an exponential level. He could feel the midi-chlorians in Padmé's cells stirring, responding to the suffocating power that bid them to wake. The spikes in Padmé's vitals began to decrease noticeably. Anakin's eyes flashed yellow beneath his closed lids, and allowed his rage to build even higher.

The memories continued to come: cutting down Dooku on board the _Invisible Hand_, the confrontation in the Chancellor's office, his revenge on Asajj Ventress …and then the landing pad on Mustafar. He could see himself clutching Padmé's limp body, his face furious and his lightsaber leveled at the man he believed to be responsible for all the pain that had befallen his angel: Darth Vader. With a jolt, he realized that he was watching this scene through his former master's eyes, and that his own face had begun to disappear into a black mask of shadows. As Padmé was torn from his arms, the dark figure rose and laughed mockingly, lightsaber springing to life in his hand.

Then the memory shifted again …but this time the memory was not his own. Anakin saw himself, torn, bitter, and full of rage, walking through a torrent of fire. His skin darkened and burned as he was slowly consumed, but he continued to advance, his eyes shining red with an intensity that far outstripped the flames. An epiphany struck Anakin: this was Padmé's memory. She had had a premonition, a premonition of what he would become in order to save her. He realized in an instant that this was why she was slipping away: she believed that she had lost him to the dark rage that smoldered within his heart. Padmé, unable to bear the notion that her husband was becoming a monster, had given up. The strongest willed woman he had ever known was allowing herself to die.

Despair flooded Anakin, dousing his anger. He could not use the power – not on Padmé. Yes, he had discovered the motivation he needed to master it, but the cost it demanded was too high. He could save Padmé's physical being, but what would that mean if he could not rescue her heart and soul? Her spirit was what he loved most about her, even more than her astonishing physical beauty. If her spirit, her passion, her loving nature were all consumed by the dark figure that bore his face, then the power to save her from death would bring her back only as an empty shell. Such an existence would be worse than her death.

But at the same time, he just could not let her go.

"She's crashing!" one of the droids warned. "Get the defibrillator!"

Anakin took Padmé's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her soft skin. Tears began to gather in his eyes as he reached out to her through the Force, not with anger this time, but with his deepest love for everything that she was. He leaned in closer as the droids prepared to shock Padmé back to life.

"Please come back, Padmé," he whispered. "I love you."

* * *

After eight excruciating hours, the procedure was nearing its end. Darth Vader lay on the operating table, his eyes closed. The Dark Lord had just undergone some of the most radical treatments that had ever been enacted in the galaxy, and he had made it through. He had survived.

Vader's entire body was now encased in powerful life-support suit. The suit would keep his wounded body functioning, controlling his breathing, his heart rate, and his internal temperature. It would also augment his nervous system and supplement his endurance by maintaining muscle function long after a normal human would have tired. The armor of the suit itself was made of durasteel combined with blast-dampening material, rendering Vader practically invulnerable to conventional attacks. It was a marvel of modern engineering, no doubt, but the aspect of it which pleased Emperor Palpatine the most was its intimidating appearance. Just looking at such an imposing presence was enough to make the hearts of all but the bravest freeze over with fear. While the suit would restrict Vader's movement as well as his Force abilities, Palpatine felt that the tradeoff would still leave Vader as one of the most powerful acolytes ever to possess the title of Dark Lord of the Sith.

And now, the time had come to complete the transformation. Palpatine watched eagerly as the crane slowly lowered Vader's mask down towards his scarred face. The mask was the final touch; once it was in place, Darth Vader would be ready to serve the Emperor once more.

The mask descended the remaining distance towards Vader's head. When it was half a meter away, Vader's eyes snapped open and the Emperor saw a flash of fear cross his features. Then the mask covered his face. The final piece of Vader's helmet was attached, locking itself into place with a definitive pneumatic hiss.

For a moment, there was silence. Then a deathly rattle filled the room as the reborn Dark Lord of the Sith sucked in his first breath. The air temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees, sending a pleasurable chill down Palpatine's spine. His vision was now a reality.

The Emperor turned to Nuruodo, whose face was as expressionless as a block of stone. "Come, Commander. Let us welcome back our old friend."

He swept towards the elevator leading down to the operating room, Nuruodo following silently in his wake.

* * *

His eyes slid open, revealing a world turned red. He could see little more than what was directly in front of him, and what he could see was tinted, well into the infrared spectrum. He could hear a hiss followed by an ominous rattle, noises that appeared to be in tune with his own breathing. No wait …that _was_ the sound of his breathing. What was going on? Why did he feel so …constrained?

He tried to move, but his arms were securely bolted to the operating table. So were his legs, which were much further away than he remembered. A hint of real panic struck his heart. Something was seriously wrong.

The door to the operating room slid open, and he found himself rising, the operating table rotating to the upright position. As he rose, he saw two dark-cloaked figures enter the room: Commander Nuruodo and his Master, the Emperor.

The table finished rotating and the Emperor approached him, stopping at his side a few paces away. Vader's head turned slowly to look at him; his head was much heavier than he was used to. For a moment, the only sound was his own rasping breathing. Then the Emperor spoke.

"Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Master." Vader's voice was much deeper than before, and its rich tone filled the room. He turned his head from side to side, examining the room. It didn't tell him much, so he turned back to Sidious. "Where am I? What has happened to me?"

"Your duel with Anakin Skywalker left you …crippled," Sidious told him slowly. "The suit you are wearing, it is the only thing keeping you alive. That …and the Dark Side of the Force."

Vader looked down at his body. It was completely covered by black armor. On his chest, a small control box displayed various instruments, taking readings that Vader could not decipher. He was suddenly aware of a potent tingling in his limbs as connections between his nerves and their prosthetic extensions became active. Vader's heart began to pound as rapidly as the mechanical box he was locked in would allow.

"You mean I'm bound to this …_machine_?"

Sidious smiled. "Necessarily."

The Dark Lord felt his anger beginning to build, coursing through what veins in his body were still human. "What about Anakin? Did he survive?"

Sidious's smile faded. "Yes, he did …but it seems as though the Jedi have managed to ensnare him with their lies once more."

That was the last straw. Vader's rage built to a level that he could not contain, and the room began to shake ominously. Several unlucky medical droids attending to him imploded, spraying stimulants and nutrient fluid all over the equipment. A wave of uncontrollable power seized Vader's limbs, and he ripped the shackle binding him free of the table. His other arm followed, followed by his legs. Vader staggered unexpectedly as he adjusted to the unfamiliar feel of his new limbs, nearly crashing to the ground. The Force spared him such an indignity, but that did not stop him from lurching forward as the truth of what Sidious had told him sank in. Despite everything that he had done, Anakin had not listened. He had allowed the Jedi to take him once more … and Vader, who had sacrificed himself so that Anakin might be free, was left in this monstrous prison, unable to breathe or move without support. He had become the very thing he hated, a greater abomination than the cursed General Grievous. The torrential rage grew even stronger, becoming a cyclone that sent everything that was not bolted down spinning away. Nuruodo clutched the door frame for support while the Emperor shielded himself from flying debris with the Force. A maniacal smile crossed Sidious's face, and his cackling could be heard even over the roar of the wind.

Unable to bear the knowledge of his failure, Vader fell to his knees and raised his voice to the forsaken heavens.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

The droids bustled about anxiously, working frantically against the clock to save their patient. Bail's paced back and forth like a cornered animal, trying to hold back a string of frantic exclamations. Yoda leaned heavily on his stick, drawing upon the Force for guidance. Luke and Leia cried loudly as they sensed their mother's distress. But Anakin Skywalker noticed none of them. For him, the rest of the galaxy had vanished. There was Padmé, and only Padmé.

Anakin had closed his eyes and pressed his wife's hand to his forehead. As he withdrew from the physical world, he focused all of his immeasurable power on his love for his angel - his light, his universe. He reached out across the void of space and time that had opened between them in the hope that for one moment, he might touch her again.

_I'm sorry, Padmé. _

I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry that I didn't let you help me. I'm sorry that was willing to sacrifice your happiness for your safety. I'm sorry that I'm sorry that in my blindness, I ended up hurting the one thing that I would have given my life to protect.

He thought he felt a spark, a dim light burning a million light years away. That spark ignited his soul with hope, and he pressed on.

_I love you, Padmé, more than life itself. More than anything. I can't live without you._

Padmé stirred, ever so slightly. Her pulse jumped, a single spike on the otherwise flat line. Anakin did not notice, but he continued. He couldn't have stopped now even if he wanted to.

_I'm not perfect, Angel. I have more darkness in me than anyone realizes. That's why I need you. You are the light that keeps me going on through the darkness, that keeps me living when surrounded by so much death. I am lost without you. _

Come back to me. The galaxy needs you, I need you, and our children need you. Twins, Padmé. Beautiful twins. Luke and Leia. You can't let them grow up without a mother. You just can't.

She heard him, he could feel it. She was drawing closer to him, and her light was all that he could see.

"She's responding," he heard a voice say, far off.

Padmé was visible now, in all of her radiance. Anakin's breath caught in his throat. She was close enough now. He reached out towards her …and their hands touched.

Anakin was abruptly jerked back to the stark white hospital room. The monitor was beeping steadily, and the droids were pulling back. Bail let out a huge sigh of relief that could be heard throughout the entire room, and Yoda let a small smile cross his weathered face. Luke and Leia ceased crying.

Anakin was the only one still holding his breath. All his attention was fixed on Padmé. Her chest rose and fell steadily, and warm flush had returned to her cheeks. Nevertheless, she still had not opened her eyes, and Anakin could not be at peace until he saw them, until he knew that her spirit had returned, not just her body.

Padmé gasped suddenly, beginning to stir. Time seemed to be standing still, waiting for a sign that life had been renewed.

Padmé opened her eyes – wondrous, beautiful brown eyes that could capture the love of anyone with a heart. They shone with the intensity of stellar fire, reflecting her renewed will to live. She spoke.

"Anakin?"

Anakin's shoulders sagged in relief, and he felt as though the weight of an entire lifetime of despair had been lifted from him. Unable to keep up his pretense of strength any longer, tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I'm here, Angel."

Padmé turned her head to gaze at him, and she broke into a radiant smile. "Oh Ani, you're here."

Anakin tried to stay coherent through his tears. "Yes, Angel. I'm right here, and I always will be, as long as you're here too."

Padmé let out a deep breath, revealing how tired she was. "You did it, Ani. You saved me. You brought me back."

Anakin smiled. "You're the one that saved me, Padmé. If I had lost you, the darkness in my soul would have consumed me."

Padmé's smile faded, the dark figure still present in her thoughts. But in this moment, such a memory could not endure. "The children?"

"They're alive, Padmé, and they're strong. They have your spirit."

Padmé's smile returned, even brighter than before. "Thank the Force." She looked at her beloved husband, an amused glint in her eye. "Ani, I think you're crushing my hand."

Anakin looked down and found that he was still holding his wife's hand in an iron grip. He looked back up, matching her smile. "You'd better get used to it, Angel. I'm not letting go again. Ever."

Padmé batted her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner. "Promise?"

Anakin laughed and leaned in to kiss her. "I promise."

Their kiss was deep, long, and passionate, carrying the full power of their shared love. Across the room, Bail wiped his eyes on a piece of cloth, which he put away rather quickly when he saw Yoda looking at him with a raised eyebrow. The nursing droid hovered over to the twins' cribs and lifted Luke and Leia out. She made her way over to the bed.

Anakin and Padmé broke their kiss as the droid passed one swathed bundle to each parent. Anakin looked down into the face of his daughter. Leia gave him what appeared to be a smile. She reached up with one tiny hand to grasp her father's finger. Anakin grinned at Padmé. "She has your eyes."

Padmé, who was holding Luke, grinned back. "This one has got his father's good looks."

"How about we switch?"

Padmé passed him Luke and Anakin passed her Leia. Anakin held his son carefully and smiled at him. The boy radiated contentment through the Force. A wave of love swept over Anakin, and for a moment he forgot the galaxy's troubles; the threat of the Empire and his tremendous guilt over the loss of his master on Mustafar. No doubt those worries would return in time, stronger than ever. For now, however, Anakin was content to live in the moment.

Yes, he thought as he looked at his wife and children. He wished that this moment could last a lifetime.

* * *

I know that some of you objected to Vader ending up in the suit. Rest assured, I have a reason for this, which will hopefully be clear over the next few chapters.


	47. Another Day Will Come

After taking such extensive breaks, you guys deserve a couple updates in quick succession. You'll probably have to wait at least a few days for the next one, so enjoy!

For all those who asked, you will find out what's happening with Sabe in this chapter, and also see how Vader is adjusting to his new suit. (He did lose his legs by the way - the droids had to amputate them). At the end of this chapter, there is an author's note explaining how the five year time lapse that goes into affect starting with Chapter 48 will work.

Happy Easter to you all!

**

* * *

Chapter 47**

Master Yoda leaned back in his chair, having just finished recounting to the other occupants of the conference room the story of his confrontation with the Emperor, the Wookies' rescue, and Mace Windu's final stand. Everyone had been held at rapt attention as Yoda spoke, for though the great Jedi Master spoke plainly and humbly, he painted a vivid picture of the scene. The image was so real that they could almost imagine that they had been there to see the Korun Master wielding his blade against an onrushing wall of clones, immersed in the light, all doubt erased from his mind at long last. But now, the tale was over and they were left to take in the implications of a future without one of their most valuable allies.

Padmé spoke first. "Do you think that there is any chance that he's still alive?"

Yoda drummed his fingers on the tabletop, a remarkably absent gesture for on who had such control over his own mind. "Uncertain, I am. A great warrior, Master Windu is. Possible, it is, that he escaped Palpatine's killers. But vanished from the Force, he has."

This was not conclusive evidence. Yoda, after all, had been unable to sense Obi-Wan after Grievous captured him. Everyone present, particularly his former apprentice, had seen firsthand what had transpired after Obi-Wan had been given up for dead.

"What about the Wookies?" Bail asked.

"Killed, many of them were," Yoda said grimly. "Returned to Kashyyyk, most of the survivors did. A few, including Chewbacca, refused to abandon Master Windu. Went back for him, they did."

"And you have had no contact with them since?" Bail pressed.

Yoda's silence was the only answer he needed.

"Okay," Bail sighed. "I think that it's time again for us to discuss our next move. The Emperor still lives and Vader …"

He paused. Speculation as to Vader's fate had been conflicting. Anakin had refused to divulge the details on his confrontation with the man that Obi-Wan had become, despite considerable pressure from both Padmé and Bail. All that he would say was that they had dueled, and he had seen Vader fall. Without greater evidence, even Yoda might have accepted that the Sith Lord had died of whatever injuries he had sustained. But when Anakin had reached out into the Force, he had felt the same cold presence that had haunted him their first duel, darker than ever before. Neither Anakin nor Yoda could penetrate the nebulous cloud surrounding him. It could be that Palpatine was pulling a ruse, or it could be that Vader had survived, and was more dangerous than ever before.

Bail found his composure and continued. "All right, we're not sure about Vader yet. The point is that the Empire is still strong; too strong to negotiate with and certainly too strong to fight, at least for now. The Alliance is cut off from most of its supporters, and several critical allies, most notably Mon Mothma and Chandrila, have been subdued because we reached out to them for help. Clearly Palpatine has some information on us that we hadn't anticipated. Until we find out what that is, we are powerless against him. So what can we do?"

He turned his head to each occupant of the room; first Yoda, then Padmé, then Anakin. "The safest course would be to go to ground. Abandon all attempts to organize resistance against the Empire until Palpatine turns his primary focus to other matters. When the coast is clear, we quietly begin again. But I do not favor this course of action. Palpatine has already proven himself to be vindictive, and it could be decades before he stops actively hunting us. During that time, the galaxy will only suffer, and the Empire will only grow stronger. I do not want to endure a lifetime without freedom when we might never get another opportunity to take meaningful action against tyranny."

Padmé spoke up. "Nor I, Bail. Nevertheless, we will do no good by rising up before we are ready and giving Palpatine the excuse he needs to mobilize his military might against the innocent citizens of the galaxy. There has to be a way that we can build up resistance against him, but not draw unwanted attention to ourselves."

Bail nodded in approval. "That's exactly what I was thinking. We allow our resistance to die on the surface, but in the underlying channels of the galaxy we spread the voice of liberty."

Anakin spoke for the first time. He was not in favor of Bail's theory. "You can't be completely passive. Without military action, Palpatine's power will grow until he is unassailable."

"I know what you're saying," Bail said, looking slightly displeased with Anakin's restlessness. "We're talking hit and run attacks. Covert sabotage. Guerilla warfare, all across the galaxy, with no one central hub of resistance for the Empire to strike at. As long as we don't let Palpatine follow beacons of light right to us, we will be successful."

"Brings us, this does, to another crucial matter," Yoda said seriously. "Your children."

Anakin exchanged glances with Padmé, who had kept his arm around protectively for the entire meeting. His wife looked up at him, resignation mingling with the love in her eyes. She had been anticipating this conversation, he could sense it. Anakin felt a brief flash of anger that Yoda had caught him so unprepared, but he buried it quickly, unwilling to let it touch his angel.

"What about our children?"

"Powerful in the Force, they are," Yoda said gravely, "Powerful enough to threaten the Emperor. Hunt them down, he will, if hidden from him, they are not."

"No." Anakin's arm tightened around his wife. "You are _not_ taking our children from us."

Padmé moved her hand to her husband's shoulder. "Anakin …"

"I won't lose them again, Padmé." The idea of being separated from Luke and Leia was like a physical wound in Anakin's heart. "Not after what happened with …"

He stopped. Anakin had not divulged his actions concerning Ventress to anyone in this room, and his rational mind warned him that it was better if things stayed that way.

"I don't want to lose them either, Ani," Padmé said softly. "But if we don't do something to conceal them, the Emperor will take them away from us."

"Padmé's right," Bail said. "The Empire is going to be looking for you both. I know that you both want to take an active role, but you can't do that without putting both Luke and Leia at risk."

Anakin was about to make an angry retort when Padmé put her finger to his lips, silencing him. After a look that told him that this was not any easier for her than it was for him, she turned back to Bail and Yoda. "Do you have any ideas about where we could hide them?"

Bail nodded. "My wife and I could take the girl. We've …always talked of adopting a baby girl. She would be loved with us."

Anakin forced himself to speak calmly. "Won't the Emperor be hunting you as well? He definitely knows that you've been helping us."

Bail smiled. "All he can _prove_ is that I drove the getaway speeder from the Jedi Temple, something I could easily have done as a favor to an old friend. The House of Organa is respected throughout the galaxy, and Alderaan is at the center of many crucial treaties that uphold order in both the Republic and the Empire. As long as I maintain an appearance of fealty to him, he will not come after me. He would not risk destabilizing the Core region unless he felt certain that I was an active threat to him."

This argument did not fully convince Anakin. He knew full well that Palpatine acted on his own will alone, and he was not keen on testing that will with his daughter's life. Nevertheless, he knew that Bail meant well, and having Leia on Alderaan would make it relatively easy for him and Padmé to visit her. He looked down at Padmé, who nodded in approval. "All right. What about Luke?"

Anakin had the answer. "I'll take him to Tatooine, to my step-brother Owen and his wife Beru. I know that they'll take good care of him."

Padmé looked at him anxiously. "Ani, that's a harsh place for a young boy to grow up. He won't have nearly the quality of life that Leia will."

"I know," Anakin said, memories of his own childhood on the desert planet coming to mind. "But Owen and Beru are good people. If we can't protect the twins ourselves, then I can't think of anyone I'd trust to do the job better."

Padmé seemed to accept this. Anakin felt her resignation flood through his connection to her. Padmé, as a mother, could not bear the thought of being separated from her children. But as a pragmatist, she knew that this was the only was to keep them safe. Despite his own strong reservations, Anakin managed to send her a reassuring vibe, and he felt her body relax next to him.

Yoda nodded definitely, signaling that their meeting was at its end. "Until the time is right, disappear we will."

Anakin and Padmé stood up and left the conference room, heading for the nursery. After a moment Bail followed them, presumably to check on Sheltay, who had been very distressed when she had heard that Master Windu had not returned from Coruscant. This left Yoda alone. The ancient Jedi Master closed his eyes, merging his thoughts with the flow of the Force.

"Failed to stop the Sith Lord, I have," he said aloud. "Still much to learn, there is."

Another voice answered him, seeming to emanate from the air itself.

_Patience. You will have time. I did not. When I became one with the Force I made a great discovery. With my training, you will be able to merge with the Force at will. Your physical self will fade away, but you will still retain your consciousness. You will become more powerful than any Sith._

"Eternal consciousness …" Yoda whispered. The concept seemed surreal, and yet … so _right_ within the Force.

_The ability to defy oblivion can be achieved, but only for oneself. It was accomplished by a Shaman of the Whills. It is a state acquired through compassion, not greed._

"To become one with the Force, and influence still have," Yoda mused. "A power greater than all, it is."

_Yes. You will be able to offer guidance and influence events after you depart, as long as your motivations are pure._

Yoda took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Your guidance now, Anakin needs."

_He must find his own path. Perhaps, when the time is right, he may need me to help show him the way. But he is the Chosen One, and he is strong. I have faith that he will fulfill the destiny ascribed to him._

"Marked by destiny, he may be," Yoda admitted, "But not always a blessing, has that proved. If careful, he is not, suffer your apprentice's fate, he will."

The voice carried a hint of pain and remorse when it spoke again. _Obi-Wan has been deceived by the belief that he is serving justice, but that belief is weakening. As time passes, he will become more and more disillusioned by Sidious's teachings. It is then that he will have to decide whether to cling to what he has been told to believe … or to let go. Only he will know, and only he can choose. For though it is right to listen to the will of the Force, at times it is even more valuable to listen to your own heart._

Yoda smiled slightly and rose to leave the room.

"Death has taught you much, Qui-Gon Jinn. Your apprentice, I gratefully become."

* * *

The corridors of Emperor Palpatine's personal star destroyer were silent as Darth Vader made his way through them towards the conference room one level below the bridge. Ten minutes ago his master had summoned him from his meditations in his own personal quarters, saying that they had arrived at their destination and that he had a matter of great importance to discuss. Vader did not know what their destination was or what he was being called in to talk about, but that wasn't important. His master had called him, and so he would obey.

Vader's breathing still seemed to him obnoxiously loud, and he had not yet adjusted fully either to his new mechanical legs or the extra height that they gave him. Though he was now capable of walking without his newly configured sense of balance causing him to fall, he still felt compelled to use the Force as a kind of crutch to provide an added sense of security.

He arrived at the Emperor's conference room without incident. The door slid open for him, indicating that he was expected. Vader entered.

There were only two other people in the room: the Emperor himself and stiff-looking man in his mid-forties. The man wore a gray military uniform with several bars of high rank. He had thinning brown hair and a hard angular face that suggested an innate cruelty. Vader instantly felt a strong wave of dislike for the man, but at the same time he sensed that he was both competent and a devoted servant of the Emperor. He would be wise to find out more about him before he automatically construed him as an enemy.

Palpatine, who was seated at the table examining a stack of datapads, looked up. "Ah, Lord Vader, you're here. Please, join us."

Vader walked over to stand at Palpatine's side. The man with whom the Emperor had been conferring shot Vader a brief look, examining his imposing mask. Vader returned the stare evenly, waiting for the silence to be broken. The Emperor set down the datapad he was consulting and saw the two scrutinizing each other.

"That's right, you haven't been introduced. Lord Vader, this is Governor Wilhuff Tarkin. Governor Tarkin, this is my apprentice, Darth Vader."

Tarkin inclined his head slightly, but did not bow. It was clear that he viewed Vader as an equal, not a superior. "It's a pleasure, Lord Vader."

Vader nodded in acknowledgement, suddenly grateful for his mask, which had concealed his surprise at the name _Tarkin_. He had heard that name before; the data he had recovered from Grievous's chamber had listed him as the man in charge of overseeing the Death Star project. What was going on here? Had the Emperor come to decommission the Death Star … or to take control of its production?

To cover his musings, Vader decided to keep Tarkin talking. "Likewise, Governor. Forgive me, but I have heard of you before, although you were only listed as a Commander."

As he spoke, Vader looked over at his master and sent him a slight Force nudge. The nudge let Palpatine know that he had picked up the reason for Tarkin's presence and was requesting an explanation.

Tarkin's eyes narrowed, but he buried his irritation quickly. "That's correct, Lord Vader. The Emperor was generous enough to promote me."

"Yes," Palpatine stood up, silencing them both. "Governor Tarkin here, in addition to his other duties, has been in charge of a construction project here at Despayre Installation, one which I have a vested interest in."

He activated the holoprojector in the center of the table, and a scaled model of an immense spherical space station appeared. "Behold the Death Star – a space station with a superlaser powerful enough to destroy a planet."

Vader watched the rotating sphere, a long forgotten conversation returning to his mind. Before he had destroyed Grievous, he had learned that Sidious had been the one who had initially commissioned the plans for the Death Star. He had entrusted the plans to Grievous, but the droid had proved treacherous and taken control of the project, beginning construction himself.

Or so Sidious had claimed. And now that Grievous was dead, Palpatine intended to reassume control of the planetary superweapon.

Palpatine, oblivious to his apprentice's thoughts, continued. "The project requires massive resources, but under Governor Tarkin's leadership it is progressing smoothly. In fact, we are now well ahead of schedule. I believe that if we continue at this rate, the Death Star will be able to deploy in a few years, not decades as I had originally planned."

Vader found his voice. "And then to what use will this station be put, My Master?"

Palpatine smiled icily. "The enforcement of peace, order, and the will of this Empire."

So Sidious had lied to him. Vader was not surprised: after all, treachery was the way of the Sith. Still, the Dark Lord could not help but feel angry that he returned the plans to his master under the impression that they would be destroyed, only now to discover that the Emperor had planned to complete the construction all along.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Palpatine asked pointedly.

Knowing that to claim otherwise would be treasonous, Vader nodded. He had to admit, it _was_ imposing. That construction of something so ambitious was even possible was a testament to the power of the Empire.

"The mere sight of such a station would be enough to force capitulation from all but the most foolhardy rebels," he said evenly.

"Precisely," Tarkin interjected. "The fear of this battle station alone will keep more systems in line than the entire Imperial fleet ever could, even if it were it twice its current size."

"And if even one system decides to rebel," Palpatine added, "We will make an example of it that will never be forgotten."

No one spoke for a moment as they watched the holographic Death Star revolve slowly on its axis. The only sound was Vader's ominous breathing.

"Well," Palpatine broke the silence, switching of the projector with the Force. "I believe it is time I saw your progress with my own eyes, Governor."

"Certainly, My Lord," Tarkin bowed. "It should be visible from the bridge by now. If you would follow me?"

Tarkin led the way to the turbolift and stepped inside. Palpatine and Vader followed him. The car carrying the three of them ascended one level to the bridge.

The crew operating the star destroyer's command deck went silent when the Emperor and Tarkin stepped onto the bridge, but if possible an even greater hush fell when Vader emerged. A wave of cold fear pervaded the Force.

Vader allowed their fear to sink in. Fear would always be present in those around him now; he would have to learn to use it and exploit it to his advantage.

The Dark Lord of the Sith made his way to the viewport, where Tarkin and his master already stood, staring out into space. The torn and desolate world of Despayre floated beneath them, its craters even deeper and more pronounced than when Vader had seen it last. He wondered how much longer the planet could sustain such extensive mining before it became unstable … but then those thoughts vanished as the Death Star came into view.

The massive space station, one hundred and twenty kilometers in diameter, dominated the space around it. A continuous stream of traffic flowed from the planet to the space station and back again, bearing the massive amounts of processed material needed to keep the construction moving forward. The brilliant glow emanating through the several gaps in the superstructure was evidence of a reactor core with the energy of a small star. When the necessary pathways were completed, that core would channel its energy through the special lens in the focusing disk, creating a laser beam that would annihilate a planet … and its billions of inhabitants.

Vader crossed his arms and surveyed the superweapon. His master's dark delight satuared the Force around him. While Vader did not share the sentiment, he felt a sense of just finality draw over him. The Dark Side of the Force would reign supreme. Order in the galaxy was secure. No one … no one … would dare to stand against the power of the Sith again.

* * *

Sabé tilted her head back to stare at the blank white ceiling of the examination room and let out a frustrated sigh. _What am I doing here?_

She had spent all her time since arriving on Polis Massa locked in her room, unwilling to face the galaxy with the knowledge that Obi-Wan was lost to her forever. For two days she had directed all of her built-up rage at Anakin, cursing him for what he had done. How could Anakin have ever gathered enough resolve to strike down Obi-Wan, the man who had trained him and loved him as a brother for thirteen years? Anakin had known as well as Sabé that beneath the darkness that was Vader, Obi-Wan had been alive and fighting. She had reached him, she knew that she had! She had touched him! For a moment, she had been certain that she could bring him back. But then his hatred for the Jedi had kicked in again, and the man she loved had slipped away.

Then Anakin had seen fit to destroy her hope. He had abandoned Obi-Wan on Mustafar, leaving him to burn or to be recaptured by that monster of a man he called a master. Sabé refused to admit that she had seen pain in Anakin's eyes that matched her own, and that her innermost convictions told her that Anakin would not have left Obi-Wan behind if he thought that there was any chance that he could be saved, that Anakin would have traded his life for Obi-Wan's. No, it was much easier to believe that Anakin, blinded by his anger over what had happened to Padmé, had cut Vader down without remorse.

Sabé had clung to this delusion for days while she sobbed her heart out in her room, but now it was so thin and insubstantial that she could no longer use it to shield herself from what had happened. All the while, she knew that she had been trying to deflect the pain of guilt away from herself.

When she had finally emerged from her room, she had run into Padmé. To her shock, she had learned that Padmé had given birth to beautiful twins, Luke and Leia. Not only that, she had nearly died after delivering them, and it had been Anakin who saved her before she let go of her will to live.

Sabé had immediately felt terrible guilt descend upon her and had pleaded for Padmé's forgiveness. Padmé had immediately given it to her and brought her to the nursery to see the twins. Anakin had been there holding them and looking every bit the perfect father. There had been an extremely tense and awkward moment when he saw Sabé, but he had yielded to his wife's request that her best friend be allowed to hold the children with some gentle prompting.

Both Luke and Leia had been sleeping, their angelic faces peaceful and untroubled. Sabé had felt happiness wash over her as she looked at them, momentarily obscuring the pain of her loss. She knew that these children would grow up strong and full of life, bringing great joy to their parents. She had held them for several minutes, lost in dreams of a bright future, until finally she had returned the children to Anakin, who laid them in their crib.

Sabé, her sense of reality returning, had asked Padmé for an update on what had happened over the past few days. Padmé had told her about the plans to lay the groundwork for an underground resistance to the Empire, and Anakin, quietly, had informed her that they had evidence that Obi-Wan had survived on Mustafar.

For a moment Sabé's spirits had soared, but before she could reach the peaks of elation, Padmé had added softly that Vader's survival and the Emperor's continued existence meant that their children would be hunted down. For their own safety, Luke and Leia were to be split up and hidden on different worlds: Luke with Owen and Beru Lars on Tatooine, and Leia under the care of the Organas on Alderaan. The pain in Padmé's voice had been audible, and Sabé had seen her dear friend's eyes fill with tears.

Overcome with remorse for Padmé, Sabé had asked if there was anything that she could do. Padmé's request had been for Sabé to be examined by a medical droid to make sure that two days of seclusion and grieving had not caused her to fall ill.

So here she was, waiting impatiently in a barren examination room, bored out of her mind. She knew perfectly well that she was fine, but she had not been about to turn down Padmé's plea when her friend was so burdened by the prospect of parting from her children.

The examination had been undertaken by a competent, but dry medical droid with the designation MD-27. For half of a standard hour he had poked and prodded her, testing her reflexes and checking for any signs of infection. They had nearing the end when the droid had run several full-body scans and noticed something he claimed needed further analysis. The droid had left the room to run some tests on the data without explaining to Sabé what it was that he had seen. He had been gone for some time and Sabé, who was not the most patient person in the galaxy, was tempted to leave before he came back.

Just as she had stood up on the pretense of stretching her legs, the droid returned. He was clutching a statistical readout of the scans and consulting them with one eye while he hovered in front of Sabé. "I have the results."

Sabé sat back down on the bed with a sigh. "Well?"

"Before I give them to you I would like to ask you a few questions. Your answers will confirm my diagnosis."

Sabé rolled her eyes. That was the trouble with droids; all but a few notable exceptions were bound to following their programming without ingenuity. "Shoot."

"Have you had any cramps or muscle pain lately?"

Sabé shrugged. She had, particularly in her abdominal region. Not that that was anything to worry about. "Yes. I've been through a lot lately."

The droid made a little check on his results sheet. "How about dizziness? Nausea? Have you blacked out at any time?"

Sabé frowned. She had – the most recent time she could remember had been on the ship en route to Mustafar. Now she was curious. "Yes, I have. A few times."

The droid made another check. "Any mood swings? Cravings?"

Sabé sighed. "Look EmDee, could you please tell me where you are going with this. Am I sick?"

MD-27 shook his head. "No. You are completely healthy."

Sabé raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you asking me all these questions? What do these symptoms mean?"

"The symptoms I have listed are a reflection of your body's current state," the droid told her, tucking away his results sheet. "They are perfectly normal – in a woman who is several months pregnant."

Sabé froze. "Pregnant?"

Her mind raced, thousands of thoughts and emotions flooding her mind. Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. How had this happened? How could she not have known? And most importantly, who was the father?

The answer to the last question came to her almost immediately. Obi-Wan, it had to be Obi-Wan. She hadn't been with anyone but him for over a year.

Somehow, she found her voice. "How …how far along am I?"

MD-27 consulted his sheet again. "Just over four standard months."

Four months. That it put right at the time when Obi-Wan had left Coruscant on his mission for Utapau. The one night they had shared together. Sabé's heart ached as the treasured memory came back to her, both bitter and sweet. There was no doubt now. She was carrying Obi-Wan Kenobi's child.

"Thank … thank you," she stammered to the droid.

MD-27 bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "I will be right outside if you require assistance."

He left, shutting the door behind him. Sabé was alone with her thoughts. No, wait, she realized suddenly. She wasn't alone. She wouldn't be alone again for at least five months.

The full magnitude of what she had just learned descended upon her. But instead of weighing her down, the new knowledge sent her soul soaring up to a height it had never before attained. She was pregnant. She, Sabé Naberrie, was going to be a mother. Not only that, but Obi-Wan was the child's father. Sabé laughed, a musical sound that echoed in her own ears and warmed her heart. Who would have ever believed it?

If only Obi-Wan could have been here to share this moment. Then everything would be perfect. But now, even though she knew that her love was still under the sway of the Emperor, she could think of him without pain. As long as he still lived and she still lived, their child would have a chance to grow up with both parents, a chance to enjoy every bit of the love and happiness it deserved.

The beautiful young woman placed a hand over her abdomen, which carried the spark of new life. All across the galaxy the sun was setting: on Coruscant, on Alderaan, on Tatooine. But the sun had risen for Sabé. She could wait for now. She could wait forever if that was how much time was needed. She had all the strength, all the will to live now that she would ever need.

Sabé closed her eyes and imagined herself on Naboo. She imagined the sun on her face, the sound of distant waterfalls, and running forever through lush green fields as she basked in the renewal of hope.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Okay, as you all know, this is around the time when Episode III drew to a close. **The Shadow of Vader**, on the other hand, does not end here. What will happen instead is that there will be a time gap of about five years between the events of Chapter 47 and Chapter 48. During this time, the Empire will consolidate its hold on the galaxy and the Rebels will set up an underground resistance similar to the one they developed in Star Wars canon before the destruction of the first Death Star.

All our major characters - Anakin, Vader, Padme, Sabe, Palpatine, Yoda, etc. - will be active during this time, but I won't bore you by describing everything that they will be doing here. The most important events that took place in this interlude will be described in coming chapters. I am pleased to say that I finally sat down and got my entire outline for this story on paper, so I now know exactly where this story will end, how to get there, and how many chapters it will take to get there. By my calculations this story is about 70 completed, but there is still much more action to come! I sincerely hope that you will enjoy the conclusion to this story as much as I hope to enjoy writing it. Take care, everyone!

**Darth Vastor**

P.S. I'm just a seventeen year old guy, so please forgive me if I did not accurately describe the timetable of the symptoms that Sabe was experiencing. The exact stages of pregnancy are not something that I am familiar with, nor do I have any desire to become so until I am helping my wife through the process many years down the road. So to any female readers who have actually borne children, I hope that my ignorance did not pull you out of the flow of the story.


	48. Five Years Later

All right, Chapter 48! I sincerely apologize for my recent inactivity concerning this story, but I am in the middle of my last big push for the school year, before I graduate. Once I finish all my exams and my Senior Project, I'll start writing again. Hopefully, I will still find time to update regularly once summer starts. As I said, all the planning's done so it's just a matter of finding time to write.

Take care everyone, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 48**

_Five years later …_

The Outer Rim of the galaxy was full of so-called "forgotten worlds". These worlds were planets that were either devoid of life, possessed no viable natural resources, or were simply too remote and inaccessible for anyone to be interested in visiting them. Many of these worlds did not even have a name. Surveyors of the Old Republic, finding nothing of interest in the system, had simply designated these planets with an official registration number and then abandoned them once more. Occasionally pirates or a smuggler on the run stumbled across one of these worlds, but they never stayed long. Those planets that did have life were often dangerous, and no one thought it a worthwhile endeavor to try and establish a civilization so far from the active center of the galaxy.

Coprighin 5 was such a world. It was located in a remote quadrant of the galaxy, billions of light years from the Core. Despite its close proximity to several outlying trade routes and hyperspace lanes, the system was surrounded by gravity wells which made navigation difficult. Even if one managed to get there, the Coprighin system possessed an immense asteroid field which not only presented a danger to ships but also made sensors unreliable. Plus, the system itself was unremarkable. Only one world possessed a breathable atmosphere, and while that world had a lush forest and several kinds of feral species, there were no sentient species of any kind.

All these factors made it a perfect location for a rebel base.

Far in the outlying regions of the system, a ship reverted from light speed. The ship was enormous, over a kilometer and a half long. It bristled with a fearsome array of turbolasers and weapon emplacements, as well as a vast hanger bay capable of holding hundreds of starfighters. The ship's triangular prow seemed capable of spearing whatever enemy it came into contact with and tearing it to pieces. This was the _Reaper_, and it was one of the newest Star Destroyers commissioned by the Galactic Empire.

Slowly but purposefully, the _Reaper_ turned its imposing prow towards the asteroid field that separated the outer regions from the rest of the system. Despite the danger presented by asteroids the size of the ship itself, the Star Destroyer continued to advance through the field, heading directly for Coprighin 5.

* * *

Captain Seti Roswall stood on the bridge of the _Reaper_, monitoring its progress through the asteroid field. Though he was far too dignified and hardened by military training to show it, he was nervous - more nervous than he could ever remember being before. This was the _Reaper_'s maiden voyage, and if anything were to befall it, he would quickly find himself slaving away in the spice mines of Kessel, if he even survived to tell the tale.

A bead of sweat slid down his shaven face. Of course, that wasn't the only reason he was nervous. There was the mission itself. He was not worried about the Rebels; they almost certainly didn't have anything that could compete with the firepower he had under his command. No, what worried Captain Roswall the most was his superior – the man who had been personally directed by the Emperor to oversee this mission. The man who made the galaxy his tremble at his name.

Captain Roswall turned his head and addressed the lieutenant standing behind him. "Inform Lord Vader that we have arrived in-system and are currently progressing through the asteroid field, as ordered."

The lieutenant saluted, and then hurried off. Roswall shook his head slightly. What a brave, foolish boy to run off without fear. The Dark Lord of the Sith was renowned for his ruthlessness, and he did not hesitate to punish his servants if he thought that they were somehow incompetent. The lieutenant had best hope that he presented himself well.

He returned his attention to navigating through the asteroids. This was a far more dangerous approach than he would have liked to attempt, but Vader had been adamant that they must catch the Rebels by surprise. Personally, Roswall did not see why such a remote base merited the attention of either the _Reaper_ or the Emperor's second-in-command. However, if he voiced such sentiments aloud then he might find the invisible fingers of the Force tightening around his neck. It was far better to keep such opinions to himself.

The door behind him suddenly slid open, and the familiar deep breathing reached his ears. A cold tingle erupted on the back of Roswall's neck. Swallowing hard and willing himself not to tremble, he turned to face the sound.

Darth Vader strode onto the bridge, instantly commanding the attention of all present. The Dark Lord towered over everyone else, and the fearsome black armor and mask only added to his mystique. He looked completely unassailable, every part one of the most renowned and feared men in the galaxy.

Vader wasted no time surveying the bridge, making straight for Roswall. The air seemed to have frozen as he advanced, the only sound emanating from his respirator. Everyone else, it seemed, was holding their breath.

Roswall straightened up as much as he could and bowed low. "Lord Vader, we are honored by your presence."

"You may dispense with the pleasantries, Captain," Vader told him, his powerful voice shaking the frozen air. "I am here to ensure that this mission is completed to the satisfaction of the Emperor."

"Of course, My Lord," Roswall rose and tried to look calm. "Everything has been done as you have specified."

Vader walked up to the front viewport and surveyed the space ahead. Coprighin 5 gleamed in the center like a green jewel. "Then the Rebels have not been alerted to our presence?"

"The asteroid field will mask our sensor signature until we are within striking distance of the planet."

"Good," Vader intoned. "I want to make sure that not one of them manages to get off-planet."

"They will not, My Lord," Roswall said, wishing that he was as confident as he sounded. "If I may interject, have you decided on a final deployment pattern for our ground forces?"

Vader nodded without looking at him. "I want two drop ships to leave our hanger as soon as we are clear of the asteroid field and land on the jungle side of the base. We will cut them off and force them into the plains, where our walkers and our stormtroopers will annihilate them. Under no circumstances do I want a ship taking off from the planet. If my quarry escapes from me, I shall be most displeased."

Roswall frowned slightly. The word _quarry_ seemed an odd one for Vader to use. It sounded as though the Dark Lord were interested in hunting down a single individual, not a group of Rebels. "Will you oversee the attack from here, My Lord?"

Vader shook his helmeted head. "No. I will direct the ground deployment from the lead drop ship and join the vanguard for the assault on the on the main rebel base."

Roswall was stunned. He already thought that this planet was not worth the resources that had been committed to it, and now Lord Vader himself wanted to lead the ground attack? He could see instantly why the soldiers of the Empire revered Vader – he never asked them to do anything that he could not do himself, and willingly placed his own life alongside theirs. All the same, surely a base like the one on Coprighin 5 did not merit his personal attention.

"My Lord, with all due respect," he stammered, "Surely your own life is far too valuable to risk on the assault of such an insignificant world …"

Vader rounded on him, and terror leapt into Roswall's heart. For a moment, he was certain that his life was flashing before his eyes.

The Dark Lord of the Sith spoke in a low hiss that was even more frightening than his usual booming voice. "I do not care about the military significance of this world, Captain. There is a Jedi down on the surface of that planet, aiding the Rebels. I will not allow her to escape from me. Not this time."

* * *

"Bronson!"

Lieutenant Jax Bronson jerked awake, his feet sliding off the sensor display where he had been resting them. "What?"

He opened his eyes to find the angry face of Commander Max Calton centimeters from his own. "Bronson, that's the third time you've fallen asleep on sensor duty since you were assigned ground side! Are you that incapable of spending more than two hours out of a starfighter?"

Jax straightened up in his chair and tried to look at attention. "Yes … I mean, no! No Sir!"

Calton made a derisive sound. "By the Force, I can't wait until you're cleared to fly again. You make everyone else around here look sloppy!"

A few meters away to Jax's left, the communications officer on duty, Natrina Tarvas, grinned broadly and tried to hide it with her hand. Jax saw her laughing at him and flushed with shame. "I'm sorry, sir."

Calton grunted. "Don't fall asleep again. We need someone alert on sensor duty. I'm sure that if you're not up to the challenge, the soldiers who clean the mess hall would be more than happy to switch with you!"

Jax hurriedly busied himself with his instruments. "No need to worry, Commander. I'm fully ready for anything the Empire can throw our way!"

Calton shook his head and left the room muttering under his breath about discipline.

Jax rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair. Another day, same old story. They hadn't seen action for months and Calton continued to insist that the base be run like a recruiting boot camp. He was going to burst a blood vessel one of these days.

Jax Bronson was a fighter pilot, and a damned good one at that. He had joined the Rebellion two years ago in response to the Empire's attack on his homeworld of Corellia, whose government had attempted to rise up against the Emperor. The Imperial Fleet had bombarded the capital city of Coronet from orbit, killing thousands, including Jax's mother, father, older brother, and younger sister. Consumed by anger, Jax, who had been training for CorSec at the time, left the planet and established contact with a rebel sympathizer who put him in touch with the Alliance military. His dream was to eventually be given his own squadron to command and to lead it against the Empire. He had been well on his way to achieving that goal, wracking up dozens of kills and earning the respect of his squadron leader for his daring.

Unfortunately, his group had been ambushed over Sullust. Jax's fighter had been shot down, and he had been forced to go EV. He had survived, but he had suffered internal trauma and spending six hours floating in his environmental suit hadn't helped his condition. By the time he had been rushed to the nearest base – Coprighin 5 – for treatment, Jax was at death's door and the base's medics were powerless to revive him. He would have succumbed to his injuries had it not been for the miraculous intervention of a mysterious woman who had somehow healed him. The woman gave her name as An'ya Kuro.

An'ya Kuro, it seemed, was a human woman who had lived on the planet for several years before the Rebels had arrived. She had white hair and piercing dark blue eyes. Her build was lithe and athletic, and although she was clearly old, she moved with the grace and confidence of someone much younger. She dwelt somewhere in the jungle near the base – no one knew exactly where. Though she had provided aid to the Rebels on several occasions, healing those so grievously injured that the doctors could not help them, no one at the base seemed to truly trust her. Maybe they resented her, but Jax had the suspicion that it had more to do with the innate power that the woman seemed to possess. Some of the more superstitious Rebels whispered that she practiced black magic, an idea that a Corellian like Jax found ludicrous. There was no such thing as magic, black or otherwise. There was only luck, and you were either born with it or without it.

Jax had a substantial amount of luck in his veins; maybe that was why he had survived the destruction of his fighter. His entire life had been blessed by good fortune, right up until the day that the Empire killed his family. Since that day, Jax's view of the galaxy had turned considerably darker. He had lost everyone he loved, taken to using his piloting skills to kill others, and finally been forced into sensor duty at this remote base while he waited for medical clearance to fly again. _But maybe_ he thought, sneaking a glance at Natrina over his shoulder, _being sidelined on this backwater planet is actually a blessing in disguise._

All thoughts of the mysterious An'ya Kuro vanished from his mind as he watched Natrina silently. She hailed from Commenor, she was his age and she was breathtakingly beautiful. She had shoulder-length blonde hair which curled slightly at the ends, a warm, gentle face, and deep green eyes, not to mention a sensuous feminine build that made Jax's mouth go dry and his heart race every time he looked at her. Normally Jax was very comfortable around women, especially attractive ones, but there was something about Natrina that seemed to rob him of his ability to think. During the few conversations that he had had with her, he had found himself completely absorbed by her beauty, only to have her look at him strangely and ask if he was all right. He would stumble over his words and then hurry away, feeling like a complete and utter idiot.

Jax thought that he had done a fairly good job concealing his attraction to Natrina from both her and his friends. That was before he found out that the boys in his squadron had a lucrative pool going on how long it would be before he finally admitted to Natrina that he was crazy about her. The smart money was on six months, while a few risk takers had staked their credits on 'never'.

Jax had been honestly trying for the past few weeks to work up the courage to ask Natrina out for caf when they were off duty, but something always seemed to be holding him back. As he looked at her now, she suddenly turned to look at him over her shoulder and gave him a smile that immediately caused his mind to go blank.

"Something bothering you, Jax?"

_My name. She used my first name. And we're not even off duty._ Jax tried to look cool, confident, and completely in control – everything that he wasn't right now. "No, everything's great … just beautiful, in fact."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure, flyboy?"

"Yes! Well …" he dropped his charade, aware that it wasn't fooling her. "No, actually. I do have something weighing on my mind."

She laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. "Well, at least you're man enough to admit it."

Jax turned to face his sensor screen, hoping to cover up his embarrassment. Everything seemed to be clear, the only change was that a new asteroid had entered the belt and was moving towards them. But that was nothing new – the systems gravity captured new objects every day. Still, this one seemed to be moving very fast …

Natrina's voice captured his attention again. "You want to talk about it?"

Yes, he did want to talk about it, more than anything. Looking back at her, he saw that she was leaning towards him, her eyes sparkling and her face eager. Realizing that he might never have another opportunity like this, Jax took a deep breath.

"Natrina, I was wondering if maybe sometime you would like to …"

A warning alarm from his console cut him off. Cursing under his breath in every language his knew, Jax forced himself to look back at the display. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Natrina's eyes, and his heart pounded furiously. Maybe she might have said yes …

All such thought vanished from his mind when he saw the cause of the alarm on his sensor display. Emerging from the asteroid field at full attack speed was an Imperial Star Destroyer. The blood drained from Jax's face as he saw that it was already launching fighters and drop ships, which were heading straight for the base.

He whirled back to face Natrina. "Get on the emergency channel now! We have a Star Destroyer in system, coming right for us!"

Fear sprang onto Natrina's face and she immediately activated the base intercom. "Red Alert! Red Alert! The Empire has discovered the base! Enemy craft are incoming!"

Jax collapsed back his chair, unable to believe what had just happened. His luck had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

* * *

The drop ship carrying Darth Vader and one hundred specially trained stormtroopers plummeted towards the surface, air resistance igniting a fire on all sides. The transport was shaking so much that it seemed ready to break apart, but none of the stormtroopers showed any sign of apprehension. They took their cue from Vader, and Vader was in complete control.

After over a minute of sharp descent, the drop ship began to level off. It touched down on the narrow stretched of open grass that separated the Rebel base from the vast jungle to the west. The other drop ship landed moments later; cutting the rebels off from the one place they could flee to escape destruction. The drop ship's engines shut off and the door slid open.

"Go!" the squad commander ordered.

The stormtroopers charged out of the bay, weapons up and firing. They immediately split into ten separate sub-squads, each commanded by a field lieutenant, catching the disorganized rebels completely off-guard. Dozens of the insurgents fell instantly, and the rest retreated to cover under a withering hail of blaster fire.

Darth Vader ignited his blood-red lightsaber and followed his troops down the ramp. As soon as he cleared the smoke, a cry of dismay went up from the enemy. They immediately began to direct the majority of their fire at the Dark Lord of the Sith. Vader's lightsaber moved effortlessly, turning aside every shot.

The stormtroopers began to advance, forcing the rebels out of hiding with flash and concussion grenades, and then cutting down those who had abandoned cover. The line quickly thinned, and Vader made his way to the forefront, drawing fire so that his troops could secure advantageous positions.

The rebels had a turret gun guarding the entrance. Two of them managed to turn it on the advancing Imperials and open fire. One of the sub-squads was decimated and broke apart under a constant stream of heavy fire. The turret swung around, looking for another sub-squad to target.

Vader reached out with the Force, seized the two Rebels controlling the gun, and flung them from the turret. Then before two other Rebels could reassume control, the Dark Lord used his power to tear the turret free of the ground, crush it into a ball, and send it crashing into the blast door of the base. The few Rebels who had been foolish enough to take cover in the door arch were instantly crushed.

Deprived of the one weapon that could even the playing field, the Rebels broke apart. The survivors abandoned their ground and raced for the open plains. They wouldn't get far. Sealing off retreat into the plains were a dozen All-Terrain Scout Walkers. The prototype AT-ST vehicles were designed as anti-personnel craft and proceeded to make short work of the fleeing insurgents.

Their path cleared, Vader activated his communicator and broadcast over the squadron frequency. "Gamma group, secure the landing field. The rest of you, come with me!"

The stormtroopers he had specified hurried to the blast door of the base, setting explosive charges. With a detonation that shook the entire base, the passage was opened. The vanguard line plunged into the enemy's stronghold, with Vader close behind.

* * *

Jax Bronson felt the entire building shake, and debris began to rain down from the corridor's ceiling. Instinctively, he threw himself on top of Natrina, shielding her from danger. He was so worried about her safety that he almost failed to notice that her warm body was pressed directly up against his. Almost.

As soon as the trembling stopped, he rolled off of Natrina and helped her to her feet. "Come on, we need to move."

She accepted his hand, eyeing the ceiling nervously. "What happened?"

"The Empire must have blown the door," Jax said grimly. "We can't stay here. Come on."

He led her down the hallway leading towards the base's nearest exit. His soldier's mentality compelled him to stand and fight, but he had to make sure that Natrina got to safety first. If the Empire captured or killed her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Where are we going?" Natrina asked him.

"I'm seeing you onto the evacuation transport."

"And what about you?"

"As soon as you're safe, I'm going back to fight."

She yanked her hand free of his. "No way. If you're staying, I'm staying too."

Jax looked at her in apprehension. While he admired her bravery and her determination, he knew that she wouldn't last long against Imperial stormtroopers.

"Natrina, I don't think …"

She cut him off. "I took combat training just like you did. And you're a fighter pilot, Jax Bronson. You aren't a ground trooper. I can be just as much help down here as you."

"Natrina, I …" Jax couldn't tell her the real reason he wanted her off-planet, not now. The middle of a battle was hardly the place for romantic confessions. "Please, I just don't want you to get hurt."

Her anger faded and she smiled at him. "I appreciate your concern, Jax. But either we're both leaving, or we're both staying. There's no other option."

Jax sighed. He could tell there would be no swaying her. Even though she wasn't Corellian, she was as stubborn as they came. "Okay, we'll stay. But if the battle turns against us, I want you to get to the evacuation transport."

Natrina's smile widened. "Sounds good. Lead the way, flyboy."

_Flyboy. I could get used to it, coming from her._ Jax indicated the hallway to the west. "I think the nearest battle group is this way."

It turned out that they didn't need to go looking for the battle group, because at that moment twenty Rebel soldiers, led by Commander Calton, came running towards them, pursued by laser fire.

"Seal the door!" Calton barked at one of his troopers. "The rest of you, form up!"

The blast door was sealed, and the Rebels reformed their ranks. Calton shook his grizzled head. "It's no use. They'll hunt us down wherever we run, and we're cut off from evac. We'll have to make a stand. Red and Blue groups, take flanking positions on both sides of the door. Gold and Green groups – front and center!" His eyes alighted on Jax and Natrina, apparently forgetting that they were not part of his squad. "Bronson, Tarvas, you and Black group stand with me!"

The Rebels formed up, and Jax drew his heavy blaster out of its holster. He noticed that Natrina's weapon was of a smaller caliber, but she should be all right. Stormtroopers wore their armor for its environmental versatility and its imposing appearance, not the protection it offered from blaster fire.

There were ominous clattering sounds on the other side of the door, and a deep voice issued orders. Jax waited, his blaster leveled at the door. Beside him, Natrina held her breath. He reached down to squeeze her shoulder. They would be all right.

Then there was an explosion, and the blast door crumpled. A wave of smoke and dust blew over the Rebels, followed by a hail of blaster fire.

The Rebels answered immediately, but several members of Green and Gold groups were cut down. Stormtroopers began to emerge through the smoke, advancing in tight formation. As soon as they were clear, they spread out, reducing the effectiveness of the Rebels concentrating their fire. The stormtroopers then rounded on Red and Blue groups, intent on removing the flanking threat before they tried to advance.

Jax squeezed the trigger and fired as fast as his weapon would allow. He saw two stormtroopers drop. Beside him Natrina was also firing, and another stormtrooper fell. Calton was yelling orders, instructing those under his command to provide support for Red and Blue groups before they were overrun. More of the vanguard troopers fell, but another wave charged through the door to take their place.

Without warning, one of the stormtroopers threw a concussion grenade. It landed in the middle of the hallway, and the explosion took out almost all the surviving members of Green group. Gold group tried to fill the positions of their fallen comrades, but they were too thinly dispersed and subsequently cut down.

Through the smoke, Jax could see that nearly all the members of red and blue groups had been killed. Commander Calton, recognizing that Black group could not hold the door alone, roared for the survivors to fall back. Having secured the doorway, the remaining stormtroopers charged after them, clearly intending to wipe them out.

Jax tried to stay low and shield Natrina as he ran. Behind him, two of his comrades fell. With a jolt, he realized that there were only five soldiers left, including himself, Natrina, and Commander Calton. They rounded a corner when Calton abruptly stopped. Jax noticed that the Commander was wounded, clutching his side.

"Listen," he gasped. "A smaller squad has broken away from the main group. They're trying to head us off. I want all of you to go and try to slip through before they seal off the perimeter. I'll cover you from here."

"What?" Jax exclaimed. "Commander, you've got to come with us. If you stay here, they'll kill you!"

"Don't be an idiot, Bronson," Calton growled. "I'll slow you down. The Rebel Alliance needs every able-bodied soldier it can get, and I'm not about to sacrifice your lives for a lost cause. Go. That's an order!"

Jax hesitated, but he knew that he had to respect the Commander's dying words. With a gentle nudge from Natrina, he followed the other two soldiers down the corridor.

A ruckus behind him forced Jax to look back, and he saw the stormtroopers rounding the corner. Calton was able to squeeze off three shots, killing two and wounding a third, before ten laser beams struck him in the chest and he collapsed to the floor.

Jax, anger and sadness flooding his heart, turned and raced towards the blast door at the far end of the corridor. The two soldiers had managed to open it, and were waving him on. Jax and Natrina dove through the portal, and the soldiers sealed it behind them.

One of them helped Jax and Natrina to their feet. "This way. One more turn and we're at the exit."

They moved in the indicated direction. Just before they reached the corner, however, someone stepped around it to confront them. It wasn't a stormtrooper.

Jax's breath caught in his throat and he heard Natrina scream in horror. The man was over two meters tall, dressed head to toe in black armor and a flowing cape. He turned his sinister, masked face towards them and a cold rattle escaped from his mouth. In his hand he held a glowing red blade.

_Darth Vader!_

Jax staggered backwards, unconsciously bringing his weapon up to fire. Never in his entire life could he have dreamed that he would be unlucky enough to come face to face with the Dark Lord of the Sith in a narrow hallway with nowhere to run. It was his worst nightmare.

Vader wasted no time. With a pair of slashes faster than the eye could follow, he beheaded the two soldiers who had leveled their weapons at him. Jax pumped the trigger as rapidly as he could, hoping one shot would get through. Not a chance.

Vader deflected the bolts easily, and then extended his hand. Jax was picked up by an invisible force and thrown into the wall with at a terrifying speed. His ribs cracked, and he slid to the floor, stunned.

Natrina screamed his name and directed her fire at Vader. Jax tried to gasp out a warning, pleading with her to run, but his voice had been stolen from him. Vader ripped the blaster from Natrina's hand and she stumbled, helpless at his feet.

Jax, realizing that he still had his weapon, pointed it at Vader. "Let her go!" he gasped, struggling to rise.

Vader, sensing the greater threat behind him, spun around and slammed his foot into Jax's already damaged chest. The blaster fell from the young Corellian's nerveless fingers. Vader, no mercy in his soulless mask, raised his lightsaber for the killing strike.

"Darth Vader!"

A new voice rang out from behind the Dark Lord. Jax recognized it. That couldn't be …

It was An'ya Kuro. The mysterious woman who had healed him stood a few meters away at the bend in the corridor, looking directly at the Sith Lord.

Vader spun around to face her, seeming to forget all about Jax and Natrina as he brought his blade up to the ready position. "An'ya Kuro. The Dark Woman. We meet again at last."

An'ya's dark blue eyes locked onto him. "Let them go, Vader. Your quarrel is with me."

Vader began to advance towards her. "You robbed me of the satisfaction of killing you at the Jedi Temple," he snarled. "I can assure you that you will not slip away this time."

An'ya withdrew a weapon from her belt – a lightsaber. "You may be strong Vader, but I will not yield to you without a fight."

"Good," Vader growled. "Then I will be able to draw out your suffering!"

He lunged for her. The Dark Woman ignited her lightsaber and blocked the attack. Vader used his dominating strength to shove her backwards, around the corner and out of sight.

Natrina, shaking badly, crawled over to where Jax lay. "Jax, are you all right?"

Jax was in considerable pain, but he didn't want to show it. "I'm fine. What about you?"

Natrina smiled. "I'm scared to death, but I'm not hurt."

Jax tried to give her his most winning smile. "Then what do you say we leave this party and rendezvous with the rest of the Alliance?"

Natrina frowned. "I thought that Calton said that we were cut off from the evacuation transport."

"I can get us a ship at the starfighter bay," Jax told her, "But it'll be a one-man craft. You'll have to share my seat."

Something sparkled in Natrina's eyes. "After everything we just went through together, I think I can handle that."

Jax's heart pounded. "So we're good then?"

Natrina laughed and helped him to his feet. "It's a date, flyboy."

Jax felt a foolish grin spread across his face and had no desire to stop it. His luck was changing again, and this time, it was for the better.

* * *

Vader went after the Dark Woman in a pure rage, channeling his dark anger at the betrayal he had suffered years ago into a power that his opponent could never hope to match. An'ya Kuro might have been one of the strongest and most respected members of the old Jedi Order, but she was no match for the Dark Lord of the Sith. Vader drove her backwards through the hallway, and only a lifetime of experience kept the Dark Woman alive to reach its end.

She vaulted backwards through the door, intending to escape the narrow confines of the corridor and move the fight to an open area, where she could turn Vader's limited mobility to her advantage. Vader, however, was expecting such a tactic. Every single survivor of the Jedi Purge that he had fought since Mustafar had tried to turn the battle on him this way.

He had killed them all.

The stormtroopers who were mopping up the last of the Rebels who were guarding the landing field turned when they saw their lord engaged in a heated battle. They did not move to intervene, however. Vader had made it clear to them that this fight was his and his alone.

He met the Dark Woman's renewed attacks head-on, parrying them at every turn. His opponent made full use of her acrobatic abilities, springing over his head and constantly shifting to a new angle, always seeking to reach his unprotected back. Vader frustrated her at every turn, and slowly she began to tire.

They were nearing the jungle now, and it was becoming a battle of endurance. That was a battle which Vader would win every time. With his cybernetic enhanced limbs and his incredible power in the Force, Vader could fight for many hours straight and be, if anything, stronger at the end of the duel. The Dark Woman stumbled, and Vader's blade struck, wounding her in the side.

His opponent gasped, and then leapt over him again, striking down at his helmet as she did so. Vader lost sight of her, but he allowed the Force to guide his hands, bringing his blade into contact with hers. The force of impact ruined the Dark Woman's maneuver, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Vader did not give her a chance to get back up. He reached out with the Force, tore a nearby tree from the ground, and sent it flying towards the Dark Woman. She managed to avoid being crushed, but the heavy trunk pinned her leg to the ground, leaving her helpless.

Vader strode over to his downed enemy and kicked the lightsaber out of her hand. Defeated, the Dark Woman looked up at him. There was no trace of fear in her eyes, only sadness and a resigned acceptance of her fate. Vader inclined his head towards her, and then drew his blade across her throat, slaying her instantly.

The Dark Lord deactivated his lightsaber and turned away from the empty shell that had once held the life of An'ya Kuro. The rage that had been holding his heart prisoner released him, sliding back into the darkness until he would need to summon it again. There was only a smoldering anger left, but that anger was his constant companion. It had not left him for over five years.

Just as he was beginning to walk away, a voice touched his thoughts.

_It is not too late, Darth Vader._

Vader spun around to face the sound. It was An'ya Kuro's voice. The Dark Woman's body lay still, but hovering above it was a ghostly apparition with her features. It was surrounded by an eerie blue light.

Vader's lightsaber leapt to his hand once again. "What is this sorcery?" he demanded.

The Dark Woman's apparition looked straight at him, her ghostly eyes piercing through his mask. _There is still time for you – time to gain forgiveness. You know this in your heart. Obi-Wan Kenobi can still be set free._

Vader advanced menacingly towards the apparition, his voice like raging thunder.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is _dead_!"

The Dark Woman's eyes shone with some hidden power. _You know what you speak is not true. Anakin Skywalker found him within the darkness. Sabé Naberrie would not abandon him. Siri Tachi nearly brought him back._

Vader could stand this no more. The Dark Woman's words were a poison to him. Furiously, he drew back his lightsaber and slashed it across the apparition's chest. The blade passed right through.

Vader drew back in amazement as the Dark Woman began to fade, melting into the Force, never to return. Just before she vanished, her voice reached him one more time.

_It is not too late …_

Then she was gone, and Vader stood alone at the edge of the forest as the sun disappeared over the tops of the trees.

* * *

Back in his personal meditation chamber on the _Reaper_, Vader was able to remove his helmet. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of light and air on his skin. Sealed off from the rest of the galaxy, he could breathe and see as a normal human being. More importantly, it was the one place where he could truly be alone with his thoughts.

He had been extremely distracted since the end of the battle, so much so that he had neglected to punish his officers for allowing a single one-man starfighter to escape the planet, despite his orders. Most unlike him. There shouldn't be a feasible reason for this distraction, as the battle had gone exactly according to plan. The Rebels had been completely annihilated, their base had been destroyed, and most importantly, the Jedi that they had been harboring was dead by Vader's own hand. He should have been feeling satisfied, but he was not. He could not shake the final words of the Dark Woman – or her ghost – from his mind.

How dare that treacherous Jedi scum presume to know him! Even before he had joined the Sith, Vader had never been close to her. She had been an enigma, respected within the Jedi Order but simultaneously shunned for her unorthodox training methods. How she had learned about his encounters with Anakin or Sabé he did not know, but it was how she had known about Siri that truly troubled his thoughts.

Vader sighed and rested his head in his gloved hand. Even after all these years, thinking about her still hurt. Siri had been Kenobi's first love, and though their decision to hide that love rather than embrace it had forced them apart, they had still maintained a strong emotional connection. Even after Kenobi had fallen for Sabé, there was a small part of his heart that had always remained Siri's. She had used that against Vader in the Jedi Temple, grasping at that last remaining trace of her love and paralyzing him before he could strike her down.

Since that day, Vader had made it his personal mission to expunge Kenobi's weakness from his soul. He could not allow it to live on, for while it did, he was vulnerable. His worst fears had been confirmed when both Sabé and Anakin had been able to reach Kenobi on Mustafar. First, Sabé had nearly convinced him to deny his destiny and run away with her. Then when Anakin had risked his own life to save Vader's, Kenobi had struck again, compelling the Dark Lord to sacrifice himself to save his former Padawan. The result was that Vader had been weakened and forced to bind himself to these cursed machines in order to survive.

Vader, however, absolutely refused to accept his master's assertion that he would need this suit for the rest of his life. Over the past five years, Vader had begun a long series of specialized treatments designed to restore his burned and broken body. Under the supervision of the Chiss who had saved his life, Mirthrada Nuruodo, Vader was slowly, ever so slowly, creeping back towards his full functionality and strength. Already many of his worst burns had been healed by stimulating drugs and grafts of cloned skin. He had undergone extensive therapy to train his eyes to withstand unfiltered light. Nuruodo had begun to rehabilitate the Dark Lord's muscles, nerves, and even his hair follicles in the hope that one day Vader might regain some vestige of his old appearance. The treatments that the Chiss had performed were nothing short of a miracle.

But it was all for nothing without the most important adjustment. So far, Vader's lungs and internal organ systems were still too badly damaged to function without the aid of his life support suit. None of the treatments Nuruodo had designed had produced a satisfactory result so far. So at the moment, while Vader's cosmetic appearance had improved, he was still chained to his armor and mask. He was still a prisoner in his own shattered body, only capable of presenting a single face to the galaxy. That face was one which the galaxy had learned to both respect and fear.

Vader had not told Palpatine about the treatments, and he did not think that the Emperor would be pleased if he knew. Over the past five years, his relationship with his master had become … strained. Of course, Vader still followed his master's orders; their shared commitment to the health and survival of the Empire remained total and uncompromising. However, Vader was no longer above questioning Palpatine's judgment, and the Emperor no longer seemed to trust his apprentice as much as he had before.

The Emperor's fears were well-founded. More and more, Vader had begun to ponder the necessity of removing his master from the galactic throne. He had held off on this course of action for two reasons. First, Vader did not relish the idea of inciting chaos within the Empire. He did not want to rule because he craved more power; he was willing to bear the burden of governing in order to ensure that peace, justice, and order would reign in the galaxy. Deposing the Emperor would surely ignite a civil war within the Empire, and with threat of the Rebellion still present, the galaxy would tear itself to pieces. As long as Palpatine did not destabilize the Empire itself with his increasingly fanatical decrees, then Vader thought it prudent to wait until the Alliance had been dealt with before confronting his master for the throne.

The second reason was Vader's own disability. Before his duel on Mustafar, he was certain that he could have bested the Emperor. In terms of strength in the Force Vader felt he was the stronger, and once he gained enough Dark Side knowledge, he would have overthrown Palpatine with comparative ease. However, being so gravely injured had not only hampered him physically, it had reduced his connection to the Force. Palpatine now held the advantage, and while he could not destroy his apprentice without calling upon his darkest power, Vader knew that he could not defeat his master – not alone.

And so it came back to Anakin. Unlike the rest of the craven Jedi survivors who had hidden on backwater planets in the Outer Rim, Anakin had made no effort to conceal himself over the past five years. His former apprentice had single-handedly destroyed four Imperial garrisons in the past eighteen months alone, and played a substantial role in the surprise attack on the Bilbringi Shipyards.

The most interesting part was that Anakin was acting outside the Rebel's command structure, much to the chagrin of his wife, no doubt. Vader knew from the spies he had planted in the Alliance camp that Anakin's actions were a great source of trouble for them, despite their effectiveness. They wanted to be seen as pure liberators, untouched by dark dreams of vengeance. Anakin's tactics certainly ran contrary to that deluded political fabrication.

Vader had made every effort to confront Anakin over the years, but the rouge Jedi had always managed to slip away. The Dark Lord had a strong suspicion that Anakin's avoidance of him was motivated by guilt. The Chosen One couldn't face the fact that he was responsible for what Vader had become. Vader had not forgotten either, but his concerns over the survival of the Empire were more important than whether or not his feelings had been hurt by his injuries. He, after all, had been the one to let go.

Anakin could not keep running forever. Despite his efforts to hide it, Vader knew that Anakin waging a pitched battle against the darkness in his soul. He was a Jedi in name only; all other facets of his actions were worthy of a Sith. There was always his concern for his family, but Vader had not been able to track down either Padmé or Anakin's child over the years. The Emperor, who had never learned that Padmé had been pregnant, didn't think she was worth the resources to track her down. One day, Anakin and Vader would meet again, and when that happened, the Chosen One would have no choice but to accept what the Force asked of him, join the Sith, and help Vader overthrow the Emperor. It was his destiny.

The buzzing of his communicator stirred Vader out of his musings. The Dark Lord quickly replaced his helmet, hiding his face once more. Then he activated the video screen. "What is it, Captain?"

To his credit, Roswall held himself well despite his fear. A good officer, this one was. Competent. Much better than the last fool Vader had been forced to deal with. Whispers of _that_ particular dismissal still circulated throughout the Imperial Navy. Vader would have to keep Roswall's name in mind if he was ever called upon to issue a promotion.

"We're receiving a message from the Emperor, my Lord. He wants to speak to you."

Vader nodded. "Patch it through the holographic transmitter."

"At once, My Lord."

Vader opened the meditation sphere and stepped out towards the transmitter he had specified. Descending into the shallow pit, he knelt and bowed his head. _What does the decrepit old man want now?_

The holographic projector activated, and a life-sized hologram of Emperor Palpatine appeared in front of him. Vader did not look up. "What is thy bidding, My Master?"

"Your devotion pleases me, my friend," Palpatine hissed. "Tell me, was your mission a success?"

Vader looked up at him. "The Rebels were utterly destroyed. I slew the Dark Woman myself."

"Good, good," Palpatine smiled, his orange eyes glowing evilly. "Then you are free to return to my side?"

Vader's voice was emotionless. "I await only your command."

"The command is given, then. You will take the _Reaper_ and meet me in two days in the Horuz system. I will be aboard the Death Star."

Vader started slightly. "The Death Star, My Master?"

"Yes," Palpatine hissed. "Construction of the Empire's magnificent weapon is complete. The time has come to show the Rebels how truly insignificant they are."

Vader lowered his head. "I will be there, Master."

The link was terminated. Vader rose, his armored hands clenching into fists. So the Death Star was complete, several years ahead of schedule. No wonder his master was so jubilant. With such a weapon, the Rebellion would be swept away like the dust of a shattered world and the Empire would be secure. Palpatine would become the ultimate ruler and be able to enact his tyrannical will of the galaxy completely unchallenged. That was until such time as he got so deluded, so drunk on his lust for power, that those on whose shoulders he stood acted for the good of the Empire and cast him into the abyss.

Vader headed for the bridge to give Captain Roswall their destination. That time might be coming sooner that Palpatine could have ever believed.

* * *

Next chapter, what exactly Anakin has been doing these past five years is revealed, through his wife's eyes. Padme meets with the leaders of the Alliance to discuss where things stand, particularly with crucial uprisings on the Core worlds. Sabe makes an appearence, and her and Obi-Wan's son is introduced for the first time.

Anakin himself does not make an appearence in the next chapter, but Chapter 50 will be told from his perspective.


	49. An Uneasy Alliance

Yes, **The Shadow of Vader** has finally been updated!

No, this is not a hallucination!

I'll admit right now that when I said that there would be a break in between these two chapters, I had no idea that it would be this long. One thing led to another, and I got so wrapped up that I didn't even think about writing for several weeks. But now, school's out and it's time for me to honor my commitment to finish this story. Easier said than done, as we've still got a ways to go.

As is the case with any long layoff, I understand that I've probably lost some readers. While that's unfortunate, it's also perfectly understandable. As a reader, I'm certainly well acquainted with the frustration that arises when an author doesn't update a story that I'm reading for a long time. I can only hope that those of you who are still reading will continue to enjoy this story, and that new readers will come to replace those who have left.

That aside, let's move onto the next chapter. You should be pleased to note that its a long one, one of the longest I've written, in fact. I didn't plan it that way, but there was a lot to cover, and I hope it turned out well.

* * *

**Chapter 49**

"Senator Amidala!"

Padmé Amidala Skywalker did not stop. She did not turn around to see who it was that had called her. She knew the voice all too well. That voice had dominated the past three hours of her life with its incessant babbling, and the last thing that she wanted to do at the end of such a long and trying day was listen to it again. She subtly increased her walking speed and pressed on. Maybe her pursuer would take a hint.

"Senator, please! You must stop!"

It was useless. Padmé slowed her pace, coming to a halt at the start of the hallway leading to her quarters. At the far end she could just barely see the door, and a longing feeling swept over her as she thought of the hot shower and soft bed that lay just beyond that sealed entrance. Her apartment was her one remaining sanctuary, but it would no longer be a sanctuary if she allowed the man who was calling to her inside.

Closing her eyes, Padmé managed to take a deep breath and summon up the absolute last vestiges of diplomatic courtesy that she possessed. Then she turned around.

_May the Force give me patience._

"What is it, Kothla?"

Kothla Tral'fey, a de facto leader of the famous Bothan Spynet, slowed to a stop in front of Padmé, seemingly oblivious to her irritation. He was panting slightly, clearly unused to such strenuous labor as running after spending so much time behind a nice, comfortable desk. After a few seconds of recovery, he straightened up and adjusted the collar of his impeccably crisp uniform. "Senator Amidala, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."

Padmé held up a hand, halting him before he could continue. "Two things first, Kothla. One, I am no longer a Senator. I have not been a Senator since the representative assembly that I served in during the time of the Republic ceased to exist over five years ago. Two, if you must address me formally, then I would prefer that you use my proper title of Councilor. Councilor _Skywalker_."

The fur on Tral'fey's pompous, aristocratic face rippled slightly, indicating that he was unsettled. "Your name has not been officially changed, Councilor."

Of course it hadn't, Padmé thought irritably. It never ceased to amaze her that being so wrapped up in a network of politics could deprive a normally intelligent individual of their common sense. She and her husband had been on the run from the Empire for five years now, with much more pressing concerns than legal technicalities to worry about. If Anakin Skywalker was the most wanted individual in every sector of the galaxy, then Padmé herself wasn't far behind. She couldn't fly into Imperial Center and file an official report with the Galactic Tax Registrar.

"Never mind that, Kothla," she said tiredly. If the Bothan was going to be his usual obstinate self, then she didn't want this conversation to last any longer than it absolutely had to. "What do you want to discuss?"

In control of the direction of their dialogue once more, Tral'fey settled smoothly back into his pompous manner. "Your husband, Councilor."

"What about him?" There was a dangerous edge in Padmé's voice, one that warned Tral'fey not to push his point to hard. Padmé might not have been a Senator any longer, but she could still command an aura of intimidation and respect that any sensible being would not dare to cross.

The Bothan, to his credit, held his ground well. "He has done it again. Another unsanctioned attack on an Imperial garrison. This one was on Kuat, I believe. It's all over the Holonet."

"I see," Padmé said evenly. She had seen the reports, of course. A heavily guarded Imperial stronghold had been infiltrated by a covert intruder, who had proceeded to devastate the Empire's operations there. She had suspected that Anakin was involved, but the report had been inconclusive. Obviously, Tral'fey had access to intelligence that she didn't. "And your concern is?"

"My concern?" Tral'fey fumed. "Councilor, this is the fifth time that Skywalker has subverted the Alliance command structure in less than a standard year! We cannot have such flagrant insubordination become the standard for our followers. The integrity of our bureaucracy is at stake!"

Padmé had to admit that Kothla's point, though clearly tainted by personal ambitions, was legitimate. Despite every effort that she and the other Alliance leaders had made to implore him to cooperate with the command structure, Anakin continued to act under his own will alone. He made no effort to conceal his impatience with the Rebels' tactics of underhand resistance, and was even more outspoken in his disgust for the political conniving ironically carried out by individuals like Tral'fey. But while Padmé could not deny that her husband's actions undermined the leaders of the Rebellion, his true impact was far more profound. Anakin had been a hero even before the rise of the Empire, but over the past five years he had become a _legend_.

The man who many called the Chosen One had achieved a level of transcendent fame matched only by his two greatest antagonists: the Emperor and Darth Vader. News of his deeds spread like wildfire throughout the galaxy, filling the ears of the most oppressed and giving them hope. By his influence alone, covert resistance groups had sprang up on hundreds of worlds to support the Rebel Alliance.

Never could Padmé have imagined that after only five years, their message would have reached so many. By her estimates, the Alliance would have needed to remain underground for at least twenty years before they had any hope of challenging the Empire. Now, though they were still far lacking the military strength necessary to move into outright conflict, the movement to restore freedom to the galaxy had a true voice, and that voice had the power to be heard.

Anakin did not embrace his image willingly. He might have become the symbol of defiance, but that symbol had no face. Anakin avoided the spotlight whenever he could. He had refused a military commission, and almost never decided to take part in the discussions of the Alliance Council. This elusiveness lent almost a supernatural facet to his image. Like Darth Vader, he was made to appear in the eyes of the masses as more than a mortal man.

But to his loving and devoted wife, this image was nothing more than a feeble shadow, easily pushed away in the presence of her light. Beneath the frozen mask that he presented to the galaxy, Anakin was acutely human, and his burdened soul was wracked with torment. He never once spoke of it, but every time Padmé looked into his eyes she could see just how much pain he was in, and how desperately he tried to hide it from her.

It broke her heart.

"Councilor?"

Padmé suddenly remembered that Tral'fey was standing right in front of her, and she shook herself free of her thoughts. He would take her silence for weakness, and attempt to use it against her.

"I understand the point you are trying to make, Kothla," she said evenly, sliding back into her practiced and comfortable diplomatic demeanor. "Nevertheless, Anakin's initiatives have clearly strengthened the Alliance's position. I believe that he has proved that he trusted, and that we should allow him to operate in the way that he feels that he will help our cause the most."

"Councilor, with all due respect …" Tral'fey said, his tone carrying an acidic edge that was far from respectful, "your rational judgment is clearly being tainted by your affection for Skywalker. It is perfectly clear to the rest of us that the Alliance cannot survive when a rogue vigilante is encouraging our military to stray from our common purpose."

"With all due respect to _you_, Kothla," Padmé snapped, now making no effort to hide her anger, "it is clear to me that your vision of our purpose is being tainted by your ambition. And my husband is _not_ a rogue vigilante. He is a Jedi."

"_A Jedi_," Tral'fey sneered, his voice laden with scorn. "The time of the Jedi is over, Councilor. They failed in their mandate to protect the Republic, and the Emperor annihilated them. Only a few now remain in the galaxy, hiding on distant backwater worlds. If we manage to defeat the Empire and restore democracy to the galaxy, it will not be because of the Jedi and their ancient sorcery. It will only come from total unimpeded cooperation between a strong military and an effective government. Skywalker is a threat to that, not an asset."

Kothla Tral'fey might have been arrogant, ambitious, and narrow-minded, but in the heart of his scathing rebuttal there was one painful truth: the Jedi were no longer the galaxy's greatest hope of salvation. While it was true that some of the hidden Jedi had maintained contact with the Alliance, helping out on a small scale, they were simply too few to resist the might of the Sith. Palpatine and Vader would never be deposed unless everyone who resisted them stood together as one.

A true wave of weariness swept through Padmé, robbing her limbs of their strength. At times like this she truly became aware at how much the treacherous political scene had taken its toll on her. She had always tried to stay focused on the true enemy of oppression, but it always seemed like the most dangerous obstacles, the ones that derailed even the most noble-minded pursuits, were the ones who sprang from within.

"What's your objective here, Kothla?" she asked. "What do you want me to do?"

Tral'fey straightened up even higher, ignoring the fact it did nothing to change the height disparity between him and Padmé. "I want you to talk to him. You are the only one he will listen to. Try and convince him to stop these unsanctioned attacks on the Empire and invite him to coordinate with us. He _is_ an effective military leader, despite his questionable motives."

Padmé had a very good idea of what Anakin would think of the proposal. She had had this discussion with him several times, and it never ended well. All the same, she knew that Anakin was tired of carrying on the fight alone. Maybe he would be more receptive this time.

"All right," she conceded, praying silently that the Bothan would not choose to press his point further. "I'll talk with as soon as he gets back."

Kothla brushed some non-existent dust from his sleeve, seeming satisfied. "See that you do, Councilor. See that you do." He turned and began to strut away down the corridor, but stopped after a few paces and looked back at Padmé over his shoulder.

"If you need any further incentive to convince him, Councilor, then you would do well to consider that my operatives are reporting that the Empire has increased the bounty on your husband to _twenty-five million_ credits. I would like to believe that our allies are free of corruption, but the lure of such an extravagant reward might be enough to convince one or two members of the Alliance that their honor is worth the price. Good day, Councilor."

He snapped to back to his rigid posture and then marched smartly around the corner, disappearing from sight.

Padmé watched him go, then turned away and strode quickly over to the door of her apartment. Unconsciously, she typed in the entry code and stepped through the portal into her living room. After making sure that the door locked itself behind her, Padmé made directly for the center of the room and collapsed onto the blessedly soft cushions of the couch.

Immediately all tension fled from her body as she savored the simple feeling of relaxation. It was a feeling that she had not had the opportunity to indulge in for a considerable period of time. As one of the most important members of the Alliance Leadership Council, Padmé was constantly in demand. If anything, she was more overworked than she had been during her most hectic times in the Senate, because she was expected to perform the same amount of work with far less extensive resources at her disposal. Yet Padmé managed to perform her duties in an exemplary manner because she attacked her work with a fiery determination that set the standard for all of her peers. She had to; with every decision that she made lives hung in the balance, and she was terrified of what would happen to those lives if she should falter.

However, she had to acknowledge her own limitations, and she certainly couldn't say that she didn't enjoy taking in a moment free of responsibility. Padmé closed her eyes, reveling in the softness, the warmth, and the blessed silence.

It couldn't last long. At any moment her comlink might ring and she would be called upon to resolve one crisis or another. A large part of her wanted to disconnect the system so that she could get a full night's sleep, but she had to be available if a real emergency arose. Besides, Anakin might try to call her.

Padmé's thoughts began to drift of towards her husband. To her great shame, she had no idea where he was. Somehow he had managed to leave the base without telling her where he was going. Tral'fey had claimed that Anakin had infiltrated an Imperial garrison on Kuat, but with his mission complete, he wouldn't have lingered.

It was unlikely that he had been captured: given all the trouble that Anakin had caused the Empire, Padmé suspected that the news would have been on the Holonet seconds after Anakin was taken into custody. But even if Anakin was alive and free, that didn't mean he wasn't in danger, and it certainly didn't mean that Padmé was going to able to keep from worrying herself sick. There had been too many close calls over the years for her to take anything concerning Anakin for granted.

She wouldn't say that the war had weakened their relationship – their love for one another ran as deep as ever. However, the eight straight years of instability in the galaxy that had unfortunately coincided with their eight years of marriage had strained their ability to trust anyone, even each other. Padmé was ashamed to admit that for the first time since they had begun their life together, she was keeping things from Anakin, and she was almost certain that he was hiding things from her as well.

Though she certainly didn't need the additional stress, Padmé had spent a great deal of her free time wrestling with her thoughts, trying to figure out what exactly it was that had caused Anakin to become so distant. The question was complex, with many facets that she could not fully understand.

She knew, to her regret, that part of the answer had to do with her; Anakin would never be perfectly content as long as he believed that her health or her happiness was at risk. Undoubtedly, he was also struggling with the burden that the Jedi had placed upon him as the Chosen One. After all these years he still didn't understand what his destiny meant for him, and that uncertainty tore at him painfully. Though Mace had been dead for five years and Yoda was in exile on some unknown world, their words still hung heavily over Anakin, affecting his thoughts and his judgment.

But she was skirting the real reason, partly because she could not understand its true significance, and partly because it was simply too painful. Vader.

No matter where they started, it always came back to Vader.

Anakin had never told her exactly what had happened on Mustafar. At the time she had still been weak from the ordeal with Asajj Ventress, and most of her memories of that time were a blur. The memory that she still retained was painful: Anakin and his former master facing off across the landing pad, with sheer hatred emanating from her husband. Fearing that her worse nightmare had come true, that Anakin had surrendered to the darkness that hunted his soul, she had collapsed – and unwittingly sparked a duel. When she finally awoke in the medical wing of Polis Massa, Anakin had been by her side, and all traces of darkness seemed to have left him. She had given no thought to what had transpired while she had hung on the verge of death.

Now she knew. The duel had left Vader crippled, too scarred and disfigured to function as a normal human being. The fearsome mask and suit he now wore were more than a symbol to inspire terror in those he conquered; they were all that tied him to the realm of the living. Any trace of the man she had once been proud to call her friend had been left in ashes on that hellish world, leaving only a ruthless tyrant bent on the subjugation of an entire galaxy.

It twisted her heart painfully to see how far Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen. The only thing that made it worse was that Anakin blamed himself.

She could see all the signs – the sharp pain that flashed across his eyes every time Vader's name was mentioned, the way he walked as though he carried the weight of a great guilt on his shoulders. When she held him, she would sometimes feel him tense, and she knew that he had suddenly been stricken by some invisible demon from the past. He knew as well as Padmé did that his guilt was irrational, that Obi-Wan had chosen to walk this path which had brought them all so much suffering. Nevertheless, all the rationality he possessed was not enough to free Anakin from the belief that he had killed his best friend.

Padmé sighed. She should stop trying to explain this. She was exhausting herself further, and there were still things to do before she could fully rest. She needed to shower, get changed, check her personal datapad for any new messages, and then review the late news bulletin before she turned in. It was all a routine. She could handle it …

_Just five more minutes_ … a voice in the back of her mind begged her. _Just five more minutes of nothing …_

Padmé adjusted the pillow a little more comfortably on the armrest and leaned back once more. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt.

Five minutes later, Padmé Amidala Skywalker was out like a light, her breast rising and falling softly as she slept.

* * *

The next morning Padmé walked into the conference center on the Assault Frigate _Liberty_, which served as the temporary headquarters for the Alliance, and was greeted by a low murmur of conversation. The other members of the Leadership Council and various military commanders were huddled in conference, whispering in an urgent manner.

From what she could hear, their tone sounded very grim. Bad news was nothing new – with the Empire so intent on their destruction, the Rebels had been forced to endure some incredibly tight situations. Somehow they had managed to both survive and advance their cause. Lately, however, the noose had been tightened and even the strongest and most dedicated Rebels had started to gasp for air. If the most recent intelligence reports were anything to go by, then their freedom to maneuver was about to decrease even further.

"Attention, please!" Padmé raised her voice so that it would carry over the noise. "We're ready to start the meeting."

The murmuring instantly quieted. Padmé might not have been the official head of the Leadership Council – that distinction belonged to Bail Organa - but she had more political experience than anyone present and commanded the respect of everyone she worked with. The delegates took their seats in a semicircle around the room, while Padmé took up the place at the speaker's podium. Normally she would have been seated in the chair to her right while Bail led the meeting, but her old friend was not there at the moment. As the head of the Organa family, he had to worry about Alderaanian affairs and also take care to deflect the suspicions of the Empire that he was involved with the Alliance.

"Members of the Alliance," Padmé said calmly once everyone was settled, "we are here to discuss where we stand in our cause to restore freedom to our galaxy. As you all know, events are taking place right now that will ultimately decide the outcome of the struggle between the us and the Empire. How we respond to those events will decide that outcome. Therefore, we must be not only swift but wise in how we plan our course of action." She consulted her schedule. "Our first order of business will be from Intelligence, as I understand that they have specific information that will help to alleviate our confusion about what exactly is happening on the battlefront. Presenting this report will be Councilor Jostain."

She stepped away from the podium and took up a place a short distance away from the holoprojector. To her surprise, however, it was not Councilor Jostain who rose up out of his seat and took the podium – it was Kothla Tral'fey. The Bothan appeared to assume the center of attention with a grave look that carried the weight of responsibility, but Padmé could read in his smallest gestures that he was barely managing to conceal his self-satisfaction. He flourished his notes in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion and cleared his throat. "My friends and esteemed colleagues …"

Padmé cut him off. "If I may ask, Kothla, where is Councilor Jostain?"

The Bothan's gaze brushed over her in a condescending manner. "Councilor Jostain is occupied. Certain aspects of gathering intelligence are too delicate to be interrupted, even for something as crucial as this meeting. As his chosen deputy, his duties fall to me."

Padmé knew Councilor Jostain well enough to know that he was not the type to miss a Council meeting without notifying her or Bail in advance, and she doubted that he would have chosen Kothla as his deputy. However, she didn't want to waste time interrogating Kothla about how he had managed to get this situation to work in his favor. She would confront him later.

The Bothan smoothed his fur and continued as if there had been no interruption. "My esteemed friends and colleagues, I come bearing serious and potentially devastating news. You have all heard that we have experienced a loss in the Outer Rim, but none of you know precisely where this loss has occurred. My associates in the Bothan Spynet have courageously managed to evade capture by the Empire and deliver this news to us. Their actions may save us another serious setback."

Padmé managed to conceal both her impatience and her annoyance. She had known that Kothla would make it a point to tout his organization's indispensability, but she hadn't anticipated he would be so flagrantly dramatic. His grandstanding was wasting valuable time, and lost time would ultimately mean lost lives.

"Get to the point, Kothla," she said in what she hoped was a civil tone.

Though Kothla did not acknowledge her verbally, his fur rippled in annoyance. Nevertheless, he did respond by cutting to the point. "The Empire has destroyed our base on Coprighin 5."

A collective surprised gasp went up from the Council and assembled commanders. Padmé herself was stunned. The base on Cophrigin 5 had been one of the Alliance's most important strongholds. Not only did it allow for easy access to hyperspace lanes necessary for navigating the Outer Rim, but it was hidden in a very secure system. It should have been nearly impossible for the Empire to even learn of its existence, let alone assault it with a sufficient force to destroy it. This was the most serious news that they had received in a considerable period of time.

"Unfortunately, Councilors, that is not the most disturbing part of this story," Kothla announced. The muttering died down as everyone watched the Bothan raptly. When Kothla spoke again, his voice was completely serious. "Our intelligence confirms that Darth Vader lead the attack himself."

The silence that followed carried more weight than the whispers would have. Merely uttering the name of the Dark Lord of the Sith seemed to invoke the full semblance of his terrible dark power. Even Padmé, who knew the true story of the man behind the mask, found herself taken in for a moment by the mystique of the Emperor's most trusted servant. If Vader was personally overseeing an assault on one of their bases, it spoke volumes as to how committed he was to the total destruction of the Alliance.

"Can we be certain of this?" The words came from Garm Bel Iblis, a former colleague of Padmé's in the Republic Senate, where he had represented Corellia. Following the capture and presumed death of Mon Mothma, Bel Iblis had taken on much of the burden of shaping the Alliance shared by Bail and Padmé. He was a skilled military tactician, and also held a command in the Alliance military. Having suffered many close personal losses at the hands of the Emperors's agents, Bel Iblis was by far the most aggressive of the Council members, favoring direct strikes at the Empire. This meant that he was often at odds with Padmé and Bail, who nonetheless respected him immensely. Not surprisingly, his activism meant that he was one of the few Alliance leaders whom Anakin would actually listen to – when it suited him.

"We can indeed be certain of it," Tral'fey said confidently. "In addition to their credible and detailed reports, my loyal operatives of the Bothan Spynet picked up two young communications officers from the base adrift in the nebula. They claim to be the only survivors of the massacre conducted by the Dark Lord and his associates."

Padmé's interest level shot up another level. "Are these witnesses available to give their report to the Council?"

"Councilor, I believe that my testimony has conveyed all pertinent information relating to their ordeal …" Tral'fey sniffed, clearly unwilling to relinquish his moment in the spotlight.

Padmé immediately shot him a glare that could pierce durasteel, and he appeared to acknowledge defeat. "However, I believe that they can be summoned momentarily, if that is the will of the Council."

"That _is_ the will of the Council," Padmé said in a sweet tone that nevertheless held a cutting edge. "Would you be so kind as to call them?"

"Of course, Councilor." Tral'fey stepped down from the platform, shooting Padmé an angry look as he did so. Padmé was unmoved; she was not about to tolerate any of the Bothan's sulking after the manner in which he had addressed her last night. Tral'fey pulled out his comlink and issued a terse order to the person on the other end of the line.

A few moments later the door to the conference room opened, and a young man in his with wavy brown hair and a rumpled uniform entered. He was in his early twenties, and though he walked towards his appointed chair with a confident grin and a swagger, his eyes revealed how nervous he felt standing before so many high-ranking officials and commanders. He was followed by a very attractive young woman about his age, with shoulder-length blond hair and eyes. She too looked nervous, and Padmé gave her an encouraging smile before motioning for the two of them to sit. They did, and the young man immediately began shifting around surreptitiously. Apparently he was more comfortable when he was in motion, a feeling to which Padmé could relate.

"Well, it's good to see that at least some of our personnel were able to escape safely," she addressed them, hoping that they would recognize her friendly tone and relax a little. "And your names are …?"

"Jax," the young man said quickly. His accent was immediately noticeable – Corellian, she believed. "I mean … Lieutenant Jax Bronson, pilot in the 3rd division of Red Squadron …"

"That's fine, Jax, I didn't ask for your rank," Padmé said calmly. Jax quickly closed his mouth and ran his right hand through his hair, messing it up conspicuously. His companion sighed and rolled her eyes in a way that suggested she was both irritated and amused by Jax's plight. Padmé turned her attention towards her. "What is your name, Miss?"

"Natrina Tarvas," the girl answered. "I was a communications officer at the base."

"Very good," Padmé said. "Now, could you please tell us briefly what happened when the Empire attacked our base on Coprighin 5?"

That got both of their attention. Natrina sat bolt upright in her chair, and Jax quickly abandoned his efforts to smooth down his rumpled hair. Clearly, the memory remained acute in both of their minds.

"They came out of nowhere," Natrina began, "We were doing routine surveillance when this huge Star Destroyer, bigger than any I'd ever seen, emerged from the asteroid field. They had accelerated to full attack speed while they were masked from our sensors, and they were bearing right down on us. There was no time to launch fighter squadrons. Drop ships were in the atmosphere in less than thirty seconds."

Padmé listened grimly. Such precision, combined with the element of ruthless surprise, certainly supported Vader's involvement.

"It was no contest," Jax broke in. "They had us outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered. Half our forces were down before we could even mobilize. We held them off as long as we could, but eventually Commander Calton gave the order to pull back so that we might have a chance to break through the line cutting us off from the evacuation transports. He stayed behind though. He sacrificed himself so that we could escape."

Jax's voice cracked slightly as he fought down the anger and the sorrow that had risen to his face. Natrina, battling her own grief, reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The gesture seemed to give Jax the strength to continue.

"We headed for the nearest exit, thinking we might be able to sneak through while they were securing the base. Instead, we round a corner and run right into Darth Vader himself, angry and ready to kill."

So it was true. Vader had not only led the attack on Coprighin 5, he had taken part in the ground assault. Amidst the renewed whispering that had broken out, Padmé found herself contemplating why the Dark Lord had decided to risk himself on this particular mission. He had led ground assaults before, but never on such a remote world.

The whispers quieted as Jan Dodanna, one of the Alliance's most respected military leaders, addressed Jax directly. Well-known for his ability as a tactician and an honorable warrior, Dodanna was one of several former Imperials who had abandoned the Empire after refusing to conform to its ideology. He had initially attempted to stay out of the blossoming war entirely, but after the Empire had attempted to murder him and his son for his apparent insurrection, he had approached Padmé and Bail about joining the Alliance. They had been only too happy to accept his services.

"So how did you escape? Not many enemies of the Empire can say that they came face to face with Darth Vader and lived to tell the tale."

"Someone intervened," Jax said, his voice becoming distant as he forced himself to relieve his near-death experience. "There was a woman who lived in the forest surrounding the base. Her name was An'ya Kuro … or at least that's what she said it was. I had always thought that she was just some reclusive healer, but it turns out she was actually an exiled Jedi."

The whispers immediately erupted again, and this time it seemed that they would not be quelled. Padmé managed to bury her considerable surprise and cast a quick glance around at her colleagues' faces. Bel Iblis appeared dumbfounded and Dodanna seemed pensive, but Kothla Tral'fey's normally composed face had morphed into a mask of pure hostility. It was plain to see that the last thing he had wanted was for the Jedi to become a topic of conversation when he so adamantly believed that their time had ended long ago.

"Quiet!" Padmé snapped angrily. "All of you!"

To her surprise, they listened to her – most of them, at any rate. There was some barely audible muttering continuing near the back of the room, but it quickly died out when Padmé glared icily in the direction of the perpetrators. Satisfied that the disruption was settled, Padmé turned her attention back to Jax and Natrina and gave them the warmest smile she could, hoping that it would help to alleviate the pressure that they were obviously feeling. "Please excuse the interruption. Continue where you left off."

Jax nodded, sending a loose lock of hair falling over his forehead. "The moment she showed up, Vader forgot all about us. He threatened her, called her a traitor, and then charged. She pulled out her own laser sword to defend herself, and Vader drove her back around the corner. That's when Natrina and I decided to head for the starfighter bay and make good on our escape."

"I see," Padmé nodded. "If I may stray into the realm of conjecture for a moment, what do you believe happened to An'ya Kuro?"

"Vader killed her," Natrina said, her voice shaking slightly for the first time. "There's no way that she could have held up against him for more than a few minutes. Not with the way he was attacking her."

Jax reached out, took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Natrina, blinking back tears, smiled at him gratefully. It wasn't hard to notice the spark that passed between them, and Padmé's heart went out to this young couple who had suffered such heavy losses in such a short time.

"You are both to be commended," she told them. "Return to your quarters and get some rest. The Alliance will need you and your courage very soon."

Jax and Natrina nodded gratefully towards Padmé, then stood up and made their way towards the door. Jax saluted the generals rather more theatrically than was necessary, and Natrina rebuked him fondly as they left the room.

The moment the two young Rebels were out of sight, Tral'fey rounded on the Council, the hostility on his face giving way to open anger.

"What have I been telling you all?" he hissed, his violet eyes flashing angrily. "There was a Jedi within a kilometer of the base at the moment the Empire attacked, and what did she do? She skulked in the woods like a coward until the moment was right for her to pursue her own agenda!"

Padmé faced the furious Bothan, realizing that there was no point in trying to avert this argument. Bothans did not often lose their temper, but when they did, they would stop at nothing to raise absolute hell.

"The Jedi in question gave her life to save two of our young charges," she said. "We should be honoring that sacrifice, not slandering her memory."

"She could have saved more lives had she intervened earlier!" Tral'fey hissed. "While dozens of young men and women were dying, she chose to hide until she could be assured that she would go out in a blaze of glory against a Sith Lord! She was motivated only by egregious self-interest, just like the rest of her damnable colleagues …"

"Be reasonable, Kothla!" Bel Iblis interjected. "This was an all-out Imperial offensive. There was nothing more she could have done."

"Indeed," Dodanna added. "You're generalizing, Kothla. Even if she did have another agenda for waiting to confront Vader …"

"They _all_ had another agenda," Tral'fey sneered, seeming not to care that he had just cut off the highest ranking Alliance commander in the middle of his sentence. "It's been proved! Councilor Skywalker's own husband, a former member of that contemptible organization, admits that it was the corrupt nature of the Jedi Council that allowed the Emperor to make his final bid for power!"

"Do _not_ twist my husband's words to suit your purpose, Kothla!" Padmé snapped furiously. All the frustration she had suffered as a result of the Bothan's scheming over the past twelve hours was finally boiling over, and she felt no desire to stop it. "I will not sit here and listen to you vent your hatred for the Jedi. There are many issues to address that are much more important than your personal animosity. If you have a legitimate concern that absolutely cannot wait, then you will step into the hall with me so that we can address it directly. If not, then you will stop wasting this council's precious time."

For a moment she was certain that Tral'fey was going to take her up on her challenge and demand that they step into the hall alone. However, despite the rage that was still simmering in Tral'fey's eyes, he seemed to be coming to the realization that he had more to lose than to gain in this battle. Padmé was the one of the most respected members of the Alliance, and the majority of the Council strongly supported her. Kothla would lose serious favor if he challenged Padmé on such a volatile issue and failed. Slowly, bitterly, the Bothan sank back into his seat, his eyes never leaving Padmé's face.

"As you wish … _Councilor_."

Padmé kept her steely glare focused on Tral'fey, refusing to blink until he turned away. Once he did, she returned to the podium and looked out at her colleagues. They were disjointed and confused, and that was a weakness they could not afford right now – not when the Empire was so bent on their destruction. Padmé needed to bring their focus back to their mission, the one true ideal to which all of these diverse people were committed.

"Friends, I know what is troubling you," she said slowly, giving careful weight to every word. "The same fear haunts my sleep at night, and keeps me constantly looking over my shoulder. That fear looks out at us from dark corners, waiting for the chance to drag us into its embrace and choke off our hope. We fear that despite everything that we have done, despite all that we have sacrificed, our best efforts will not be enough. We fear that one night the Empire will find us, drag us out of our beds and silence us forever. We fear that our children will be forced to live in a galaxy where they cannot speak their mind without being oppressed. Our fear is well-founded. The forces that we are up against represent the greatest trial that any of us will likely ever face, and there is a very real chance that we will fall trying to overcome them. But despite these forces, and despite our fear, we must not surrender what hope we have. We must not turn against ourselves simply because it is easier to fight than to achieve true cooperation. Our best chance at rising above the forces that we face is to stand together. If the enemy senses that the bonds of trust that hold us together are weakening, they will seek to exploit it. Therefore, I ask you … I _beg_ you … not to give them this opportunity. Put aside your differences. Work together, whatever reservations you may have. If you can do that, then we can make it through the darkest of times.

"We have recently suffered some setbacks, but we must not forget that we have also made incredible progress. I would never have dared to hope that we could be so far along after such a short time. The message of freedom has spread all across the galaxy, from the Outer Rim to Coruscant itself. Every day thousands of people stand up and raise their hearts against cruelty and oppression. They have the desire, but they need direction and leadership. They look to us to lead them, and lead them we will.

"The Empire is strong, the forces of oppression are strong, but our will and the impulse of freedom are stronger. They will not be contained, and we will not give in. Like a rising tide, we will build ourselves up until we are great enough to crash into the wall that holds us back and shatter it, sweeping it away into nothing. Then, and only then, will we settle down and return to that which we know and love: peace. Be patient, I implore you. Put aside your own ambitions and devote yourself to the common good. If you can do that … and I know that you can … then I promise you, we will prevail."

* * *

It was late when Padmé finally adjourned the meeting. The corridors of the _Liberty_, which were normally bustling with activity around the clock, were remarkably silent. Only the occasional low-level petty officer crossed her path as she wove her way through the twisting passageways back to her quarters.

_It must be dinnertime_, Padmé though distractedly. All the pilots and technicians were probably down in the mess hall, laughing and joking as they swapped stories and debated the decisions of their leaders. The leaders themselves, meanwhile, would retire to their quarters with a mound of reports and eat cold synth-food as they worked long into the night. Padmé ignored the longing pang that rose up from her stomach. When mess hall food started to sound good, you knew things were bad.

Padmé knew that if she wanted to, she could cook herself a relatively good meal. She had begun to hone her skills over the past few years, for those rare occasions when she and Anakin were able to sit down and eat together. Her mother would be over the moon if she knew that Padmé was beginning to take an interest in the culinary craft, which she had been trying to force upon her for years. Unfortunately, Padmé had not seen her mother or her father in over five years. Neither had she seen her sister and her brother-in-law, nor her two wonderful nieces, Ryoo and Pooja. She had not been back to Naboo since the middle of the Clone Wars, and that had only been for a few days on business. It was then that had told Sola about her relationship with Anakin, although she had made her sister swear not to tell a soul. She had not told her that she and Anakin were married. None of her family knew. It was a necessary precaution – they would be in great danger if they knew – but it was also cruel. The only thing that was worse was that her family did not know about her children.

Her children. Luke and Leia, her and Anakin's two beautiful children.

Padmé closed her stunning brown eyes tightly, using all her amazing resolve to hold back tears. By the Force, no pain she had ever known could compare to being separated from her children. Their fifth life day had just come a few days ago, and she had been unable to tear themselves away from her duties to go visit them. It was a lost opportunity that tore at her heart like a burning knife. Five years, and she had only seen her children three times following their birth: on their first, second, and third life day. Each time, Bail had taken Leia, flown to Tatooine to get Luke, and then met Anakin and Padmé at a predetermined location. The two overjoyed parents had spent the day holding onto their children for dear life, cherishing every moment that they were able to spend as a family. But it could not last. After several blissful hours, Bail would collect the twins and fly them back to their safe havens, leaving their broken-hearted mother and father behind. Each time, Padmé tried to comfort herself by telling herself that making such a monumental sacrifice was very likely keeping Luke and Leia alive. The rationalization sounded more and more hollow every year.

Then, last year, they had received a tip-off that an Imperial agent was tracking their movements. On Bail's advice, they had called off the meeting at the last minute. Anguished that she could not see her children, but unwilling to do anything that would compromise their safety, Padmé had withdrawn into herself, bottling up her emotions and likely doing herself serious emotional damage. Though the threat eventually passed, the ominous sense of danger had remained, and it had been decided to postpone all future visits until they could be certain the Empire was not lying in ambush.

Padmé opened her eyes and took a deep breath, hastily wiping away the wetness that had gathered on her lashes with the back of her hand. She couldn't keep doing this; she had enough to worry about without adding another serious burden to her already weighted soul. She turned the final corner towards her quarters, hoping that she could just make it there before the relentless wave of longing threatened to crush her again. She had not gone two steps, however, before something came barreling towards her and hit her hard in the legs, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"Aunt Padmé!"

Despite the shock of the unexpected assault and the surprising strong embrace that had tied up her legs, Padmé did not fall. Nor did she shout as she dropped the reports she was carrying and grabbed onto the walls to steady herself. On the contrary, a genuine laugh escaped her lips. While still holding onto the wall, she pushed a few loose strands of hair back from her face and looked down into the face of four-year old Jadon Kenobi.

"Hello there, handsome boy!" she grinned, reaching down to ruffle the young boy's wavy brown hair. "How are you today?"

Jadon, still clutching Padmé's legs, turned his round face up towards her. "Aunt Padmé, I haven't seen you in forev'!"

"Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Padmé admitted. "What do you say to letting go of my legs so that I can give you a proper hug?"

Jadon obliged, and Padmé immediately reached down to scoop him into her arms. Jadon giggled as he was lifted into the air, and wrapped his arms tightly about Padmé's neck. Padmé held onto him with one arm, using her free hand to smooth down Jadon's hair. He was much heavier than she remembered, but that extra weight might as well have been nonexistent, for holding this beautiful young child in her arms was no burden at all.

She pulled back her head slightly so that she could examine Jadon. The young boy had dark brown hair that framed his face like a mane. That face was soft, with high cheek bones, but underneath the skin was a strong bone structure. Jadon had his mother's nose and more noticeably, her brilliant smile – minus one or two teeth, of course. However, by far his most striking feature was his sharp, piercing blue-grey eyes – eyes that seemed to carry wisdom beyond their years. Those eyes were identical to those of a man Padmé had counted as a dear friend, and they carried within their depths the legacy of the father Jadon had never known.

"You're getting so big!" she exclaimed. "Pretty soon, you're going to be picking me up!"

Jadon giggled again. "Aunt Padmé, don't be silly! I's just a little boy!"

_Aunt Padmé_. Jadon had called her that since he had first learned to speak. While Padmé was not Jadon's biological aunt, she had never discouraged him from using the title. In a way, a very small way, being recognized as an aunt helped her to cope with the fact that she could not be a mother to her own children.

"Where's your mother, Jadon?" she asked, nuzzling her forehead against the boy's. "How is she? Is she around?"

An amused voice from behind her caught Padmé's attention. "Yes she is, Padmé, and she's doing quite well, thank you for asking."

Padmé, still holding Jadon, turned around to see Sabé Naberrie standing in the open doorway to her apartment, arms crossed on her breast and a genuine smile on her face as she looked out at her son and the woman who as close to her as any sister could ever be.

Like Padmé, Sabé bore the telltale sign of five years of galactic conflict. Her face was slightly more worn and her deep brown eyes carried the pain of loss, both distant and personal. Her shoulders were slightly more bowed, as if they carried a great weight of responsibility. Nevertheless, she remained as radiantly beautiful as ever, with a smile that could outshine any light in the room.

Reluctantly, Padmé set Jadon down and gently nudged him towards Sabé. "Come on, Jadon. Go to your mother now."

Jadon obediently trotted over to Sabé and took her hand. Sabé smiled lovingly down at her son, and then turned up her head to look at Padmé. "How was the Council meeting?"

Padmé sighed. "Disheartening. More bad news, more squabbling, more bad feelings."

Sabé raised an eyebrow. "A typical day, then?"

Padmé's lips quirked upwards slightly into a half-smile. "Yes, a typical day."

"Well, I'm sure that some good came of it," Sabé said tiredly. "The intelligence briefing didn't go well. All we did was talk about the Leader."

_The Leader_.

Those were the last words Padmé had needed to hear.

Out of all the complex issues that she was forced to confront every day, none of them, not even her husband's agitations, could come close to matching the controversy brought on by the Leader. For while the decisive majority of her friends and colleagues supported Anakin despite his rouge tendencies, the Council and the entire Alliance were decisively split on where the Leader stood on the political scene. While it was clear that he was an enemy of the Emperor, he did not particularly seem to be a friend to the Alliance. All efforts to contact the rouge commander and his organization had failed.

About three years ago, a shadowy figure known only as 'The Leader' had emerged from the dark slums of Coruscant's underworld and begun to amass a devoted group of followers sworn to oppose the Empire. At the time, no one, not even the ever-vigilant members of Imperial Security had thought of the development as a threat. Resistance organizations, often with Alliance backing, sprang up so frequently that it was seldom considered significant. The Empire would watch them for a while, waiting until they believed that they had all important figures ensnared, and then strike with ruthless intent. The leaders would be identified, interrogated, and then executed. The rest would be imprisoned or punished so severely that they would never risk rebelling again. After many failures, the Alliance had abandoned efforts to infiltrate Imperial Center. The Council believed that their interests would be better served by strengthening their position elsewhere, rather than trying to climb into the heart of the dragon's den.

But the Leader had not been subdued. Time and time again he had eluded Imperial authorities, drawing back into the dark labyrinth beneath the surface before emerging again, stronger than ever. His followers grew exponentially, eventually spreading across the entire capital. In response, the Emperor had publicly declared all-out war on the Leader and his followers – a distinction he had even refused to grant to the Alliance. Even suspicion of involvement with the Leader was grounds for arrest, interrogation, and execution. Thousands of people had been brutally purged in this manner – but so far not one of them had yielded up the identity of their master.

Despite the fact that the Leader was the second-most wanted individual in the galaxy (after a certain infamous Jedi), he was not a public figure. This was his most polarizing aspect - unlike the Emperor or the leaders of the Alliance, he had no discernable identity. No one outside of his fanatical and tightly-controlled organization knew who he was, where he came from, or what he looked like. In fact, they could not be certain if the lord of Coruscant's underworld was even a 'he'. It could just as easily be a woman. Without a face or a voice to put to the name, it was impossible to identify the Leader's true motivation in resisting the Empire. While some claimed that he was a freedom fighter who wanted to restore the Republic, a far greater number believed that he was merely a vigilante, waging a personal war against his enemies for selfish reasons. A few even suspected that he only hoped to bring down the Emperor so that he could take his place and set himself upon the galactic throne.

All things considered, Padmé did not know what to make of this mysterious slum lord or his fanatical, patchwork army. It was her general belief that any enemy of her enemy was her friend, but she could not help but think that if the Leader were truly interested in upholding their cause, he would have responded to their efforts to communicate with him by now. The Empire, most likely in an effort to dissuade more citizens from joining up with the movement, had been asserting that the Leader was in fact a ruthless drug king affiliated with Black Sun, who was hoping to turn the capital into the criminal stronghold. Perhaps there was a hint of truth in such outlandish propaganda after all.

In any event, she had more pressing concerns to worry about. As long as the Leader continued to remain isolated on Coruscant, there was little he could do for her, or she for him. The idea of the Alliance staging an assault on Imperial Center when it was struggling just to hold onto what worlds it had gained was ludicrous, though the thought had crossed her mind …

"Padmé, you look exhausted," Sabé proclaimed, interrupting her train of thought. "Come on, let's go inside."

She took her friend's arm and began to guide her back towards the former Senator's quarters. Padmé allowed herself to be guided, stopping only to pick up the reports she had dropped when Jadon rushed her. Sabé opened the door (Padmé didn't know how, she couldn't remember giving Sabé her new entry code), and led her son and her friend into the living room.

Padmé quickly sank into the sofa, and Sabé sat down next to her. Jadon took advantage of the moment to hop into his mother's lap. Sabé, wrapping her arm around her son, fixed Padmé with a no-nonsense stare. "Are you all right?"

Padmé rubbed her face, shaking off the drowsiness that threatened to overcome her. "I'm fine. It's just stressful, taking on all the administrative work while Bail's off on Alderaan."

"I'm sure it is," Sabé said bracingly. "But you're doing a great job. Without you, the Alliance would probably be falling apart."

Padmé smirked slightly, a remarkably callous expression for her. "How do you know that it hasn't fallen apart already?"

"Padmé," Sabé said sternly, "Don't say things like that."

"You're right," Padmé sighed, admonishing herself silently for her pessimism. "I just feel like I've been slipping lately. I've been letting things get to me."

"You don't show it," Sabé told her. "I'm hearing from the commanders that you gave one hell of a speech to the Council. Everyone's talking about it."

"Are they?" Padmé was surprised. She had only spoken out of necessity; she certainly hadn't considered her words to be that memorable. "I can think of a dozen better speeches that I've given."

"Then that's thirteen more than I'll ever give," Sabé smiled. "You have a gift, Padmé, a real ability to inspire others to action. You shouldn't demean it."

"Thank you, Sabé," Padmé told her, squeezing her friend's hand gratefully. "But I could use a little inspiration myself right now. I'm angry, I'm confused, I'm worried absolutely sick …"

Sabé's voice filled with a quiet understanding. "Have you heard from Anakin recently?"

Padmé slumped back into the couch, the aching loneliness filling her heart once more.

"No."

Jadon, who had been sitting very quietly on Sabé's lap, suddenly perked up. "Uncle Ani? Uncle Ani's coming?"

"We didn't say that," Sabé told her son, smoothing his hair to calm him down. "But don't worry, you'll see him soon."

But Jadon would not been calmed. He leapt off of Sabé's lap and began to run around the room, jumping as high as his short legs would allow. "Uncle Ani's coming! That's wizard, totally wizard! He promised me I could ride in his spaceship!"

Sabé, abandoning her effort to soothe the excitable boy, turned a knowing stare towards Padmé. "He seems to have picked up some of your husband's expressions."

He had picked up more than that, Padmé thought. The boy absolutely idolized Anakin. He would tail him for hours, copying his every move and repeating Anakin's sentences. It eventually got quite annoying, but her husband never seemed to mind. Anakin clearly loved Jadon and seemed to spend every free moment he could with the boy, talking, playing, or showing him tricks. However, no matter how much he tried to hide it, Padmé could see the pain and the guilt that frequently flashed into his eyes as he entertained the boy. She knew instinctively that while it was compounded by separation from his own son and daughter, the true source of that pain had even deeper roots. Jadon reminded Anakin acutely of Obi-Wan, and every time he looked at the boy he became painfully aware that it was partly his fault the boy was growing up without a father.

Jadon was strong in the Force – even Padmé could see that. If he received the proper training, he would grow up to be a powerful Jedi. Unfortunately, that potential put him in serious danger. Once they had learned that Sabé was pregnant with Obi-Wan's child, Bail had suggested that after the birth Jadon be taken away and hidden on a safe world, just like Luke and Leia had been. Sabé had absolutely refused to allow it. Throughout a series of raging debates, she had not budged a centimeter, flatly asserting that they would have to kill her before she let them take her child away. Her rationalization was that unlike the twins, no one, not even Darth Vader himself, knew of Jadon's existence. While this claim was in fact true, Padmé knew that the real muscle in Sabé's refusal came from the fact that she simply could not bear to be parted from her son, the only trace left of the man she loved.

Sabé never spoke of Obi-Wan, but Padmé knew that she thought about him constantly. It was impossible not too; every time they turned on the holonews, Darth Vader was there, his ominous black mask glaring out at the galaxy as one reporter after another droned on about how the revered Dark Lord of the Sith had subdued yet another uprising. The pain had to be intolerable, but Sabé, strong as she was, never let it show.

There was an awkward lull in the conversation. To break the silence, Padmé spoke out with more confidence than she felt.

"It will all turn out all right. Anakin will be back soon. And once Bail returns, managing the Council should be easier."

To her surprise, Sabé smiled. "Yes, I talked to Bail just a few hours ago. He said he would be back very soon. He also said that he's not coming alone."

Padmé sat up, confusion stealing into her mind. "What? Is he bringing Breha with him? I thought …"

"No, he's not bringing Breha," Sabé told her. "He had to make a special trip. To Tatooine, I believe it was."

"Tatooine?" Padmé was now even more confused. "Why does he …?"

It hit her like a thunderbolt, and Padmé immediately sprang to her feet, looking at Sabé in awe. "Please, Sabé, tell me this is not a dream!"

Sabé grinned. "No dream, Padmé. Surely you haven't forgotten that it was Luke and Leia's fifth life day just a few days ago?"

"Of course I didn't forget!" Padmé exclaimed. "I just can't believe it! Luke and Leia … my babies … they're actually coming?!"

"Yes. Bail made some careful considerations, and he firmly believes that it's safe enough to bring them for a visit."

Padmé flung herself into her friend's arms, clutching Sabé to her tightly. "Oh, Sabé, thank you! Thank you! You have no idea what this …"

"What this means to you?" Sabé asked, her eyes welling up with pride as she looked over Padmé's shoulder at her son, who had stopped bouncing around the room, if only for a moment. "No, I think I understand perfectly."

Padmé broke away from Sabé and began to pace frantically. "There's so much to do! I have to fix up their room, I have to get a new bed … do you think that Luke would like blue sheets or …"

"Padmé," Sabé said bracingly. "I think that the first thing that you need to do is get a good night's sleep. Otherwise, you'll be too exhausted to spend any time with them."

_Not a chance of that_, Padmé thought to herself. Still, Sabé was right. She should get some sleep, especially considering that she would still have to deal with running the Alliance until Bail arrived. It was just so amazing! For the first time in over two years, she, Luke, Leia, and Anakin would be together as a family …

_Anakin_.

She rounded on Sabé, anxiety suddenly springing back into her heart. "Anakin doesn't know."

Sabé shook her head sadly. "No. As far as I know, no one has had any contact with him. We have no idea where he is, but I'm sure that he's all right."

Padmé sat down on the couch again. She couldn't bear it if her husband missed his first chance in over two years to be with his children. There had to be a way to get in touch with him, to make sure he knew that the opportunity they had long been waiting for was finally here. But maybe she was overreacting, maybe he already knew. He was, after all, a Jedi …

"He'll be here," she said confidently. "He wouldn't miss this for the galaxy!"

"I know that you're right, Padmé," Sabé told her, hastily blinking back tears from her eyes. "And you're very lucky."

Jadon made his way over to his mother and tugged urgently on her skirt. "What's going on, Mama?"

Sabé reached down and scooped her son into her arms. "We have some very special visitors coming, Jadon. How would you like to meet Aunt Padmé's children, Luke and Leia?"

"Luke and Leia?" Jadon asked. "Do they look like Uncle Ani and Aunt Padmé?"

Sabé smiled. "Yes, they look very much like Uncle Ani and Aunt Padmé. They're just a little smaller."

Jadon smiled, showing off the gap between his teeth. "Will they play wiv' me?"

Sabé nuzzled her son's nose with her own. "Of course they will."

Jadon nodded in approval. "Wizard!"

Sabé rolled her eyes and looked over at Padmé. "I'm going to have to have a talk with Anakin. Who knows what other manner of Tatooine slang he's taught my son?"

Padmé barely heard her. She was basking in the strange and all-too-rare feeling of elation. All her previous worries about Kothla, about the Alliance, about Darth Vader and the Emperor had melted away in an instant, leaving only the lightheaded sense of bliss. In a short time, she would be reunited with her children, and hopefully her husband as well. They would have the opportunity to create a few joyful memories, something she had too little of. It was feelings like this one that gave her the strength to keep fighting, no matter how dark or unwelcome the future seemed.

_You know what, Padmé?_ She thought to herself. _Things just might turn out all right after all._

* * *

**Next Chapter:** _Anakin Skywalker returns to visit an old friend on an all-too-familiar swamp planet in the Outer Rim. While there he confronts the painful legacy that has been stalking him, and stumbles across a revelation so crushing that it could destroy everything he stands for ... and send him spiraling down the path that leads to the Dark Side._


	50. The Prophecy of a Sith

All right, moving right along! It was great to see so many familiar faces (or icons) welcoming me back. Your dedication to this story means a lot to me. Hopefully more will continue to come!

This chapter is, how else can I say it, _crucial_. It is also long - the longest chapter of the story so far. It will, however, set the tone for the rest of the story. After it's over, things may never be the same for Anakin.

Well, I won't keep you waiting any longer ...

EDIT: There was a problem with the server, and a small part of the chapter was cut. It's been fixed ... I hope.

* * *

**Chapter 50**

There was a scent on the air. Even in the eternally pungent atmosphere that pervaded the swamp, this scent stood out. Warm flesh and blood were a precious resource in an environment where no meal came easily. Then as suddenly as it had come, the scent began to fade, whisked away by the wind.

The scrange lowered its head and set off through the trees. The prey was moving again.

The mist was so thick that visibility was limited to only a short distance, but the scrange did not need to see to hunt. Its sharp tongue flickered out of its mouth once more, tasting the air. The prey was closer now. It seemed unaware that it was being stalked. All the better. The element of surprise would be a critical advantage when the time came to make the kill.

There. Through a gap in the mist, the prey was just barely visible. It was bipedal, and nearly as tall as the predator itself, but that was no matter. The hunter had subdued bigger prey than this. The scrange's powerful legs tensed, and its crushing jaws opened eagerly. It could almost taste the succulent flesh now. Just a few more moments.

The prey had slowed down. It was walking casually, almost as if it was waiting for the imminent attack. But that was impossible. If the prey knew that it was being watched, it would be running. The scrange moved closer.

The prey's hand moved casually to its waist, pulling something free. It was defenseless, and the time had come to strike. The scrange sprang from the cover of the mist, jaws extended to grasp its victim's throat.

In an instant, the prey spun around and raised the thing it held in its hand. A burning streak of blue light sprang into existence, blinding the scrange. Too late, it tried to turn its head away. Too late.

The killing light ripped mercilessly through the scrange's chest, piercing its heart. As the dying predator collapsed to the ground at the feet of its prey, it caught one last glimpse of its intended victim's face. That face, and those eyes, shone with a raging fire that no killer could ever hope to overcome.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker deactivated his lightsaber and eyed the dead amphibious beast on the ground in front of him with distaste. That would-be hunter was the third predator that he had been forced to kill merely during the short walk from his starfighter. There had also been a four-meter long snake with razor-sharp fins and a large spider that bore an odd resemblance to a tree. He hadn't even been on this planet for half a standard hour, and he was already questioning why any sentient being would ever want to set foot here, much less scratch out a living for over five years. 

But that was exactly the reason. No sentient being, especially someone affiliated with the Empire, would ever want to come to Dagobah. Here, on the treacherous swampy terrain, their infamous walkers and high-tech weaponry would be useless. If it was difficult enough for a Jedi in light clothing to navigate through the maze of quicksand and extended roots, then it would nearly impossible for stormtroopers in full battle armor to do the same. Besides, from space Dagobah appeared to be devoid of anything resembling technology or intelligent life. There appeared to be no reason to occupy, invade, or even investigate.

But there was one very important reason. And it was that reason that had summoned Anakin here.

The Jedi Knight could see a light in the distance, distorted by the endless blanket of mist. That had to be his destination, unless another renowned Jedi master had recently taken up residence here without his knowledge. Anakin increased his pace, all the while extending his perceptions in the Force, searching for lurking predators. A minute later, he arrived in an open clearing.

The clearing was not natural – it had been made by hand. As if to prove this, at its far end there stood a small, makeshift mud hut, from which the light emanated. The call had been genuine, then. Yoda was here.

Anakin advanced towards the center of the clearing. No one stirred or came out to greet him. He had been under the impression that Yoda was expecting him, but perhaps he had been mistaken. Maybe the great Jedi Master was out attending to business of his own, though what business there was to attend to in this god-forsaken mud pit, Anakin could not fathom.

Anakin extended his Force perceptions even further, searching for some sign of Yoda. He found none. But there was something … it was coming from the base of a tree about fifty meters away. Anakin knew instinctively that this couldn't be Yoda. The perception was too … _dark_.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Anakin moved towards the source of the darkness. As he drew closer, he could see that beneath the roots of the tree there was the entrance to an underground cave. Visually, it was unimpressive, but the dark sense that pervaded the Force was now unmistakable. It seemed to pulse with eagerness, beckoning him. As Anakin leaned in for a closer look, he felt a chill creep along his backbone. The presence was calling to him, and it had a voice …

_Anakin …_

"Looking for someone, you are, hmmm?"

Anakin's heart jolted and he spun around, his ignited lightsaber leaping into his hand. Standing not two meters behind him, face illuminated from the blue glow of his blade, was none other than Jedi Master Yoda. The ancient teacher leaned heavily on his staff, eyeing Anakin with a pensive stare. Embarrassed, Anakin deactivated his blade.

"I seem to have found him," he quipped, quickly tucking the weapon into his belt and bowing. "Forgive me, Master. I failed to sense your presence."

"No fault of yours, it was," Yoda told him. "Hidden are those that wish not to be found, hmmm?"

Anakin nodded, though he didn't really understand. If Yoda had called him here, didn't he wish to be found? Yoda had a rather annoying habit of springing strange tests on his pupils when they were least expecting them. Had this all been a test?

"Come," Yoda rapped Anakin's knee lightly with his cane and set off in the direction of his hut. "Hungry, you must be."

Anakin obediently fell into step behind the Jedi Master … but not before he had taken one long last look at the entrance to the mysterious cave.

* * *

Yoda, bustling about the fire in a surprisingly adept and nimble manner, pressed a steaming hot bowl of what looked like soup into Anakin's hands. "Eat, young Skywalker. Good for you, it is." 

Seated cross-legged on a rush mat (he was far too tall to stand up inside the hut), Anakin accepted the bowl with a grateful nod. The soup, whatever it contained, certainly didn't look that appetizing, but it smelled good and after living for two weeks on tasteless ration bars, Anakin was prepared to try just about anything. He eagerly dipped his spoon into the bowl and brought it to his mouth … only to receive a burnt tongue for his trouble.

Yoda chuckled mildly as Anakin bit back on a particularly vile Huttese curse. "Patience! A virtue in all aspects of life, it is."

Anakin nodded bitterly and lifted the spoon to his mouth again, this time making sure that he took only a small sip. Surprisingly, the soup was delicious, rich in meat, vegetables, and exotic spices. He hadn't had a meal like this in a long time, but he would have enjoyed it more if his mind hadn't been weighed down with the question that had yet to be answered.

As Yoda turned his back on Anakin to tend the fire, the younger Jedi found his voice.

"Why did you bring me here, Master Yoda?"

The ancient Jedi Master huffed and pushed a log further into the blaze with a metal rod. He did not turn around. "Hmmph. Bring you here, I did not, young Skywalker. Brought yourself here, you did."

"You know what I mean," Anakin said impatiently. "I wouldn't have brought myself here if you hadn't called me."

Yoda tilted his head back over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Anakin. "No time to visit with an old teacher, have you?"

"We're at war, Master Yoda," Anakin said, his level of irritation jumping up another notch. He hadn't anticipated that spending five years in a swamp would further enhance Yoda's already cryptic nature. "I have a responsibility to fight."

This statement seemed to strike a sad chord with Yoda. He sighed and finally turned to face Anakin, green eyes locking with blue.

"A responsibility to uphold the mandate, a Jedi has," he said pointedly. "Resist oppression, defend the weak, protect the peace … all of these things a Jedi must do. But soldiers, we are not. Seek conflict, we do not."

"We did not seek out this conflict," Anakin said bitterly, his eyes flashing. "It came to us. Palpatine brought it to our door."

"Allowed him to do so, we did," Yoda replied. "Played into his hands, we did, blinded by the threat to what we feared above all to lose, and that which we did not wish to acknowledge. His pawns, we became."

"Master, I don't see why we're talking about this," Anakin broke in. "This was over five years ago. We both know that we made mistakes; you, me, everyone on the Council. But it's over now. Why can't we focus now on what needs to be done to fix it?"

Yoda took another step towards him, his gaze now boring through Anakin's. "Because if learn from our mistakes, we do not, bound to repeat them, we are."

That pointed statement pierced through Anakin's hardened defenses and sent a spark of pain shooting down the pathways to memories he did not want to revisit. Yoda hidden intent became clear; he had wanted to force Anakin out of the relatively comfortable realm of denial. He had chosen his words very carefully to accomplish this end, and he had succeeded all too well.

"What are you talking about?" Anakin asked, although he knew he was beginning to understand. He just didn't want to.

Yoda did not break his gaze. "Know about your actions on Kuat, I do."

Anakin opened his mouth and then closed it, not knowing what to say. He should have had anticipated this. Yoda might not have access to the Holonet or any other technological means of communication with the outside world here on Dagobah, but the Force was his ally. No doubt he had managed to detect the ripples that Anakin's actions had caused, and follow them back to their source.

There was nothing he could say, no justification that Yoda would accept. He had done the deed willingly. He had invaded the Imperial garrison on Kuat, hunted down the Consul, and coldly murdered the man in his own office. He knew that two wrongs did not make a right, but he just could not ignore what the despicable man had done.

Anakin had been on a covert surveillance mission a few weeks ago, tracking an Imperial diplomat whose mercurial rise to power was catching the attention of leaders on both sides of the conflict. The man seemed to have the Emperor's ear, a remarkable occurrence considering how little Palpatine valued the opinions of others. Anakin had taken it upon himself to find out exactly why this seemingly unremarkable bureaucrat was gaining such prestige in the eyes of the Emperor. His search had led him to hack into the Consul's personal databases, where he had received a violent and heart-stopping shock.

File after file of irrefutable evidence had shown that after years of intense searching, the Consul had somehow uncovered the truth about Anakin's family. He had learned the details of Anakin's marriage to Padmé, discovered the birth of their children, and had even begun to piece together their whereabouts. This was the agent whose investigation had forced him and Padmé to cancel their visit to see the twins. He had been only a short time away from going before the Palpatine himself and divulging the secret the Emperor had been longing to hear.

It had been too much for Anakin. Faced with the prospect of killing a high-ranking Imperial official or allowing what fragile sanctuary his family still had to be shattered, Anakin had chosen the lesser of the two evils. He had ruthlessly silenced the Consul in a manner that was sure to attract a great deal of publicity for its seemingly random nature. To the very select few who knew the true significance of the Consul's death, it represented a raising of the stakes, a direct challenge by the galaxy's most infamous outlaw to its esteemed ruler.

Anakin wanted to break Yoda's gaze, but he found it impossible to look away. Yoda would not be satisfied until Anakin gave him a reason, but he could not understand. No one, not even Padmé, would ever be able to fully understand.

"I … I have no excuse, Master," he admitted shamefully after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I made the decision alone, and I acted alone."

Yoda sighed and finally, mercifully, released Anakin from his stare. Anakin let out a breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding in. Yoda meanwhile, had turned back towards the fire and was now staring intently into the flames.

"A crucial time, this is," he murmured.

Anakin wasn't sure if Yoda was addressing him or merely talking to himself. Tentatively, he reached out to the ancient Jedi. "Master?"

Yoda faced him again. "Waited five years, we have, Anakin. Now arrived, our time has. To make our move soon, necessary, it is. Leave Dagobah, I must, and fulfill your destiny, you will."

"But Master," Anakin interjected, "It's too soon. The Empire is still looking for you, and we don't have nearly the military capacity for a final strike against the Empire…"

"Speak not of the Empire, I do," Yoda interjected forcefully, "But of the Prophecy."

_The Prophecy._

Anakin felt his body turn to ice as a cold fire touched his heart. Not this. Anything but this. He had never embraced the idea that was the Chosen One, but for the past few years he had been actively running from it. He didn't want to embrace the idea that he was not the master of his own fate, or that he was in some obscure way destined to bring balance to the Force. Every time he thought he was taking a step in the right direction towards fulfilling his supposed destiny, he had been forced to suffer an acutely painful loss.

Throughout his life, the Prophecy had brought him nothing but misery and death.

He could not understand why Yoda was bringing this up now. The Grandmaster of the old Jedi Order was one of the few Jedi who had never seemed to set much in store by the Prophecy. He hadn't even wanted Anakin to be _trained_ until he had been persuaded by Obi-Wan's insistence that the Council honor Qui-Gon's dying wish. While he believed that Yoda had been impressed with his rapid progress in the Force, he had always gotten the sense that Yoda viewed him more as a potential danger than a potential savior.

This was a dramatic reversal. He wondered what had prompted it.

He looked at Master Yoda carefully, waiting for any sign that would give him a clue as to where this conversation was headed. Yoda had closed his eyes and his lips were moving slightly, as if he were communicating with someone only he could see. This went on for several moments, and then Yoda nodded resignedly. He opened his eyes, tapped Anakin on the knee with his cane, and gestured towards the bowl of soup in Anakin's hand.

"Finish that, you will, then follow me."

He turned and walked towards the door of his hut leading out into the swamp. Obediently, Anakin downed the rest of the tasty stew (it had mercifully cooled while he and Yoda had been talking), then set the bowl by the fire and followed the Jedi Master outside.

Yoda led him into the center of the clearing. Anakin stopped a few paces behind him, waiting for further instructions. Without looking at him, Yoda swept his hand across the landscape, inviting Anakin to take in his surroundings.

"From all life the Force comes," he whispered. "And from the Force comes all life. Nurture each other, they do. As one grows, so does the other. As one weakens, so must the other. An endless circle, it is, with no beginning and no end. Find our place in this circle, we all must. Possible, this is, only by trusting our innermost essence of self, in harmony with the Living Force."

He turned to face Anakin. "Stretch out with your feelings, Anakin. Feel the life around you and within you. To the place the Force calls you, go, you must."

Anakin closed his eyes and let the Force flow through him. Through his incredible power in the Force, he could sense it all: the living energies of a thousand different plants, the rapid breathing of the small animals that lived in and around the swamp, and the much more steady breathing of the larger predators that hunted them. He could sense Yoda, an island of perfect calm amidst the swirling currents that surrounded them and he could sense himself as he fell into rhythm with the world around him, the methodical beating of heart matching the pulse of life and death that never ceased.

There was only one spot that did not seem to be in harmony with the rest. It was a cold emptiness, a hole in the ocean of life, devoid of anything but the unmistakable taint of darkness. Anakin knew what it was, but he did not open his eyes as his feet carried him unconsciously towards it until the chill that emanated from the void before him was so strong that it cut off his sense of all the life around him. The circle broken, Anakin opened his eyes.

He was standing in front of the cave.

Anakin spun around to face Yoda, who had followed him from the center of the clearing. The old Jedi Master looked sad and resigned, as if he had known this was coming. Anakin spoke.

"What is this place?"

Yoda's tone was grim. "That place … is strong in the Dark Side of the Force. A domain of evil, it is." He leaned heavily on his gimer stick and looked hard up at Anakin.

"In you must go."

Anakin glanced down at the entrance to the cave. Whatever lay in there surely couldn't be as bad as some of the trials he had had to face. All the same, Yoda's calm yet ominous attitude had put him on edge.

"What's in there?"

Yoda looked down at the ground, his hunched shoulders suggesting that he knew far more than what he was letting on.

"Only what you take with you."

The cryptic answer knocked Anakin's anticipation up a notch. He knew that he had to see what Yoda was talking about for himself. His hand on his lightsaber, he stepped towards the cave.

"Your weapon," Yoda told him, his voice barely audible. "You will not need it."

Anakin hesitated. If he read Yoda correctly, then whatever he was to meet in this cave wouldn't require a fight. But after staving off three vicious attacks from ravenous predators during the short time he had been on Dagobah, he wasn't about to go anywhere without his lightsaber.

Yoda made no move to stop him as he ducked beneath the twisted roots and entered the cave.

* * *

The cave was surprisingly large, tall enough for Anakin to stand up in and wide enough for him to spread his arms to their fullest extent. It was also deep, extending a great distance beneath the surface. Anakin could only see a few meters ahead of him before his vision met a wall of almost impenetrable blackness. Slowly, cautiously, he moved forward, his Force perceptions extended all around him as he traced the source of the cold presence he had felt earlier. It was all around him, but the strongest sense seemed to be coming from directly ahead. 

A few insects chirped ominously and he heard the hiss of some large lizard a short distance from his head, but other than that the cave was silent. It seemed as though the darkness in this cave was an anathema to life, and the cold that pervaded his body chilled Anakin to the bone.

The darkness was now so thick that Anakin could only see what was directly in front of his face, but he did not reach for his lightsaber to give him light. Yoda had warned him about taking a weapon into the cave, and the Force would warn him of any impending danger.

He took another step, and then stopped. The darkness around him seemed to be distorting. It swirled around him as if he had stepped into a whirlpool, and he thought he caught a faint shimmer dancing through the black currents. Something was happening … something surreal. Anakin's instinct told him to go back, but he found himself unwilling to do so. Whatever lay with in this cave needed to be seen, and if necessary, confronted.

Determinedly, Anakin took another step forward … and the world around him began to dissolve.

The Jedi felt himself being gathered up and hurled through space and time. It was as though a hole had opened in the fabric of the universe and he was being carried away at the speed of light. But he wasn't moving … his feet where still planted firmly on the floor of the cave.

As quickly as it had disappeared, the world reformed. But this world was different from the one Anakin had just left. Gone were the dank roots and oppressive darkness of the cave. He was standing in what seemed to be a vast, dimly lit antechamber, its architecture strangely alien in design.

Anakin spun around, but the way which he had come had disappeared, replaced by an impenetrable stone wall. On his left and his right were two passageways that led into darkness. In front of him was an imposing stone staircase leading up to some higher plateau within the antechamber. Sensing that this was his most viable option, Anakin ascended the stairs.

The platform on which he found himself was large, about sixteen meters by twenty meters. The end on which he stood was devoid of anything of interest, but the far end was another story. An enormous wall stood at there, covered with strange symbols and what appeared to be an ancient form of writing. The wall was split into two pieces, with an alcove in the middle, and in this alcove there stood a towering statue of a robed figure. The figure's head was bowed, and as Anakin followed its gaze he saw an ornately carved sarcophagus resting on the floor about four meters from the base of the wall. A cold feeling stole into the pit of Anakin's stomach. He was in a tomb.

Something else caught his attention, a movement in the shadows at the base of the statue. As Anakin advanced, the source of the movement came into view: a dark, robed figure seated in a throne at the statue's feet.

Anakin's hand moved instantly to his lightsaber. The figure seemed strangely familiar, yet the power that pulsed within him – the power which had drawn Anakin to the cave – was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was dangerous, but also distant, almost like an echo. It was as if the figure didn't truly reside in the realm of the living.

As Anakin took another step towards him, the figure raised its head and looked directly at him. The face was obscured by shadows, but Anakin got a glimpse of a full smile of rotting teeth before the figure spoke.

"Welcome, my young Jedi. I have been expecting you."

The dark man's guttural voice sounded all too familiar to Anakin. His grip tightened on his lightsaber as his heart tensed in shock.

"_Palpatine?_"

The figure grinned widely. "Yes … and no."

This cryptic answer did nothing to calm Anakin's uneasiness, or his mounting anger.

"If you're not Palpatine, then who are you?"

The dark man leaned back in his throne and sighed. "Ah, my young Jedi, you could not have asked a more difficult question! You see, I have many so _many_ names, so many different lives comprising my identity! To restrict me to just one would take away from the essence of who I am." He leaned forward, peering intently at Anakin. "However, I suppose that as a courtesy I should choose one to facilitate our discussion. Tell me, are you familiar with a certain Sith Lord who lived over a thousand years ago, the one who remade the failing Sith Order in his image and established the Rule of Two?"

Anakin's eyes widened, the memories of his studies at the Jedi Temple rising to the surface of his mind.

"Darth Bane?"

Bane chuckled approvingly and leaned back in his throne. "Very good."

"But that's impossible," Anakin whispered, his mind whirling. "You've been dead for a thousand years!"

"Surely you have read the ancient writings of the Sith," Bane chuckled again. "All Jedi do, even though they fail to understand their true significance. A true Sith _never_ dies. A thousand years ago my body may have passed away, as is the inevitable fate of all things flesh … but my spirit, my true essence, found its way to the memory that has long sustained my forefathers and my successors." Bane spread his hands, encompassing the entire antechamber. "And here I am."

Anakin followed Bane's hands as they passed over his domain. "So where are we? And why are _you_ here?"

"Another difficult question," Bane replied placidly. "You see, right now there is a difference between where we _are_ and where we _appear to be_. You, for instance, are standing in a rather special cave on the surface of the planet Dagobah, while I am floating in the ether that separates the galaxy of the living from the realm of the dead. As for where we appear to be, the answer is the final resting place of one of my most honored predecessors, a great Sith warrior who lived over four thousand years ago. This is a place that holds a special significance to my past … and your future.

"As for why I am here, that question is much easier to answer. I am here because you are here, Anakin."

Anakin's heart rate jumped another ten beats per minute, and he took half a step back away from the throne. "How do you know my name?"

"How would I _not_ know your name?" Bane smiled broadly, leaning forward in his throne again. "Tales of your many noble and brave deeds have spread far and wide, Anakin Skywalker, and I find these tales especially interesting. One could argue that the galaxy has not seen such a renowned savior since the last great Sith War! The Hero Without Fear … truly a moniker worthy of great respect."

The Sith Lord's yellowish-orange eyes burned with an inner fire. "But you are not without fear, are you, Anakin? Your fear is stronger than you want anyone to know. It rules you … the fear of losing that which you do not wish to give up. It haunts your sleep at night, with dreams and visions of those you love dying before your eyes, and you are unable to save them. Your fear has influenced every choice that you have ever made, and that same fear is threatening to turn you away from your destiny."

Anakin's eyes narrowed. His desire to understand what Bane was driving at was overcoming his surprise and anger that the long-dead Sith Lord seemed to know so much about him. "My destiny?"

"Yes, Anakin, your destiny." Bane raised himself from his throne and began to walk towards Anakin. The Jedi drew his lightsaber and held it at the ready, but Bane gave no sign of wanting to attack him. He stopped a short distance away, examining Anakin closely. "Every living thing, both sentient and non-sentient, has a destiny. Without it, there would be no reason for its existence. My destiny was to cleanse the Brotherhood of Darkness, wipe out their teachings, and institute the Rule of Two. This I did. In death, I was to advise all future generations of my successors so that the Sith might survive until their time came again. This I have done. We all exist to further the will of the Force, Anakin, and the Force has a plan for us all."

"That doesn't sound like the sentiment of a Sith," Anakin countered. "I thought that your kind viewed the Force as your servant, not the other way around."

Bane bowed his head, conceding the point. "Even the Force cannot account for all aspects of a sentient being's nature," he said almost regretfully. "When someone with unlimited power at their disposal is aloud to reign unchecked, it is all too easy for corruption to take hold. Views that were once honorably upheld can become twisted. However, the ancient prophets of the Sith foresaw this. That is why there was great cause for hope when they gazed into the future and found the one who would tear down the blasphemy that had arisen and restore the order as it should have been, the one who could wield absolute power without allowing it to consume him." Bane's eyes glowed eagerly. "Tell me, Anakin, have you heard of the Prophecy?"

Anakin ground his teeth together. Yoda's conversation with him concerning the Prophecy was still fresh in his mind. It had brought him no further enlightenment, only a rush of dark memories. "Yes. According to the Journal of the Whills, 'in the time of greatest despair, there shall come a savior, and he shall be known as _The Son of the Suns_.' He will bring balance to the Force." Anakin returned Bane's hard gaze without emotion. "The Jedi think that it's … me."

Bane's smile turned cold. "I do not speak of the Jedi's perversion of the prophecy, Anakin. I speak of the _true_ prophecy. The Prophecy … of the Sith'ari."

Anakin started slightly. He had heard of the Sith'ari, but his understanding about the meaning of that particular prophecy was even less comprehensive than the prophecy of the Chosen One. He had never considered the fact the prophecy could apply to him in any way. After all, it was a prophecy of the Sith.

But at that moment another memory rose into his thoughts. Five years ago, on Yavin 4, a dark presence within the Temple had addressed him as both the Chosen One _and_ the Sith'ari. It had then gone on to aid him in destroying Asajj Ventress. At the time, he had been far too concerned with saving his beloved Padmé to pay any heed to the call, but now …

"I see that you have heard of it, but its exact meaning is eluding you," Bane spoke, interrupting Anakin's thoughts. "Perhaps you need to refresh your memory."

He pointed a ghostly finger at the wall behind the sarcophagus. Anakin walked in the direction indicated until he was only a short distance away from the wall, close enough to make out the strange symbols and ancient writing, which seemed to be highly organized. One section of the strange script stood out from the rest.

Anakin turned to look over his shoulder at Bane. "I can't read this."

Something cold brushed his thoughts, and suddenly Anakin was looking at the world through different eyes.

"How about now?"

Anakin returned his focus to the wall and found to his surprise that while the words were still written in the same ancient script, he could now understand them perfectly. Slowly, he began to read aloud.

"Thus say the ancient prophets: _at the height of the Sith Empire, there shall be born the perfect being. Free from the restrictions that bound all before him, he shall rise to seize the ultimate peak of the ancient power which we have been entrusted to hold and protect. Through his ascent he shall destroy the Order of the Sith, but in his own image it shall be rebuilt, stronger than ever before. Under his name, peace and order shall reign until the last sun shines no more. This is Prophecy of the Sith'ari._"

He turned to face Bane once again. "I don't understand. What does this have to do with me?"

"It has _everything_ to do with you," Bane hissed, his dark excitement spilling into the ghostly aura that surrounded him. "You are the one. This is your destiny and you are the only one who can fulfill it … Lord Vader."

Time seemed to freeze. An icy wind stole through the air, stealing away any breath that Anakin might have drawn. He couldn't think. He couldn't believe the words that had just invaded his mind, driving out any other semblance of rational thought. Even the beating of his heart seemed to cease, leaving him momentarily suspended as if in the clutches of death itself.

"_What did you call me?_" he finally hissed, forcing the words through his tightening throat.

"Your name," Bane laughed, its harsh tones ringing painfully in Anakin's ears. "Your _true_ name. The name that it was written you would be granted when you finally assumed the mantle that should have been yours from birth."

"_That … is … impossible_!" Anakin snarled, his blue eyes shining with enough fury to rip through the darkness surrounding Bane's soul. "_Your words are lies_!"

"Consider the wording of the prophecy," Bane said carelessly, striding past Anakin, who was still paralyzed with shock. "_The perfect being_ … you, my friend, are as close to genetically perfect as it is possible to be – conceived by the Force itself! _Free from all restrictions_ … nothing is impossible for you, Lord Vader. You have power the likes of which this galaxy has never seen, if only you can reach your full potential. _Through his ascent he shall destroy the Order of the Sith, but in his own image it shall be rebuilt ..._ well, that's still to come, isn't it? The Jedi Order has already been culled, your Empire established …"

"No!" Anakin forced out. "I'm not the one who fell to the Dark Side! I'm not the one who led the assault on the Jedi Temple! I'm not the one who took the name Darth Vader! That was …"

"Obi-Wan?" Bane laughed, a hint of cruelty tainting his amusement. "Yes, it's very interesting that your former master has played his way into this somehow. You see, he had a very different destiny before, but the Force saw fit to change it when you chose to deny your own fate."

He stepped closer to Anakin, his fiery gaze boring into the Jedi's ice blue eyes. "Do you not see now, Anakin? _You_, not Obi-Wan, were supposed to embrace the Dark Side of the Force and become Darth Vader. _You_ were supposed to carry out the necessary cleansing of the Jedi and their misguided Council. You were supposed to face fire and death on Mustafar, only to rise from the ashes with the strength of will to rule an Empire! _You_ are the Sith'ari of the ancient prophecy, but up until now you have refused to acknowledge it! No more! You _will_ recognize the mistake that you made five years ago and you _will_ set things right!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anakin spat. He was trembling now, whether from fear or rage he could not tell. "_I_ couldn't even figure out my own destiny, so how in the hell do you know so much about it? The future is always in motion …"

"A Jedi maxim," Bane sneered. "One of Master Yoda's, no doubt. The future may always be in motion, my friend, and sometimes it may even change. But ultimately, if something is destined to happen, it will happen, no matter how much the instrument of destiny wishes it to be otherwise."

"I don't believe you …"

"Still you doubt?" Bane laughed. "Very well. Let me show you the past as it should have been, and the future … as it will be."

A dark force invaded Anakin's mind, and vision began to swirl. He closed his eyes to stop himself from becoming disoriented and when he opened them again …

He was standing in Chancellor Palpatine's office. And he wasn't alone.

_"He's a traitor!"_

_"He is the traitor!" Mace shouted at Anakin._

_Palpatine continued to look pleadingly at Anakin. "I have the power to save the one you love. You must choose!"_

_"Don't listen to him, Anakin!" Mace shouted._

_The flow of lightning began to die as Palpatine's strength faded. "I can't … hold on any longer. I'm … I'm too weak …"_

_The lightning flow gave out, and Palpatine collapsed. Mace, still standing tall and strong, pointed his lightsaber at Palpatine's heart. "I am going to end this once and for all!"_

_"You can't!" Anakin exclaimed. The Anakin of the present, watching through the eyes of his past self, started. He had made no effort to speak. This scene was playing out independently of him. He was nothing more than an observer, a spectator to his own fate. "He must stand trial!"_

_"He has control of the Senate and the Courts!" Mace countered. "He's too dangerous to be left alive!"_

_"I'm too weak!" Palpatine called. "Don't kill me. Please …"_

_"It's not the Jedi way!" Anakin felt himself scream. "He must live!"_

_Mace ignored him. He raised his lightsaber …_

_"Please, don't …" Palpatine begged._

_"I need him!" Anakin pleaded._

_"Please, don't …"_

_Mace's lightsaber began to descend._

_"NOOOOOOO!"_

_Anakin felt himself tear his lightsaber from his belt, ignite it, and swing, just as he had done five years before. But instead of blocking Master Windu's blade, Anakin''s lightsaber made contact with Mace's right arm, severing it at the elbow._

_Anakin's heart raced with shock and Mace screamed in agony, clutching at the stump where his arm had been. Palpatine, seeing what had happened, suddenly directed a torrential blast of lightning at the wounded Master, cackling as Mace writhed under the assault._

_"Power!" He roared insanely. "Unlimited Power!"_

_Helplessly, barely able to breathe, Anakin watched as Palpatine hurled Mace's dying body from the window, his screams echoing until he disappeared from sight._

_Anakin felt himself sink back onto the chair behind him, his eyes blurring with tears as his lips unwillingly moved._

_"What have I done?"_

_Palpatine stood up, his horribly deformed face stretched into a cruel smile. "You're fulfilling your destiny, Anakin. Become my apprentice. Learn to use the Dark Side of the Force."_

_Anakin felt himself nod reluctantly as he looked up into the Sith Lord's face through his tears. "I will do … whatever you ask."_

_"Goooood …" Palpatine hissed._

_Anakin tried desperately to reach out to his past self, looking for any way that he could seize control and halt this terrible chain of events. But he was utterly helpless as he heard himself speak once more._

_"Just help me save Padmé's life. I can't … live without her."_

_Palpatine nodded in agreement. "To cheat death is a power that only one has achieved, but if we work together, I know that we can discover the secret."_

_Anakin bowed his head and sank to his knees on the floor before the Sith Lord. "I pledge myself … to your teachings."_

_The present Anakin felt as though his soul had just been lowered into a vat of ice. This couldn't be happening …_

_"Good," Palpatine proclaimed. He closed his yellowed eyes and inhaled deeply. "The Force is strong with you. A powerful Sith, you will become." He opened his eyes once more and smiled. "Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth … Vader."_

_The office around him dissolved, and suddenly Anakin found himself shooting through a series of memories. But they were not his memories … he was a helpless prisoner in his own body as he watched his past self progress through time._

_He was ascending a series of stairs, his hood pulled over his head and his lightsaber in his hand. The Jedi Temple came into view. Behind him, the relentless marching of a thousand clone troopers was drowned out by Palpatine's voice echoing in the back of his mind._

_"Every single Jedi, including your friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is now an enemy of the Republic. Do what must be done …"_

_He stood before the younglings now, as they looked up at him with their faces so innocent and trusting. A young boy with blond hair and blue eyes looked up at him, hero worship shining in his eyes. "Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! What are we going to do?"_

_The bottom of Anakin's stomach dropped out in icy horror. He felt his thumb slide over the smooth surface of his lightsaber's ignition as his blade sprang into existence, and the boy's expression went from admiration to fear. Anakin tried to close his eyes; he couldn't stand to watch this …_

_To his relief, the scene changed once more. But that relief disappeared as Anakin realized where he was now: on Mustafar, slaughtering the leaders of the Confederacy._

_The remaining images shot by at light speed, but each and every one of them burned itself permanently into his mind with staggering clarity._

_He was on the landing pad, his face contorted with both despair and hate, his arm extended before him like a claw. Before him, Padmé was clutching her throat as he choked her, her beautiful brown eyes pleading with him silently not to do this. A short distance away stood Obi-Wan, wearing the robes of a Jedi, his face appalled as he yelled something Anakin could not discern. As Anakin loosened his grip, Padmé collapsed, and the fallen Jedi turned towards his former master with murder in his heart …_

_He was dueling with Obi-Wan, their situations reversed. The older Jedi's sharp blue-grey eyes showed a world of pain, but Anakin did not seem to notice or care …_

_He was lying on the banks of the lava river in immense pain, both of his legs and one arm severed. Obi-Wan stood above him, looking agonized over what he had done, but making no move to help his former padawan. The older Jedi shouted something, and this time Anakin could hear what it was._

_"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"_

_Anakin's eyes burned red and his agonized face contorted into an expression of pure fury._

_"I HATE YOU!"_

_Obi-Wan's eyes welled up with tears at Anakin's words. "You were my brother, Anakin!" he choked out. "I loved you!"_

_The fire ignited Anakin's clothes and began to consume him. He heard himself scream …_

_He saw himself in the black mechanical suit and the fearsome mask that commanded the respect and obedience of the entire galaxy. He was standing on a platform before a vast crowd dressed entirely in black, his lightsaber out and ignited as they roared in approval …_

_He was on the deck of an enormous space station, his gloved hand restraining a beautiful young woman who looked stunningly like Padmé. A pristine, peaceful world showed through the viewport. The woman was pleading with someone, but her entreaties came to naught as an immense beam of pure energy flew towards the planet and blew it away …_

_He was standing on the catwalk of a city in the clouds, engaged in a fearsome lightsaber duel against a young man with blond hair and blue eyes … his eyes. The boy fell back, and Anakin's lightsaber swept in, severing his right arm …_

_Then he was bound to a table, his vision turned a mechanical red. Slowly the table began to rotate, leaving him in a standing position. He caught one glimpse of the Emperor's leering face, and he heard the Sith Lord's malevolent voice before the vision of what might have been began to slip away._

_"Lord Vader."_

_"Yes, Master?"_

_"Rise ..."_

Then it was over. Anakin soaked in a cold sweat, staggered away from Bane, his vision blurred and his heart pounding in his ears. It couldn't be true … it just couldn't. This had to be a trick. But his desperate internal pleadings faded to nothing as Bane spoke again.

"It must be clear to you now. The cleansing of the Jedi Order was what the Force demanded, as was the subsequent rise of the Sith. Everything was in place for you to lead this movement. But something held you back."

Anakin's strangled voice forced his way through his lips. "And what was that?"

Bane's lips curled in derision. "Love. Your blind affection for the woman you call your wife has been your fate's undoing. Your bond has become so strong that it has sapped your will at the most crucial times. Because of her, you would not strike down Dooku. Because of her, you have pulled yourself back from the edge of true power time and time again. It became clear to us that you needed further incentive if you were to embrace the Dark Side. So we gave it to you – in the form of your former master's and dear friend's fall.

"And so your destiny became Obi-Wan's. He consented to assume the mantle of Lord Vader and carry out the necessary work of eliminating the Jedi and laying the foundations of your Empire, which he has done admirably. Of course, you complicated matters when you injured him so severely on Mustafar, but your actions merely told us that that you were ready to embrace your role. In time-honored Sith tradition, the apprentice must rise above the master. Obi-Wan has been very effective behind the mask of Darth Vader, but he is not the Sith'ari of ancient legend. That is you.

"You see, my friend? This was meant to happen. You were supposed to take up the name and the purpose of Lord Vader long ago. But you didn't. So now you must."

"No," Anakin said forcefully, pulling the last vestiges of strength from his crumbling resolve. "What might have happened did _not_ happen. Obi-Wan has already become Vader. This is all …"

"You are forgetting what is perhaps the most important part of the prophecy," Bane interrupted him. "_Under his name, peace and order shall reign until the last sun shines no more. Under his name …_" Bane's eyes flashed triumphantly. "The name is the most important aspect. The identity of Lord Vader is far more expansive than the identity of Anakin Skywalker. From the point of view of the galaxy, they are separate individuals, but the truth is that you are about to assume a legend that is much greater than the sum of its parts. It does not matter that Obi-Wan Kenobi began the path of Darth Vader. What matters is that you, Anakin Skywalker, finish it."

He pointed to the stairs behind Anakin. "Go now. Validate this by facing your final test."

As he spoke, someone ascended the stairs. He was over two meters tall and entirely encased in an armored black suit. His soulless mask reflected the fear on Anakin's face. In his hand he held a glowing red lightsaber.

Vader.

Anakin had no time to wonder whether or not this was another Force projection or if Vader had found him at last, because the Sith Lord chose that moment to rush him. Anakin tore his lightsaber off his belt and ignited it, just in time to stop a lethal strike aimed at his heart.

The urgency of battle took over, and Anakin fought for his life. His precise and deadly strikes forced Vader off the offensive. The Sith Lord did not yield easily, but slowly Anakin began to overpower him …

Then as suddenly as the duel had begun, it was over. Anakin's blade slashed upward too fast for Vader to block, and the beam of energy ripped across the Sith Lord's neck, severing his head. Vader's body collapsed to the ground, and the head came to rest, mask up, at Anakin's feet.

Before Anakin could come to terms with what he had done, there was an explosion of sparks and Vader's mask was consumed. As the smoke cleared, Anakin looked down amidst the wreckage to see …

His own face.

Anakin rounded on Bane, his lightsaber raised in the ready position, his living face a mask of anguish.

"So it shall be," Bane hissed, his evil face glowing with satisfaction. "So it shall be."

"It's not true!" Anakin screamed. "I won't let it happen!"

"There is nothing you can do, my friend," Bane laughed. "It has already begun."

Anakin could stand it no more. Pure rage seized him, and he lunged out with his blade, stabbing Bane through the heart.

The Sith Lord's laughter did not die as slowly he began to fade away into a cloud of darkness. Its mocking, triumphant tones burned in Anakin's ears and echoed in his thoughts as he stood there, numb with disbelief. Bane vanished, leaving Anakin alone with Vader's body.

As soon as Bane was gone, the body burst into flames. To Anakin's horror, however, it was his _own_ skin that began to burn. Pain the likes of which he had never felt before seized him, and he heard himself scream.

A cloud of smoke consumed the body on the floor. When it cleared the armor had vanished and Anakin could see that the body was no longer his: it was Obi-Wan's. His former master's dead eyes looked up at him with an expression of mixed surprise, pain, and deep sadness.

Anakin could not dwell on it, however. As his skin blackened and his lungs seared, he found himself being compressed, as if he were being forced into a suit of armor. The smoke condensed on his arms to form heavy black gauntlets and forced its way into his chest to form an iron-clad shield around his dying lungs. As it descended upon his face, Anakin closed his eyes, unable to endure it any longer.

Then it was over. Anakin was kneeling on the ground, his head bowed and his vision tinted with a dark red. The only sound was odd mechanical hiss of someone's breathing.

_His_ breathing.

_Phhhhhht … haaaaaaah … phhhhhht … haaaaaaah …_

Anakin stood up. His limbs felt much heavier than they used to. He headed straight for the tomb of the dead Sith Lord, a long black cape swirling behind him …

Reflected on the shiny surface of the sarcophagus, he saw the mask. Vader's mask, now bound to his face. With mounting fear, Anakin pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it. The pure blue color was gone. His blade had turned blood red.

Darkness gathered at the corners of Anakin's vision, and he felt himself collapse, one arm resting on the smooth marble of the tomb. As he surrendered himself to the blissful oblivion, he could hear Bane's voice calling to him once more, speaking words that he knew would never forget for as long as he lived.

_The Shadow of Vader looms over you, Anakin Skywalker. It is the Shadow … of Destiny._

* * *

Yoda was sitting on a large root outside the entrance to the dark side cave, meditating. This is what he had always done when he found his thoughts to be conflicted, and during his exile on Dagobah he had found that the need for such moments had become more pronounced. Usually meditation had a calming effect on his mind, but Yoda found that despite his best efforts, he was unable to shake his profound sense of unease. He had been reluctant to send Anakin in to the cave in the first place, but the voice he had come to respect and trust had advised him that this course of action was both inevitable and necessary. 

Yoda had consented, accepting the reasoning that Anakin would need to face his demons if he was ever to fulfill his destiny as the Chosen One. But as the minutes stretched into nearly an hour, he found that he was less and less sure of his decision. Something had happened in the cave, something that he had not anticipated. He could only hope that it would not prove to be Anakin's ultimate undoing.

_Be patient_, the voice advised him.

Yoda nodded in acceptance. Placing his trust in the Force had severed him well, and he would continue to do so.

Just as he was settling into a more peaceful state, a noise caught his attention. Yoda opened his eyes and looked down into the entrance to the cave. As the noise drew closer, the Jedi Master recognized it as the sound of uneven footsteps. The wait was over; Anakin was returning.

Without further warning, a black gloved hand shot out of the darkness and seized a thick vine that was draped across the cave's mouth. An arm followed, then a head and a pair of shoulders. With a last ditch effort, Anakin Skywalker pulled his entire body up and out, collapsing on the ground at Yoda's feet.

Yoda stood up, concern welling up inside of him. Anakin was shaking uncontrollably, and all his considerable strength seemed to have left him. As far as Yoda's trained eye could tell, he was not physically injured in any way. But the pain that was pouring off the young Jedi was so immense, so overwhelming that even Yoda, who was no stranger to suffering, had to shield himself from it.

"Jedi Skywalker!" he called urgently. "All right, are you?"

Anakin did not seem to have heard him. Slowly, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees, which continue to shake. The Chosen One's mud-streaked face was contorted with some inner torment, and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be whispering something to himself, and Yoda had to lean in to hear it.

"No. No. It's not true. None of it. It was all a lie, a dream …"

Tentatively, Yoda reached out and touched his former pupil on the shoulder. Anakin immediately recoiled from the touch and tumbled away. Unconsciously he pushed himself to his feet, but if anything he appeared less stable than before.

Do you hear me?" he yelled, glaring directly at Yoda but not seeming to see him at all. "_It's not true_!"

"Jedi Skywalker!" Yoda snapped, not out of anger or impatience, but simply because it seemed to be the only way to get Anakin to snap out of whatever delirium it was that had seized him. "Calm down, you will!"

Anakin blinked and focused his eyes on Yoda, as if seeing him for the first time. His pain, however, had in no way subsided. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Yoda's voice returned to its normal calm tones. "What saw you, Anakin? Tell me."

"I saw …" Anakin swallowed hard. He swayed unsteadily and had to brace himself against the trunk of a nearby tree to avoid falling over. "I saw … myself. I was reliving my life; my life as it would have been if I …"

He shook his head as if trying to clear it of some horrible memory. "I led the raid on the Jedi Temple. I killed younglings. I choked Padmé. I fought Obi-Wan on Mustafar and he left me to die …"

The tightness in Yoda's chest, though still very much present, eased slightly. "The past, that is, Jedi Skywalker. Happen, it did not."

"No!" Anakin exclaimed. "He said … he said that it was my destiny … that I couldn't escape it! He said I was the one spoken of in the ancient Sith prophecy; he called me …"

Yoda felt the tightness in his chest return, far stronger than before. "Who is 'he', Anakin? Call you what, did he?"

Anakin's hand curled into a tight fist, and he closed his eyes as if he were struggling to force a terrible truth past his lips.

"Vader," he choked out. "He called me Vader …"

Yoda had to lean heavily on his gimer stick to stop himself from swaying with shock. Though Anakin's recollections of what he had seen in the cave had been extremely vague, the final word had proved to be the key to the puzzle. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what Anakin had seen. The great Jedi Master closed his eyes and hung his head, his shoulders bowed in defeat.

Anakin noticed Yoda's reaction, and his lip curled in anger and disgust.

"You knew, didn't you?" he snapped. The bitter accusation hung in the air like a toxic gas. "_This_ is why you didn't want me to be trained. _This_ is why you and the other Masters shunned me. _This_ is why …" a hot tear slid down his cheek, "This is why everyone that I've ever loved has suffered."

Yoda looked up at Anakin, and for the first time there was no answer in the wisdom behind his deep green eyes.

"Anakin …" he entreated quietly.

Anakin shoved himself away from the tree that he had been leaning against and spun around, seeming much steadier than he had before.

"I can't stay here."

Yoda moved towards him hurriedly, his gimer stick barely touching the ground. "Wait, Anakin! Plans we must make, before rushing off to fight, we go."

Anakin did not turn around, nor did he halt his stride.

"I'll send someone back for you. An Alliance ship will pick you up in three days and bring you back to headquarters, where you can make all the plans you want. But I can't stay here. I need to leave … now."

Yoda stopped, recognizing the futility of his efforts. He looked sadly after Anakin's retreating back.

"What we make of it, our future is, Anakin," he called finally. "Stronger than the will, no prophecy is."

Anakin's step faltered, but he did not stop.

"May the Force be with you, Master Yoda," he said flatly. "It has never been with me."

With that, Anakin Skywalker disappeared into the mists of the swamp, leaving Yoda alone in the clearing.

The Jedi Master sighed and reached out into the Force. "Told you, I did, that clouded, that boy's future is," he said heavily. "See nothing, I can."

Qui-Gon Jinn's strong voice echoed across the swamp. _You must have faith, my old friend. Anakin will be tested, and his path will bring him to the edge of the darkness, but love will save him. Love is the answer to the darkness. Strong and unwavering, its light will always shine … even after the stars themselves go out._

* * *

Anakin moved as if his mind were lost in a thick fog. He barely noticed where he was going as he retraced his path through the swamp. Though he did not bother to keep a lookout for predators, none rose out of the mist to confront him. They seemed to sense his turmoil, and its sheer vivacity scared them away. 

He reached his starfighter, climbed into it, and numbly began the ignition process. In no time the craft was up and hovering. Anakin sealed the cockpit and opened the throttle to maximum, rocketing up through the atmosphere at as steep of an angle as the ship's design would allow.

Seconds later he had cleared the atmosphere and was soaring out of the planet's gravity well towards the point where he could make the jump to light speed. Anakin barely noticed which set of coordinates he was typing into the navicomputer, and he didn't much care. Maybe it was for the best if he was wrong and these coordinates would carry him into a star or to some vast empty stretch of space where he could drift silently until his life support systems gave out. Dying was the only certain way to avoid the devastation he could unleash upon the galaxy, upon his family, and upon himself.

Anakin had tried to deny it. From the second those words had spilled out of the long-dead Sith Lord's lips, he had tried to tell himself that it was wrong. Bane had been lying, just as Palpatine had been. Just as Master Yoda and the other Jedi had been. It was all a trick made possible by the residual power inside the cave, feeding off his own doubts and his own guilt. But now, as he left the cave behind him and flew amongst the stars, their sheer beauty and majesty spread out before him, he could not deny it any longer. It was true.

Every single heartbreaking word that Bane had spoken was true.

It did not matter that his love for Padmé had saved him. It did not matter that Obi-Wan had taken his place and assumed the mantle of Darth Vader. It did not matter that Anakin had resisted the darkness within him for as long as he could. He had been marked by the Force to suffer this fate long before his birth, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The fog lifted, and for the first time in his life Anakin could see the clear picture of what he was supposed to do. The sheer agony that it caused him was too much to bear. Anakin closed his eyes in despair as he and his ship flew through space and time, a man torn between his fears, his guilt, and the call of a destiny that he could never escape.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Vader meets up with his master at the newly completed Death Star and is instructed to take the weapon out for its first mission. Will Vader's misgivings about the weapon be enough to stay his hand, or will he bow to the Emperor's wishes and unleash this unprecedented destructive Force upon the galaxy?_


	51. The Doctrine of Fear

Okay, after the shocking revelations of the last chapter (including, at long last, the real reason that this story is called **The Shadow of Vader**) we're ready to move on. Things are going to slow down for a few chapter, but they'll pick up again in time to go roaring towards the ultimate climax, so hang in there.

Thank you as well for all your wonderful reviews, they really make my day. It's great to see so many people coming back to this story.

* * *

**Chapter 51**

Darth Vader stood impatiently on the bridge of his flagship, the _Reaper_, his powerful arms crossed across his chest. The swirling vortex of hyperspace that danced beyond the forward viewport was breathtaking, but it held no charm for him. Hundreds of missions in the service of the Emperor had stripped him of any such affinity for nostalgia or simple enjoyment of his journey. The only thing that mattered was his destination and what awaited him there. In this case, it was an increasingly deranged old man eager to flaunt his newest toy to his faithful apprentice.

Ten seconds later, the vortex disappeared and the infinite lines condensed back into finite points. Captain Seti Roswall, who had been standing quietly behind the Sith Lord, cleared his throat and spoke steadily. "My Lord, we have arrived in the Horuz system."

"Thank you, Captain," Vader said shortly, choosing to overlook the relative pointlessness of the Captain's statement. Roswall was only trying to do his job, and since he was effective at that, Vader was prepared to grant him some leeway. "Send the message and request an approach vector."

"Yes, My Lord."

Vader's eyes narrowed beneath his mask, though it did little to improve the focus of his helmet's lenses. The last time he had been here, several years ago, this system had been buzzing with activity. Thousands of freighters carrying countless tons of refined ore had been traveling from the surface of the planet Despayre to the Death Star and back again. There had also a dozen Star Destroyers in the immediate vicinity to guard against any potential espionage missions or surprise attacks. Both the freighters and the Star Destroyers were gone now, and they weren't the only things missing. As Vader examined the vast stretch of space before him, he realized with a jolt that the planet was gone too. Where Despayre had once hung there was now a large stretch of asteroids and space dust.

As the pieces quickly fell into place in Vader's mind, he heard several of his normally reserved crew members swear loudly in amazement. One or two even jumped out of their seats. There, in the center of the viewport, emerging from around the edge of the asteroid field, was a vast spherical object that shone malevolently in the light of the distant sun.

_The Death Star_.

The symbol of the Emperor's power was at least a hundred and sixty kilometers in diameter, the size of a small moon. It was almost a perfect sphere, slightly wider at the middle, along which ran a kilometer-wide equatorial trench. Covered entirely in quadanium steel, the hull itself was nearly impenetrable. According to the schematics, the Death Star carried a crew of approximately two hundred and fifty thousand, not counting supplemental personnel such as ground troopers, pilots, maintenance workers and droids. It had ten thousand turbolaser batteries, twenty-five hundred ion cannons, and seven hundred tractor beams. It also carried seven thousand TIE fighters and a full complement of assault cruisers, shuttles, and drop ships. But all of this impressive armament paled in comparison to the most fearsome weapon of all: the superlaser. Powered by the station's enormous core reactor and channeled through a focusing disk many kilometers wide, the superlaser complex was capable of producing an immense proton beam that could rip through even the strongest protective shield and obliterate an entire planet.

Even Vader, who had traveled further and seen more than almost anyone else in the galaxy, was taken aback. Privately, he had harbored doubts that the massive space station would be completed in the twenty years that he had been told was the original time table. To see it here now, fully operational, after only a quarter of that time almost defied comprehension.

The construction process had been a titanic drain on even the Empire's vast financial resources and manpower. It had cost trillions of credits and probably several million lives as well. Had Vader been in charge, he would have deemed the tradeoff too high and scrapped the project long ago. His master, clearly, had entertained no such reservations.

Vader was so intently focused on the massive space station before him that he almost failed to notice Roswall coming up behind him. The Captain spoke hesitantly. "My Lord, the Emperor has been informed of our arrival in-system and desires an immediate audience with you."

Vader pulled himself away from the viewport and began to stride along the bridge towards the turbolift.

"Prepare my shuttle."

"At once, My Lord."

* * *

The short journey from the _Reaper_ to the Death Star passed quickly. Vader, who had refused a pilot in favor of flying the craft himself, expertly directed his shuttle through the outlying edge of the asteroid field towards the appointed hanger bay. Once he was close enough, one of the stations tractor beams took control and smoothly guided his ship the rest of the way.

As the ramp touched down and Vader descended, he noted the size of the delegation assembled to meet him. There was a full legion of stormtroopers standing at rapt attention, flanking both sides of his path. Standing closest to his shuttle was a large number of bureaucrats and expensively-robed advisors, who bowed low and murmured praise as the Dark Lord of the Sith passed them by. Beneath his helmet, Vader rolled his eyes in disgust. His master was sparing no expense in flaunting his power.

A quarter of the way down the aisle he was met a stiff-looking officer wearing the uniform of an admiral. He bowed low as Vader approached, and the Dark Lord acknowledged the gesture by declining to pick up the man with the Force and throw him out of his way. He stopped a few paces short, fixing the officer with a cold stare as he waited for the introduction.

"Lord Vader," The man held his military composure well, but through the Force Vader could easily tell that he wished the honor of greeting the Emperor's legendary apprentice had been given to someone else. "We are honored to welcome you to the Death Star."

"The honor is mine," Vader answered. The flat monotone of his mechanically modulated voice filtered out the intended sarcasm. "I understand that the Emperor is waiting for me."

"Yes, he is in his personal chambers," the officer told him. "I can escort you there …"

Vader brushed past him, heading for the turbolift at the far end of the hanger. "That will not be necessary."

He could sense the officer's relief pervading the Force. Obviously, he had been dreading being sealed alone inside a turbolift with the Dark Lord of the Sith. Vader smiled bitterly under his mask. The man was quite justified in his apprehension – the Imperial Navy had not become the most feared military branch in the galaxy because of its leader's merciful nature.

Vader boarded the turbolift and rode it to the topmost level. It was easy to find his way to the Emperor's chambers; through their bond his master's dark glee was a stain in the Force which Vader could not ignore. In less than five minutes, he was standing before an ornately carved door flanked by two tall, red-robed members of the Emperor's Royal Guard. The guards tensed as he came around the corner and raised their staves, but when they saw Vader they nodded and stood aside to allow him passage. Vader swept by them without a word, entered yet another turbolift, and ascended to his master's throne room.

The throne room was expansive and dark. The only light at the moment came from the bright array of stars visible through the large viewport behind the throne. The Emperor was seated there, conversing in low tones with someone whose face Vader could not discern.

Palpatine, sensing his apprentice's proximity, looked up from the deliberations and smiled. "Ah, Lord Vader, at last. Come, join us."

Vader obediently approached the throne, ascending two flights of stairs. He hid his annoyance at the relatively shallow ploy in the room's construction: having to constantly travel upwards to reach the Emperor was supposed to grant the ruler of the galaxy yet another layer of superiority and convey upon his servants a feeling of insignificance. Vader, who intimately knew all of his master's flaws and weaknesses as well as his mindset, was not affected.

The man with whom Palpatine had been conferring straightened up, exposing his hard, angular face to the light from the viewport. Vader's lip curled into a sneer beneath his mask. It was Tarkin.

Governor Tarkin was now _Moff_ Tarkin, the first member of a new order recently established by the Emperor to exert his personal will over troublesome sectors of the galaxy. Tarkin had, in fact, advised the Emperor on the creation of such an office. His ruthless nature, brilliant tactical mind, and unswerving devotion to the Emperor's ideals had quickly earned him a spot among the highest of the Empire's elite. Below the Emperor, only Vader himself, the Grand Vizier Sate Pestage, and the Chief of the Imperial Ruling Council Ars Dangor held higher ranks. Vader suspected, however, that between Pestage's and Dangor's relatively limited mindsets and his own growing disillusionment with his master's vision for the Empire, Tarkin might have more influence on the Emperor than any of them. He had been one of the biggest advocates for accelerating the construction of the Death Star, and Palpatine had clearly listened.

Vader stopped about ten paces away from the throne and bowed as shallowly as he could without descending into blatant disrespect. "You summoned me, My Master?"

"Yes, I did," Palpatine said smoothly. "I recalled you as quickly as possible upon completion of your mission to Coprighin 5 because I wanted you to bear witness to the completion of the greatest weapon this galaxy has ever seen."

"A great occasion," Vader said flatly. "It is truly impressive."

And it was, he thought to himself. Whatever else he thought about the Death Star and its purpose, he had to admit that it was a marvel of modern engineering and a testament to the power of the Empire. Given that he had believed construction of something so grandiose to be impossible, he was not going to refuse to grant his master credit for being insane enough to pull it off.

"It will be even more impressive once we reveal it to the rest of the galaxy," Palpatine chuckled. "The mere sight of such a weapon will strike more fear into the hearts of our enemies than the entirety of the Imperial Fleet."

Vader folded his arms across his chest. "What does the Imperial Senate think about this? Surely they will attempt to incite some sort of protest."

"We no longer need to worry about that, my friend," the Emperor told him carelessly. "The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I have recently seen fit to dissolve the council permanently."

Despite the outwardly important nature of this new development, Vader was not at all surprised. The Imperial Senate had been redundant, bordering on completely useless, for several years now. He had been in favor of abolishing it long ago, but the Emperor had maintained it for the sole purpose of allowing him to easily keep tabs on his enemies. Finally having attained a weapon as potent as the Death Star, his master's slim concerns that the simpering group of power-mongers and Alliance sympathizers could pose any threat to him had clearly been alleviated.

"So then the last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away?"

"Precisely." It was not Palpatine who answered him, but Tarkin. "The regional governors now have direct control over territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station."

_Ah_, Vader thought to himself. _So after all this time, the Tarkin Doctrine is about to become standard Imperial policy._

The doctrine in question bore both the name and the nature of its ruthless creator. Tarkin, frustrated at having to deal with cumbersome political procedures and fleet movements when dealing with an uprising, had written a series of articles on his ideas and presented them to Palpatine. The articles had made a lasting impression on the Emperor and helped to usher in an era of sweeping change. The overlying message of the Tarkin Doctrine was perfectly in line with the two men's penchant for callous efficiency: _Rule through the fear of force rather than force itself. If we use our strength wisely, we shall cow thousands of worlds with the example of a select few._

Vader did not agree with the principles of the Tarkin Doctrine. He believed that making a brutal and public example of a rebel world would have the opposite effect that his master intended. It would increase sympathy for the Alliance, and possibly even turn the deceased victims into martyrs. Vader had known the leaders of the Alliance very, very well, and he knew that Padmé and Bail would not be intimidated by such vicious and bloodthirsty tactics. The Alliance was built on an _idea_, and guided by the light of hope. If it was to be crushed, the idea needed to be destroyed, not the people who held it. The war needed to become personal, invading the very souls of their enemies, until the light they lived by was no longer strong enough to hold back the inevitable darkness. Vader made it his mission to extinguish that light wherever he went.

The people of the galaxy were citizens of the Empire, and the Empire was built on their shoulders. They needed to recognize that no matter what else they though of it, it was there to ensure that all citizens of the galaxy would be able to live in peace and stability. Their welfare was essential. His master did not understand this; he believed that the government existed to cater to his whims, and its structure was set up accordingly. That was why the Empire needed a new direction, and possibly a new leader as well.

"The Death Star shall be the symbol of the Empire, My Lord," Tarkin proclaimed, bowing to the Emperor. "The fear such a weapon will inspire will be great enough for you to rule the Galaxy unchallenged."

"Don't be too proud of this technological terror that you have constructed," Vader said coldly. Though he was speaking to Tarkin, his dark gaze was fixed directly on his master, intent on reminding him of the real reason he ruled the galaxy. "The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force."

The Emperor smiled, a cold expression that did not reach his yellowed eyes. "I understand your misgivings, Lord Vader," he said. "But I do hope that you will learn to overcome them. Times change."

Vader gave no sign of disappointment or submission. He returned his master's stare, asserting that he remained unswayed and unimpressed. The tension between master and apprentice was almost tangible.

Finally, Palpatine turned to Tarkin. "I believe it's time we demonstrated the full power of this weapon. Despayre was hardly a sufficient test; after such extensive mining, the planet was stripped to the core."

"I concur, My Lord," Tarkin said. Though he gave little sign of it, Vader could sense the man's cruel eagerness pulsing through the Force. A wave of disgust swept through him. "Have you chosen a target?"

"Yes," Palpatine replied. He manipulated a control panel on the arm of his throne, and the holographic image of a large, peaceful-looking world shone out of the projector. "Dantooine. Our scouts report that it is the home of one of the Alliance's largest and most important strongholds. Depriving them of it would be a devastating blow."

Vader surveyed the planet's image and the information that accompanied it. From what he could see, Dantooine was uninhabited by sentient life aside from the several thousand Alliance soldiers and sympathizers who had made their base there. While he hardly thought the Death Star was needed to conquer such a planet, he was acutely aware that it could have been worse. He had feared that his master would choose a heavily populated world in the Core. His heart relaxed, and he let out a mental sigh of relief.

Tarkin, on the other hand, had an expression on his face that suggested he had discovered a large worm in an otherwise ripe and delicious piece of fruit.

"Your Majesty," he entreated, a hint of a plea evident in his voice. "Surely Dantooine is far too remote for an effective demonstration …"

"Oh, you needn't worry, my friend," Palpatine assured him, an evil smile passing over his lips. "There will be others."

Vader felt the uncomfortable tightness around his heart return. Tarkin, though his disappointment was still evident, appeared to be satisfied.

"Now," Palpatine said in a brisk, business-like manner, "I must return to Imperial Center to attend to certain matters of state. Lord Vader, I am placing this station at your command. You will travel to Dantooine and subdue the Rebels there. If they refuse to bow before us …" his eyes flickered with a blood-red tinge, "then annihilate them utterly."

Vader bowed. "As you wish, My Master."

"You may go," Palpatine said casually, and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

All too glad to be out of his master's presence, Vader straightened up and strode from the room, his black cape billowing behind him.

As soon as the Dark Lord was out of sight, Tarkin leaned down and whispered in the Emperor's ear. "Your Majesty, are you sure that Lord Vader will carry out your will in this matter? He clearly believes that the Death Star is an unnecessary tool."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed as he stared at the door through which his apprentice had disappeared.

"Lord Vader no longer has a will of his own," he said coldly. "He lives for nothing but to serve the Empire. And the Empire is _mine_."

* * *

From the command center above the main hanger, Darth Vader watched as the Emperor boarded his personal shuttle amid a great deal of ceremony. One by one, a parade of rich, devoted bureaucrats and their advisors knelt before the supreme ruler of the galaxy and paid their respects to him in long, eloquent, and no doubt carefully rehearsed speeches. What an honor it was to be invited to the unveiling of the Empire's greatest weapon! Victory was now all but assured! How wonderful his Imperial Majesty looked, and may he rule for many years to come! After that the various military commanders gave their own sendoffs, which were mercifully shorter but just as contrived. The Emperor could have easily done without such pointless drabble, but from the dark satisfaction that pervaded the Force, it appeared as though Palpatine was enjoying it.

Hidden beneath the soulless exterior of his mask, Vader's mouth was twisted into a sneer of absolute contempt. This disgusting display of political fawning was exactly the sort of thing that Palpatine had promised to eliminate from his government. It was sickening to see how much the perks of holding absolute power had corrupted his master. If something was not done, and done quickly, corruption would soon run as rampant within the Empire as it had in the Old Republic. Vader would _not_ allow that to happen. He would personally behead every greedy, twisted sycophant in the Imperial Cabinet if that was what it took to ensure a just government for the galaxy.

After fifteen standard minutes of fanfare, Palpatine boarded his shuttle and swept out into space, leaving the formidable and devastating weapon known as the Death Star in the capable hands of his apprentice …

"Lord Vader, the Death Star is ready to begin its mission."

… And his cold-hearted, blood-thirsty stooge.

Vader spun around abruptly to look directly into the steely face of Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. Tarkin returned the Dark Lord's stare without the slightest appearance of intimidation. As had been the case five years ago, it could not be more evident that Tarkin believed that he and Vader stood on equal footing. Vader was going to have disabuse him of that twisted notion extremely quickly, or else the tension between them would escalate into an all-out war. He doubted that the Emperor would be forgiving if he learned that his apprentice had willingly strangled the man who had inspired and directed his pet project.

Tarkin inclined his head towards Vader, a gesture that seemed to be more in accordance with procedure than respectful. "The coordinates for Dantooine are set. I can give the order to go to light speed at any time."

Vader raised an eyebrow, a habitual gesture that not even five years spent behind a mask had been able to shake. "And are you merely informing me of this, or do you intend to ask for my authorization?"

Tarkin's steel-grey eyes flickered in cold amusement. "This station is under my command."

"The station may be under your command, Moff Tarkin," Vader said threateningly, "But I am the one in command of this mission. Therefore, you will execute my orders to their fullest extent, or you will suffer the same consequences that any officer under me would suffer for incompetence."

If Tarkin was in any way unnerved by Vader's open challenge, he did an excellent job of concealing it. He merely allowed his thin lips to curl into a harsh smile. "If your orders reflect the will of this Empire, Lord Vader, then I foresee no problems between us."

The Dark Lord stared icily at Tarkin for a few more moments, then swept past him towards the door. "Then by all means, take us to light speed, Moff Tarkin."

Tarkin casually made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "The order has already been given."

The Dark Side of the Force roiled within Vader's heart, begging him to call upon it and unleash its power. Vader resisted the urge, but he felt no desire to quell it as he looked back over his shoulder at the arrogant Moff gazing out at the swirling vortex of stars beyond the viewport. This little partnership was not going to end well.

* * *

The journey to Dantooine passed quickly. In just six standard hours, the Death Star reverted to real space in the outlying regions of the target system. A short distance away, Dantooine gleamed through the central viewport like a great green jewel. No cities marred its surface, and no pollution fogged its atmosphere. Large stretches of grasslands, mountains, rivers, and oceans comprised the surface. It was a peaceful, pastoral world.

All that was about to be shattered.

Darth Vader and Moff Wilhuff Tarkin stood side by side, neither one looking at the other or speaking. The officers on the command deck, seeming to sense the tension between the two leaders, kept their heads down and bustled about their work. Two full minutes passed during which the only sound was the endless hiss of Vader's mechanical respirator. Finally, one of the captains cleared his throat and nervously approached the brooding pair.

"Our sensors show increased activity at a concentrated location near the equator. We believe it is the Rebel base. The communications frequencies we have detected are ones often used by the Alliance."

"Good," Tarkin said briskly. "Then they know that we're here."

Of course they did, Vader thought sourly. It was hard not to notice when a foreign object the size of a moon appeared in your system. The Rebels had to be in full panic mode, trying desperately to muster up their forces in case an attack was launched. Not that it would do them any good. They had absolutely no idea what they were up against.

"They appear to be trying to hail us," the captain informed them. "Shall we respond?"

Tarkin snorted. "What for? It will only take a few minutes to charge the superlaser …"

"Yes," Vader cut him off unceremoniously. "Yes, we will respond."  
Tarkin looked at the Dark Lord, his hard face frozen in an expression of incredulity. "What? Why? What possible point …"

Vader cut him off again, ignoring the blunt disrespect that Tarkin was demonstrating. "Get the Rebel commander on a secure line. Tell him that he has no hope of evacuation and certainly no hope of victory. If he does not surrender unconditionally, he and all of his subordinates face immediate and total destruction."

Tarkin's eyes looked as though they were about to pop right out of their owner's gaunt head. "Vader, you cannot be serious! We are here to demonstrate the power of this station …"

"And we are," Vader snapped, ruthlessly silencing the furious Moff a third time. "If the Rebels capitulate, then we will have not only subdued a key enemy stronghold without a fight, but we will have several thousand important prisoners to interrogate. One of them may hold information about the Alliance's elusive headquarters. You advocated using this station as an instrument of fear, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

Tarkin's mouth opened and then closed. It seemed as though his fury was robbing him of his ability to speak. Turning away from him, Vader addressed the captain. "Have you informed him of his situation?"

"Yes," the captain nodded. "He refuses to surrender without a fight. He is preparing to launch fighters."

_Fool_, Vader thought to himself savagely. _Bloody, reckless fool._

"Get him back on the line," he snapped. "I want to talk to him personally."

The captain's face paled. He obviously knew what was coming. "Yes, My Lord. At once."

Vader placed himself in front of the communications monitor, drawing himself up to his full height. The display would only show him from the shoulders up, but intimidation was going to be crucial if he was going to make the commander see sense.

Two seconds later, the rebel commander, a tough-looking man in his mid-fifties with several scars on his face and a patch over his right eye appeared on the screen. He appeared to be focused and full of defiance, but both of those attitudes slipped considerably when he saw that he was facing off against the legendary Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Vader!" he snapped, holding himself as straight as he could. Battle-tested though he was, Vader didn't need the Force to sense the fear stirring in the commander's heart. "I don't care what tricks you pull or what threats you make. No one here will ever bow down before you or your treacherous Emperor!"

"Well then, perhaps you will bow down to logic," Vader said coldly. "Here are the facts, Commander. You have absolutely nothing in your arsenal to compete with the firepower that I have under my command. If you insist on pursuing your chosen course of action, then you and every one under your command with be dead in a few short moments. I will authorize this station to completely destroy the planet."

The commander's defiant face paled. "That's not possible. You're bluffing, Vader."

"Am I?" the Dark Lord asked casually. "Captain, begin the start-up sequence."

He heard the captain give an order, and a live feed of the firing control room appeared on the monitor opposite Vader, clearly visible to the Rebel commander. A series of hushed whispers came over the channel as the commander's subordinate officers looked in. The commander's already pale face turned stark white, but he held his ground. "We will not surrender!"

"Listen to me, you nearsighted fool," Vader hissed, darkness rising about him. "I am offering you one last chance. If you recall your fighters, shut down your defenses, and surrender unconditionally, then you will all be spared. You will be taken into Imperial custody, where I promise you will be treated well. If you refuse, then you and your several thousand fellow Rebels will become nothing more than space dust floating amidst the ruins of Dantooine. What is your answer?"

The commander seemed to have been struck dumb. His good eye was staring fixedly at the live image of the firing room, and a bead of sweat trickled down his face.

"My Lord, we are at fifty percent firing capacity," the captain informed Vader.

The commander remained silent. The whispering of his subordinates, on the other hand, was approaching pure terror.

"Seventy percent … eighty percent … ninety percent …"

Vader stared icily at his opponent. "Last chance, Commander."

The commander licked his dry lips in fear. Sweat was now pouring down his face.

"My Lord, the Death Star's primary weapon is fully charged."

"All right!" the commander cried out desperately. "All right! We'll surrender!"

"Very well." Vader did not gloat at all over his victory. He merely allowed the tension that had been building up in his limbs to fade away. "We are sending down drop ships now. I expect all fighters to be recalled and all your base's defense systems to be shut down within five minutes, or I will be forced to reconsider my position."

The commander's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Our forces are standing down now."

"Good," Vader told him. "We shall be seeing you shortly."

The connection was severed. Vader turned back to face the bridge and was pleased to see that the captain was already implementing his orders. Tarkin, on the other hand, was staring determinedly out the viewport at Dantooine, the expression on his face bitter and calculating.

Vader ignored him. He didn't have time to watch the man sulk. Instead, he approached the captain, who was standing about ten paces away from the Moff, also looking out the viewport.

"What is the ETA for our drop ships?"

"They are leaving our hangers now," the captain responded. "They should be entering the atmosphere momentarily."

"And the Rebels?"

"They are complying with your demands, My Lord. Their defensive grid is completely shut down."

Vader nodded. "Very good, Captain. Continue to oversee the transition, and inform me when the prisoners are secured and ready for interrogation. I am going to contact the Emperor."

The captain bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

Vader turned and was about to exit the command center when he heard Tarkin's harsh voice ring out for the first time in several minutes.

"Has the Death Star's superlaser been discharged yet?"

The captain shook his head. "No, Sir. We believed it prudent to wait in case the Rebels showed any signs of treachery."

"Good," Tarkin proclaimed. "Then we are on schedule. Continue with the operation. You may fire when ready."

Vader spun around so fast that his armored boots left a dark skid mark on the floor. "What?"

Tarkin turned to face the Dark Lord, his gaunt face filled with savage triumph. "That was a brilliant example of intimidation tactics, Lord Vader, but I'm afraid that our objective remains unfulfilled. We have yet to test this station's full destructive power."

Dark rage seized Vader's heart. "Our objective, Moff Tarkin, was to subdue the Rebels. We have done so. There is no need to destroy the planet."

He turned to face the captain. "The Death Star will stand down now!"

"Belay that!" Tarkin proclaimed. "We shall fire as planned."

Vader marched directly towards Tarkin so that they were less than a meter apart. "_I_ am in command here, Tarkin. You undermine my authority again, and I can assure you that you shall pay the price of treason."

"I cannot be guilty of treason," Tarkin countered, "because my actions are in accordance with the will of the Emperor. He wants Dantooine to be destroyed so that the galaxy will know the power we possess!"

Vader's mask was now inches from Tarkin's face. "I was under the impression, Tarkin, that you advocated a doctrine of _fear_, not a doctrine of idiocy. You are twisting the Emperor's words to suit your own purpose." He looked hard at the captain, who was pale as a sheet and shaking, quintessentially trapped between a rock and a hard place. "Stand down! That's an order!"

"I appointed you so that you would follow _my_ orders!" Tarkin bellowed. "Tell the gunners to fire!"

On the live screen image of firing control, the gunner's hand was frozen on the lever. The captain looked as though he were about to collapse. He looked fearfully at Vader, whose deathly black mask spoke volumes about what awaited him if he did not obey.

"Stand down!"

The captain spun to face the gunners. "You heard Lord Vader! Stand down! _Stand down!_"

The gunner hesitated, then turned his visor towards Tarkin. Teeth bared in triumph, the Moff nodded, and the gunner pulled the lever.

"NO!"

Vader spun towards the viewport, but it was too late.

The lights of the command center flickered as twenty enormous beams of energy shot from their emitters and converged to form one massive ray several kilometers wide. There was a moment where it simply hung in space … then it shot forward at the speed of light and collided with Dantooine's surface.

A light brighter than that of a thousand suns filled the viewport, temporarily blinding everyone in the command center. Vader's lenses filtered out the worst of the radiation, but he could not close himself off from the Force. A wave of agony and death swept over him, stronger than anything he had ever felt, even during the purge of the Jedi Temple. His ears rang and his heart throbbed as a million voices cried out in terror, and then ….

Silence.

As the light faded, all the occupants of the command center turned to look out the viewport. They were greeted by a scene of carnage. Burning chunks of rock the size of cities tumbled freely through space as the last vestiges of the planet's atmosphere were consumed. A thick cloud of space dust obscured the system's sun. Where the planet and once hung in orbit there was now what appeared to be an immense asteroid field, devoid of anything that resembled life. Dantooine had been utterly destroyed.

For several seconds, an awed hush filled the room as the Imperials beheld the devastation their weapon had unleashed. It did not last.

Vader reached into the Force and seized the petrified gunner just as he was attempting to rise from his chair. The man's neck broke with a sickening snap. Vader flung the dead body out of sight and rounded on Moff Tarkin, who was attempting to quickly edge away from the furious Dark Lord of the Sith. Not quickly enough.

Vader's armored hand shot out, seized Tarkin brutally by the throat and threw him hard to the floor. The breath was torn from the Moff's lungs and a loud _crack_ could be heard as he collided with the durasteel, likely an indication that one or more of his ribs had been broken. Wheezing, Tarkin attempted to clamber back to his feet, but a heavy foot descended upon his chest, forcing him back down. There was a _snap-hiss_, and suddenly the Moff was forced to hold himself quite still because the red blade of Vader's lightsaber was being held a centimeter from his throat.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the mechanical rush of Vader's respirator and Tarkin's ragged gasps. The air in the room seemed to have frozen. Then Vader spoke in a low, terrifying hiss, every syllable tinged with death.

"Give me one reason … _one reason_ … why I should not kill you now."

Tarkin glared up at Vader, a small amount of blood running from the corner of his mouth onto the collar of his impeccably crisp uniform. When he spoke, however, his voice was as harsh and as arrogant as ever.

"I carried out the Emperor's will," he snarled. "I need no further justification."

"The Emperor is not here, Tarkin," Vader said icily. "He entrusted me with this mission. The Death Star was only to be used at my discretion."

"Do you really believe that Emperor would trust you to carry out the mission as he envisioned it?" Tarkin spat, more blood spraying onto his uniform. "He knows that you have been against deploying this station from the start. This was a test to see whether your stance on the matter had changed, and you failed, Lord Vader. You failed."

Cold anger poured into Vader's heart, mixed with the sting of a bitter revelation and the lingering tinge of death in the Force. It all made perfect sense now. His master had set him up. Once more taking up the tools of manipulation and treachery that had served him so well, he had forced his apprentice into a situation where he would have to choose between betraying his ideals and revealing his true mindset to the Emperor. Tarkin, ever the faithful lapdog, had been sent along to make sure that no matter what else happened, the Death Star would unleash its full destructive power. Clearly, Palpatine had suspected that his outwardly loyal and broken apprentice was harboring plans of his own, and had taken steps to regain the advantage.

Vader's lips curled into a bitter smile. So his master still had some common sense floating around amidst his insane delusions of power. He had underestimated the old fool. He would not make that mistake again.

Tarkin smiled harshly at the Dark Lord, clearly taking his silence for defeat. "So you see, Lord Vader, you have now demonstrated that your devotion to the Emperor is not at the level he expects from his closest servants. When we return to the capital, he will wish to see you, and I doubt that he will be pleased."

He looked over at the captain, whose pale face still wore an expression that suggested that he was about to be sick. "Set a course for Imperial Center. Contact the Emperor and tell him that Dantooine has been destroyed as he wished and that I will be available to give him the full report shortly."

The captain made no move. He was staring down at Tarkin with an expression boarding between pity and disgust. Tarkin, looking appalled that his order had been ignored, glared murderously at him and raised his voice.

"Did you hear me? I gave you an order!"

The captain still made no move to obey. Neither did any of the other officers on deck, all of whom had risen from their chairs and were staring at Tarkin as though he were a man condemned.

Tarkin's expression became livid. "This is my battle station!" he roared. "If you do not obey my orders, I will make sure that you are all executed as traitors!"

The captain, his color returning, looked to Vader. "What should we do, My Lord?"

Vader did not look at him, keeping his soulless stare fixed on Tarkin. "Set a course for Imperial Center. And get Security up here now."

Tarkin's bloodshot eyes widened in disbelief and he struggled furiously against Vader's hold. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Cold amusement was discernable in Vader's voice as he spoke. "This may be your battle station, Moff Tarkin, but I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. Where do you think their loyalties lie?"

Fear permeated off Tarkin through the Force, and his eyes darted about the command center, looking feverishly for an ally. The faces that stared back at him were as blank as stone. Realizing with horror that he was completely alone and defenseless, he tried to edge away from the lightsaber which still hovered over his throat. Vader's foot pressed down harder, trapping him.

"Treachery is a dangerous game, Moff Tarkin," Vader told him. "If you are not prepared for the consequences, then sooner or later you will face death."

The door opened, and four stormtroopers bearing the badge of the 501st legion entered. They approached the Dark Lord and saluted, waiting for orders. Vader deactivated his lightsaber, removed his foot from Tarkin's chest, and gestured towards him. "Get him up."

Two of the stormtroopers roughly seized the Moff under his arms and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. Tarkin, wincing from his broken ribs, furiously tried to pull himself free, but the troopers held him in an iron grip. The cold muzzle of a blaster rifle touched his back.

Vader looked directly into Tarkin's eyes as he addressed the squad leader. "Take him down to the detention area. Moff Tarkin will be spending the journey back to Imperial Center in a maximum-security cell."

The trooper nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

Tarkin, his ragged breathing becoming even more agitated, pulled even harder at his restraining bonds, but all his efforts were futile. Eyes burning with unspeakable rage, he glared murderously at the Dark Lord of the Sith, who was showing no outward signs of triumph over his opponent's humiliation and ruin.

"The Emperor shall hear of this!" he spat.

In response, Vader ignited his lightsaber again. Slowly, deliberately, he brought it up to Tarkin's face, stopping a few centimeters short of his left eye. Tarkin, his fear now painfully obvious, seemed paralyzed as Vader slowly traced the tip of his molten glade over the Moff's gaunt cheek. Tarkin gasped in pain as his skin charred and burned before finally melting away, leaving a long, ugly scar. Vader stared impassively at Tarkin for a few more moments, then deactivated his blade and gestured towards his guards to take the stricken prisoner away. The Dark Lord of the Sith turned to face the ruins of Dantooine through the viewport, his hidden face carrying a look of cold resolve.

"I trust that he will."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** _Anakin, still reeling from his devastating revelation on Dagobah, returns to the Alliance fleet and reunites with his wife. The two will discuss where things stand in the galaxy as Padme tries to help her husband through his despair. Bail arrives with the twins, and Anakin and Padme get to see their children for the first time in years._


	52. Reunion

Welcome back! As always, I loved reading all your responses.

It seems that Moff Wilhuff Tarkin has joined the ignoble pantheon of 'Characters We Love to Hate', fitting in very nicely between Jedi Master Pablo-Jill and Asajj Ventress. Alas, those two delightfully foul souls have passed on (rather violently, I might add) but Tarkin, despite being down, is not out yet. You will see him again, mark my words.

Please forgive me for not doing individual replies, as I am trying to get as much writing done as I can before I leave for a week on vacation this Thursday. I probably won't have access to the Internet while I'm away, but if I get enough work in I should have a post or two ready for you when I get back!

Enjoy!

**EDIT**: The document system on this site deleted half my text. Again ...

* * *

**Chapter 52**

_Darkness swirled across his vision as he fought, trying desperately to free himself from the grip of the images that had seized his mind. They flashed by, too fast for him to respond, yet each one caused his heart to contract painfully. His limbs moved through predestined patterns, carrying him towards a destiny that had been foretold long ago. His enemies fell around him, shrieking in fear and anger. Behind him rose the massive roar of an invincible army, a billion souls following him without question. _

_His world was stained a dark red, and the heat of the living bodies around him was blinding, though not as blinding as the light of his avenging sword. An ancient power beckoned to him, it was his for the taking._

_He heard familiar voices around him, condemning him. Filled with fury at their betrayal, he lashed out with the tremendous power at his call and struck them down. Too late, their faces came into focus, and he watched with mounting horror as Padmé fell to the ground before him, her beautiful face filled with sadness and pain. The two small beings that she had been protecting rose up angrily and grew tall. They stood in his path, defying him, but he merely laughed. Slowly, the figures faded away as they bent to his will._

_He was back on Mustafar now, burning to death on the ashy slopes of the lava river. Above him stood Obi-Wan, looking grief-stricken but resolved. A wave of anger rose up inside him and he seized Obi-Wan's ankle, pulling him down into the fire. His master would share his fate …_

_Silently, he resisted the pull of the forces that held him, but the more he tried to break free, the more they tightened their grip. He could not escape. A cruel laugh was heard, and he was pulled into the void. A terrible feeling on compression seized him, but it quickly passed and he emerged from the darkness above a vast, star-lit galaxy. On the surface of a thousand suns he saw his face reflected back at him, covered in a dark mask. His darkness consumed the light of the stars, and as he blacked out he heard the cruel voice once more._

_The Shadow of Vader looms over you, Anakin Skywalker …_

Anakin jerked himself awake and sat up so fast he nearly slammed his head into the forward panel of the cockpit. His entire body was covered with a cold sweat, and he was breathing heavily as though he had just narrowly escaped death by running several kilometers uphill. He felt sick to his stomach, and his vision was blurred. The lingering sound of a scream buzzed in his ears, through he could not be sure if it was real or if it was a product of his imagination.

Outside the cockpit the stars had returned, signaling that his ship had emerged from hyperspace. As Anakin struggled to regain full awareness of the galaxy, R2-D2 chirped over the comm frequency, helpfully informing him of this fact. Holding his aching head in his hand, Anakin pushed a few loose strands of hair out of his face and let out a deep breath. After a minute, his frantic heart rate had slowed to its normal pace, but the sick feeling that had invaded his stomach remained.

That feeling was not likely to leave him anytime soon. From the moment he had exited the cave on Dagobah, he had known that it would be this way. He had spent the vast majority of the twelve-hour transit through hyperspace in a numb stupor, eventually drifting into a tortured sleep. During that time he had relived every second of his experience. He had seen once more what could have been had he embraced the Dark Side in Palpatine's office five years ago. He had heard Bane's mocking voice, telling him that it was all inevitable. He had felt the same rage and horror that had gripped him when his actions had lead to him donning Vader's mask and identity. Most of all, he had dwelt on the wording of the Sith prophecy, and what it meant for him.

It seemed impossible that his life and his fate could be mapped out by words that had been inscribed on the wall of a forgotten tomb thousands of years before his birth. Nevertheless, Bane's cruelly evident reasoning could not be ignored. It explained everything, from the extraordinary circumstances of his conception to the path his life had taken. It provided an iron-clad reason why after all the efforts he had made to resist its pull, the Force continued to steer him towards the darkness. Though Bane had presented his case maliciously and clearly intended for these revelations to cause him terrible pain, that was no mitigating factor. Anakin knew acutely from personal experience that if one wanted to incite desperate agony, the truth was always more effective than lies.

Yet for all the questions Bane's revelation had answered, it had left him with one glaring uncertainty. What in the nine Corellian hells did he do now?

He couldn't call himself a Jedi, not after he had seen the look in Yoda's eyes. The Jedi had lied to him from the outset. Sensing that he had a dangerous destiny, they had sheltered him, hidden him, and held him back for as long as they possibly could. In doing so, they had hoped to shape him into a predictable force that they could control. Instead they had created a man capable of destroying them utterly. Anakin had never been meant to walk the path of the Jedi. They would been better served if they had left him in bondage on Tatooine. Yoda had known this, and the look of sad acceptance on his face had hurt Anakin as deeply as any of Bane's words. He found it hard to believe that the Jedi Master had ever managed to look him in the eye while condemning him every day for eighteen years to suffer under the shadow of an inevitable destiny. That conscious betrayal of trust far outstripped any loss that he had suffered at the hands of the Sith.

Despite that, however, he couldn't go to the Sith either. The visions that he had seen in the cave foreshadowed what awaited him if he embraced the prophecy. He would lose everything that he had ever loved, and the agony of that sacrifice would reshape him into a soulless fiend who was willing to destroy anything and everything to ensure order in his domain. Anakin Skywalker would completely cease to exist, and he would lose himself behind the mask of darkness, the face of suffering. Only a man who was willing to sacrifice every aspect of his humanity could wear the mantle of Lord Vader.

Obi-Wan had made that sacrifice. The reason that the galaxy now trembled at his name and bowed beneath his heel was that he had immersed himself completely in the shadow. It was impossible to separate the man beneath the armor from the legend that stood before it. He was the symbol of darkness, of hatred, of death. He was the manifestation of power. He had embraced his role so completely it seemed unbelievable that this fate was not what the Force had intended for him. The man who was supposed to be the bearer of light had become the master of darkness.

And the man who was supposed to be the master of darkness had been consumed by it.

There was only one place he knew that he could turn, one sanctuary that he knew remained to him. Over the years, countless forces had tried to tear them apart, but the love they shared had never wavered. Throughout it all, Padmé had remained strong, and her determined belief that they would pull through had kept Anakin going.

He could only hope that she would still be there for him now.

His destination, the Alliance frigate _Liberty_, gleamed in the center of his vision like a polished jewel. He had been vaguely surprised to find it still here; with the Empire hunting them, the leaders of the Alliance seldom remained in one place for more than a standard week. As Anakin guided his craft on an approach vector, he was hailed by the command ship.

"Unidentified craft, this is the _Liberty_. You are on an unauthorized flight path. Transmit proper clearance or turn back now."

Anakin suddenly remembered that he had turned off his signal beacon before leaving on his mission to Kuat. The last thing he had wanted was to be broadcasting Alliance identification codes while trying to infiltrate a heavily guarded Imperial world. Hastily, he turned the beacon back on. "How's that, Control?"

There was a brief silence, followed by the controller speaking again in a much more excited voice. "Jedi Skywalker, the Alliance Council has been eagerly awaiting your return. I'll inform them immediately; they'll want to debrief you."

Anakin ground his teeth together. He didn't want to sit through a debriefing right now, and he especially didn't want to have to justify his actions to the Council. All he wanted to get to Padmé as quickly as possible. He activated the comm once again. "Negative, Control. They can debrief me later. I have pressing business to attend to."

The poor officer sounded baffled. "But Sir, it's standard procedure …"

As subtly as he could, Anakin slipped the power of the Force into his words. "It's too late for them to debrief me now. The Council doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Of course, Sir," the officer replied monotonously. "The Council doesn't want to be disturbed. It's much too late."

"That's right," Anakin said. He knew that this was a flagrant abuse of his power, but after the hell he had just gone through, he didn't much care. "Just give me clearance to dock."

"Clearance granted to land in Hanger 4, sir."

Anakin smoothly guided his starfighter the remaining distance into the virtually empty hanger. He touched down, then sank into his seat as Artoo shut down all the auxiliary systems. It was only now that he realized just how exhausted he was. His sleep during the hyperspace transit had not been restful at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He popped the canopy, climbed down to the hanger floor, and helped to release Artoo from the droid's interface socket. The hanger was completely silent, with no technicians or droids wandering around. Anakin let out a small sigh of relief. In his current state of mind, he didn't want to be subjected to the stares and whispers of a hundred awed strangers. If he was going to have to talk right now, there was only one person that he wanted to listen.

Anakin set off purposefully with Artoo at his heels, moving quickly through the corridors to avoid any stragglers wandering the halls. Since the _Liberty_ was not in a planetary system at the moment, they were operating on galactic standard time. At nearly 0200 hours, the vast majority of the ship's crew would probably be asleep, but this was a military vessel, and Anakin wanted to take no chances. Once he had to quickly dodge into a side corridor to avoid an oncoming general and his lieutenant, but they were so deep in conversation that they failed to notice him.

After several minutes, Anakin found himself in front of the door to his and Padmé's quarters. There was no sound of activity within, and the corridor itself was silent as the grave. With practiced ease, he typed in the entry code and slid through the open door. Artoo followed him, beeping quietly.

The living area was almost completely dark. Anakin had expected this; Padmé was probably asleep. The only light came from a bluish glow emanating from the bedroom. As quietly as he could, Anakin made his way towards the open door at the far end and peered inside.

Padmé was there, lying fully clothed on the bed. Her head was tilted to one side, and her elegant brown hair was falling from its tightly wound bun to cascade loosely down her back. Her pale skin glowed softly in the blue light was emanating from the computer terminal on her desk. Though her eyes were closed, Anakin sensed that she was actually hovering in the misty realm between wakefulness and sleep. Nevertheless, as he watched her, he found himself mesmerized by the slow rising and falling of her breast, the way the loose strand of hair that fell across her mouth fluttered every time she breathed in and out, the way the light danced across her beautiful features. She looked so peaceful, and yet so fragile. He didn't want to move, fearful that the slightest disturbance would shatter the illusion of tranquility.

The urge to draw closer, however, was overwhelming. Carefully he stepped in and sat down on the edge of the mattress next to his wife. She did not stir. Anakin's heart was beating so fast that he was finding it difficult to breathe, and he had to reach out with the Force to steady it. He remained there, motionless, like a sentinel, for a stretch of time that could not have been more than a few minutes, but which felt as expansive as the rest of eternity.

_Is it possible_, he wondered to himself, _to love someone so much that you would be perfectly content just to watch them sleep for the rest of your life?_

The answer was yes, he told himself. If the all-powerful being who had created the universe eons ago were to appear to him right now and grant him his heart's desire, he would trade his life and his special destiny for the opportunity to sit right here beside his beloved Padmé and watch her be at peace.

But peace was impossible for her. As long as he was cursed with the fate he had been assigned to bear, he and Padmé would never truly be able to let themselves go free. The galaxy had seen fit to bring them together, but if the will of the Force was to be followed, they could not end their journeys further apart. Padmé was a beacon of light, of hope, to billions of sentient beings. She had made it her mission to fight for the downtrodden, to raise up the weak, to ensure that everyone in the galaxy had the opportunity for their voice to be heard, for their life to mean something. He, on the other hand, was a herald of the coming darkness, destined to kill, to hurt, to bend the minds of others to his will. It seemed impossible that two such radically different people could share a love so intense that its passion burned brighter than a thousand stars, yet Anakin knew that with every passing moment, it was giving him the strength he needed to keep going. Padmé was the reason that he had resisted the call for so long, and for her sake he would continue to resist it for as long as he could. She did not deserve the agony of watching the man she loved disappear behind the mask of Darth Vader forever.

But while their love had enough strength to endure the crushing pull of destiny until the end of time, Anakin knew that he did not. Sooner or later if he did not find a way to escape his fate, he would either fall under its shadow, or else be destroyed utterly.

Slowly, carefully, Anakin reached out with his left hand and brushed the loose strand of hair away from Padmé's face. His hand lingered for a moment on her smooth cheek, and in that moment his skin was alive with sensation, as though he were being burned and frozen simultaneously. Padmé stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anakin thought he felt her relax through the Force. He allowed himself to remain still for a moment, savoring her presence, then as carefully as he had placed it there, he drew his hand away.

Anakin stood up and turned his attention to the glowing blue screen of the computer, intending to turn it off so that the light did not disturb his wife. Clearly, Padmé had been working long into the night before she had surrendered to sheer exhaustion. The data on the screen appeared to be a series of reports on various Rebel affairs, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a report on the Leader, the mysterious being who had seized control of Coruscant's underworld. Less than a day ago, according to Rebel intelligence, the Leader and his band had broken into a munitions depot and made off with hundreds of tons of high-octane explosives. Anakin frowned. Such a bold move was usually the precursor to a major assault.

As Anakin was about to investigate further, he heard a soft voice call out his name.

"Anakin …"

Anakin froze. As slowly as he could, he turned his head to look back at Padmé. His wife was stirring more fitfully now, but Anakin could not tell if she were about to wake up or if she were merely in the throes of a dream. He held his breath, not wanting to disturb her either way.

Padmé's eyes slid open, then fluttered rapidly as they tried to regain their focus. She seemed to be disoriented, and cast her gaze around the room for something to ground herself. It settled on the tall, shadowy form of her husband, standing motionless at the foot of the bed.

"Anakin?" Padmé repeated. The tone of her voice was hopeful, as though she could not be sure if she were still in a dream. "Is that you?"

Anakin let out the breath he had been holding. He didn't know whether to be relieved or saddened that he had accidentally roused his wife from her sleep, but it didn't matter now. Reaching out with the Force, he activated the bedside lamp so that she could see him more clearly and smiled.

"Hey, Angel," he whispered softly.

Padmé sprang up from the mattress faster than Anakin would have thought possible and flung herself into his arms. Anakin caught her and held her small form close to his body, never wanting to let go.

"Where have you been?" Padmé gasped, her hot breath tickling his ear. "When do you get back? We hadn't heard anything from you in over two weeks and I was so worried …"

"It's all right, Angel," Anakin told her soothingly, burying his face in her soft hair. "I just got back now. I'm sorry that I had you so worried."

"Why didn't you call?" Padmé asked, still holding him tightly. "It would have been so much better if I'd just known that you were all right."

"Complications arose," Anakin told her. He didn't want to tell her too much, not when the burden of what he had done and what he had heard still rested so heavily on his shoulders. "I couldn't get a message to you without jeopardizing your safety …"

Padmé pulled back from him abruptly. In the warmer light of the bedside lamp, Anakin could see her features more clearly. She looked … angry.

"_My_ safety?" she echoed, a hint of sarcasm evident in her voice. "Ani, what the hell were you thinking worrying about _my_ safety? You took off from here and went on an unbelievably dangerous mission into Imperial territory without telling _anyone_, including me, where you were going! The only reason I even I knew that you were still alive was because Kothla Tral'fey told me you had been spotted breaking into a high-security garrison on Kuat, and I knew that if you'd been killed the Imperial HoloNet would be having a field day! And that was three days ago; God knows _what_ you've been doing since then! Meanwhile, I've been sitting here, a nervous wreck, terrified every time the comm goes off because it might be someone calling to tell me that the Emperor has captured you! So how about the next time you want to be concerned about _my_ safety, you think about your own first so that I don't drive myself _insane_!"

Anakin was shocked at the veracity of her outburst. It had been completely unexpected. Of course he had deserved it, but that didn't do anything to ease his already battered mind. His jaw seemed to have forgotten how to work; slowly he tried to force it to form words.

"Padmé … I …"

"You _what_?" Padmé snapped, her brown eyes blazing with a fury that he had only ever seen before in battle. "I don't want to hear excuses, Anakin, and I don't want to hear dismissals. The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth right now is a damn good explanation for what you were doing and what you were thinking in deciding to vanish into thin air for two weeks without telling me a _thing_!"

Padmé's anger was radiating off of her now, and it kindled Anakin's own. He didn't want to explain what he had done to her when he knew that what he had to say would only incense her further. She couldn't possibly understand what he had had to go through, she couldn't even hope to fathom the horror that he had only just begun to live with …

"I went to Kuat to track down an Imperial Consul," he said forcefully. "I wanted to find out why he was becoming so influential. I didn't tell anyone because I knew that they would try to stop me from going."

"With good reason!" Padmé exclaimed. "Anakin, that kind of operation requires extensive planning and a team of trained agents …"

"I didn't need any help," Anakin said coldly. "I happen to be very good at what I do."

"And what was that?" Padmé snapped furiously. "What was so important that it was worth risking your life like that?"

"The Imperial Consul was a spy!" Anakin shouted, his anger boiling over. "He had been tracking your movements for months! Not only that, he had found out about our children, where we had hidden them, and how they were protected! He was this close to going to the Emperor and telling him _everything_!"

Padmé looked as though she'd just been slapped across the face. She took a step backward, her eyes widening in fear and her mouth hanging slightly open. When she found her voice, she spoke in a half-whisper. "No, that can't be true …"

"Oh, it's true," Anakin said icily, his eyes flashing. "I went through the scum's entire database. He'd been onto us for three years."

Padmé's hands rose unconsciously to her mouth. "What did you do?" she asked hesitantly.

Anakin looked directly into her eyes. "What do you _think_ I did, Padmé?"

Padmé sat down on the edge of the bed, the strength seeming to have fled from her legs. "So the reports were right," she whispered. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"_Of course_ I killed him!" Anakin exploded. "I didn't have a choice!"

Padmé looked up at him, her deep brown eyes carrying none of the fire that had possessed them only a few moments ago. She seemed to have been seized by some hidden fear. "Oh, Anakin," she said quietly. "Do you realize what this means? They're going to hunt you down! They can't ignore something like this."

Anakin laughed, a hollow sound that echoed bitterly in his own ears. "The Emperor and his mindless pawns have been hunting me for years. So far, they haven't come close to catching me."

That did not seem to ease his wife's mind in the slightest. She lowered her gaze to the floor and buried her face in her hands. For Anakin, it was a profound shock. He had never seen Padmé this close to despair, and his heart simply could not take it.

The Jedi's anger evaporated and he knelt down in front of Padmé. As tenderly as he could, he pulled her hands away from her face and took them in his, massaging her wrists gently with his thumbs.

"Padmé," he said softly. "Look at me."

His angel slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Anakin's heart throbbed painfully when he saw that her soft, wondrously brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. He immediately hated himself for so callously upsetting her, but he had to make her understand.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he told her, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "I should have thought about the consequences, and I definitely should have told you about this earlier. But please, you have to understand. I couldn't just sit back and let this man destroy our family. I had to act!"

Padmé looked into Anakin's eyes for several long moments. During that time, Anakin was unable to move. Silently, he prayed that she would see the reason for what he had done, prayed that she would forgive him. He couldn't take the pain he had seen hovering in her eyes; every last drop of that agony was magnified a thousand times in his soul. He bowed his head, unable to look any longer.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his left hand and a gentle finger caressed his skin. He looked up, and saw that his wife was smiling ever so slightly, her angelic face banishing all traces of worry from his mind. The unshed tears that had gathered at the corners of her almond-shaped eyes simply melted away. She nodded slowly, and Anakin knew that whatever else she might have thought or still was thinking, however rash and dangerous his actions had been, she had forgiven him.

Relief washed over the Jedi Knight in a wave of pure, cleansing power. He stood up and gently gathered Padmé into his embrace. Her arms encircled his waist as she held him tightly, her face buried in the smooth material of his vest.

"I understand, Ani," she said softly. "I may not like it, but I understand. I'm just worried. The Empire's closing in everywhere, robbing us of everything we love and cherish. I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Angel," Anakin told her as he ran his fingers through her long hair. "Sometimes I think that you're the only thing that's keeping me sane. You're the one light; everywhere else the darkness is waiting to catch me and take me away."

Padmé grip tightened. "Don't say that."

Anakin brought his left hand up to his wife's cheek and caressed it tenderly. "Well then, Angel," he said, a smile breaking onto his features for the first time in several minutes. "What would you like me to say?"

Padmé matched Anakin's smile with a mischievous grin. "How about, 'I love you' and 'Everything's going to be all right'?"

Anakin leaned in and planted a feather-light kiss on his wife's forehead. "Everything is going to be all right _because_ I love you. I love you so much that I can't think of anything else when I'm with you. You're my world, Padmé."

Padmé laughed and leaned in to kiss him on the lips, stopping only a few centimeters away. "I love you too. Even if you do tend to make a fool of yourself when you try to be romantic."

"Hey. I thought that was pretty good."

"If you say so," Padmé smirked, her eyes sparkling. "Shut up and kiss me, you hopeless fool."

Grinning widely, Anakin leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The fires of an unrivaled passion rose up within him, surging through his body and setting his heart on fire. He felt Padmé respond as his lips slid smoothly across hers, and he knew that an equally strong fire had been ignited within her. It was impossible to forget the sensation, but it never failed to amaze him how much this one action, coming right from the heart, could say more than words ever could.

Finally they broke apart, both of them gasping for air. As soon as she regained her breath, Padmé looked up at Anakin, her previously serious manner having returned.

"So what happened after you left Kuat? Even if the Empire was tracking you, it shouldn't have taken so long for you to get back. Unless you ran into trouble?"

Anakin's mood darkened and the smile disappeared from his face. He and Padmé almost never fought, and after enduring their heated exchange of words and accusations only a few minutes ago, he didn't want to risk stirring up his anger again. He couldn't dwell on what he had learned in the cave for more than a few seconds without succumbing to anger, guilt, and despair, and that was not a burden that he wanted his wife to have to bear. No matter how strong Padmé was, no matter how brightly her light shone, she would not be able to live with the knowledge that her husband had been destined from birth to take up the mask of their mortal enemy, Lord Vader, and lead a crusade that would plunge the galaxy into darkness.

Still, he did not want to say nothing. Padmé would know that he was holding something back, but maybe she would not press him if he consented to give her a small part of the truth.

"I went to Dagobah," he said finally. "Master Yoda had called me there."

"Yoda?" Padmé frowned, her brow tensing as she absorbed this clearly unexpected answer. "Yoda hasn't been in contact with us since the start of the war. What did he want?"

"He wanted to talk to me about what happened on Kuat," Anakin told her carefully, eager to brush past the volatile subject. "He also told me that the time was coming for us to make our move. He intends to leave Dagobah and join us here."

"But why?" Padmé asked. "The Empire is still looking for him, and he has to know that we aren't nearly strong enough yet for a final confrontation."

"I told him that," Anakin said, shrugging his shoulders. "But Master Yoda can often use the Force to gain insight into what the future holds. Perhaps he knows something we don't."

As hard as he tried, Anakin could not manage to keep the bitterness out of his tone. Padmé noticed, and her eyes found her husband's, searching for a reason behind his icy blue gaze.

"Something's bothering you, Ani. What are you not telling me?"

Anakin closed his eyes and withdrew into the Force, willing himself to be calm When he had found his peace, he opened his eyes and reached out to take Padmé's hand. As evenly as he could, he held her inquiring gaze.

"Please, Padmé, I need you to do something," he said quietly. "I know it's hard for you, but this is something I need to deal with on my own. I'm asking you to trust me."

"I trust you, Anakin," Padmé whispered. "I've always trusted you."

Anakin bent down and pressed his forehead gently against Padmé's. Her breathing slowed, and she closed her eyes. Their faces were so close together that their noses were touching and their breath was mingling. Anakin slid his arms gently around his wife's slender waist.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said softly. "Just hold me."

Anakin did just that. It had been a long time … much too long … since he had had such an opportunity. He closed his eyes and allowed all his worries and doubts to flee from him as he held his wife in his arms, idly stroking her hair. Padmé drew closer to him, her warm breath blowing softly across his chest. Neither one spoke for several minutes, savoring the tangible aura of love, trust, and completion that pervaded their bodies, their hearts, and their souls.

* * *

A few hours later, Anakin was sleeping peacefully with Padmé nestled comfortably in his arms when the unexpected blaring of the bedside alarm jerked him unceremoniously back into consciousness. Muttering under his breath, he stretched out his mechanical right arm, intending to shut it off. Before he could, however, Padmé seized his wrist and pulled his arm away. She also began to disentangle herself from his embrace. "Come on. We need to get up." 

"That's funny," Anakin grumbled, keeping his eyes determinedly closed. "Don't lie to me, Padmé."

Padmé rolled her eyes and used her free hand to smack Anakin painfully hard on his bare chest. "You _know_ I never lie, Anakin Skywalker."

"Ouch!" Anakin's eyes snapped open, glaring at his wife. "Well then, could you make an exception?"

"Not a chance," Padmé said, pulling away from him and setting her feet on the floor. "There's a good reason for walking up this early."  
Anakin closed his eyes again and leaned back into his pillow. "Unless it involves you, me, and two weeks at a lakeside retreat on Naboo, I don't want to hear it."

"Trust me, you do," Padmé said briskly, pushing her long hair out of her face. "I forgot to tell you last night because we got distracted, but Bail's coming back today."

Anakin groaned audibly. "Why do we have to wake up at this ungodly hour to see Bail? I mean, I know he's our friend, but …"

"It's not just Bail who's coming," Padmé told him. She stood up, crossed the room, and grabbed a towel from the dresser. Then she turned back towards her husband and smiled. "He's bringing Luke and Leia with him."

Anakin sat up so fast that he felt a muscle pull in his neck. He ignored it, however, because he was staring at his wife with an expression somewhere between shock and apprehension.

"Luke and Leia," he echoed in a hushed voice. "But I thought …"

"So did I," Padmé answered, her smile widening. "But Bail made some careful evaluations and he decided it's safe enough to bring them for a visit."

Anakin's thoughts were moving at ten kilometers per second, but without warning a single emotion crashed in and swept them all away: elation. His children, Luke and Leia, were actually coming. He would be able to see them for the first time in over two years …

Padmé began to move towards the door to the refresher. "Come on, get up. We've both got to shower, get dressed, and get down to the hanger before they arrive. I don't want us to be late."

Anakin, suddenly overwhelmed with good spirits, grinned roguishly at Padmé as she reached the door. "You know, we'd be ready a lot quicker if we both showered at the same time."

Padmé laughed. "Don't think I'm not tempted, my handsome Jedi, but if you keep thinking like that we're not going to get out of here until noon."

Anakin lowered his head and pretended to be hurt, all the while hiding the fact that he was still grinning. "You have no faith in me."

"On the contrary," Padmé shot back, the playfulness in her voice easily evident as she began to close the door. "I know you too well, Anakin."

"Maybe you do," Anakin called after her, his grin now stuck to his face. "But that's what you love about me."

* * *

Half an hour later, Padmé and Anakin were walking hand in hand down to the hanger bay where Anakin had left his ship the previous night. The corridors of the _Liberty_ were largely quiet, as the few individuals who were awake on the ship were either at breakfast or at their stations. Twice they passed small gatherings of Alliance soldiers and politicians who broke off their conversations to stare openly at the couple. Padmé ignored them, and Anakin was only too happy to follow her lead. This morning belonged to them, and he did not intend to allow anything to shake him out of his peaceful state. 

They arrived at the hanger without being accosted and discovered to their pleasure that it was almost empty as well. Anakin's starfighter was the only ship docked there. The mechanics and technicians were nowhere in sight, which meant that they were either asleep or hunched over their early-morning cafs in the maintenance office. There was only one other fully alert person visible: Sabé. Upon Anakin and Padmé's entrance, she quickly rushed over to greet them.

"Good morning, Padmé!" She said brightly, giving her friend a hug. "And Anakin! When did you get back?"

Sabé gave Anakin a quick hug as well. The two of them had put aside all grievances concerning Obi-Wan long ago, but they had never quite managed to reestablish their previous sibling-like relationship.

"I got back very late last night," Anakin told her. "Or as I should say, very early this morning. Padmé made sure that got the least amount of sleep possible."

"Don't mind him," Padmé told her friend briskly. "For someone who grew up on a planet with two suns, Anakin has never been much of a morning person."

"I never was either," Sabé said. "But after Jadon came around …"

Padmé scanned the hanger quickly. "Where is Jadon? Did you bring him with you?"

"Yes, I did," Sabé answered, her eyes narrowing as she joined Padmé in searching the hanger for her son. "But anytime I turn my back on him for so much as a second, he runs off somewhere. He's always angling for some kind of adventure."

"With you as his mother, I'm not surprised," Padmé quipped. "He can't have gone far …"

"I see him," Anakin interjected, striding off towards his starfighter. He had seen a familiar dark head of hair bobbing inside the open pilot's compartment. "I should have guessed that's where he'd be."

He approached his ship and casually leaned against it. "You know, Jadon," he said casually. "When I promised that you could ride in my starfighter, I meant that you could ride in it _with_ me."

Jadon poked his round face over the side of the ship to peer down at the grinning Jedi. "Come on, Uncle Ani! You flied at my age!"

Sabé muttered a curse under her breath and strode off quickly towards the ship. "How in the _world_ did he get up there?"

"I flew landspeeders and pod racers, Jadon," Anakin said, still grinning. "I didn't get to fly a starfighter until I was nine."

Sabé stopped next to Anakin and crossed her arms, mustering her sternest glare. "Jadon Kenobi, you come down from there this instant!"

Jadon shook his head defiantly, sending his mane of curly dark hair into his eyes. "No. I want Uncle Ani to come up!"

Sabé sighed and turned to her friend's husband. "Anakin, will you please go up and retrieve my son before he hurts himself?"

"Of course." Anakin grabbed the ladder leading up to the cockpit and quickly ascended until he was level with Jadon, who was happily seated in the pilot's chair, fiddling with various controls.

"Jadon," Anakin said mock-seriously . "Come on. You know if I don't get you down soon, your mother's going to lay into both of us."

Jadon wrinkled his nose. "Not me. Just you."

"Ouch," Anakin exclaimed. "Thanks for hanging me out to dry, buddy. You've got your father's wit, you know that? Not to mention his talent for getting himself into trouble."

Jadon giggled. "That's what Mama says."

"Your mother is a smart woman." Anakin screwed up his face into a pleading expression. "Come on, Jadon, have mercy on me. You know I can't take her by myself."

Jadon grinned broadly. "All right, Uncle Ani. For you."

Anakin wiped his brow in mock-relief. "Thank the Force. All right, Jadon. You go first."

Before Jadon could react, Anakin picked him up with the Force and whisked him out of the cockpit. Jadon laughed delightedly as Anakin guided him through the air before setting him down gently in front of Sabé, who immediately picked him up and began to scold him.

"Look at you, Jadon. You've gotten yourself all dirty. What did I tell you about running off like that?"

She pulled out a piece of cloth and began to wipe her son's face. Jadon squirmed in her arms. "Mama, stop! You know I hate that! Uncle Ani, save me!"

Anakin leapt down from the ladder and landed next to Padmé, who had been watching the entire scene with great amusement. She squeezed his arm gently. "You know you're the only one he'd have listened too. He can be unbelievably stubborn at times."

"I know," Anakin said quietly, a sad, distant look filling his eyes as he watched Jadon struggle to get free. "He's so much like Obi-Wan. It's almost like …"

He stopped talking in mid-sentence, an unexpected lump having formed in his throat.

Jadon finally managed to break away from Sabé and promptly rubbed his now-clean face with his dirty hands, messing it up again. Seeming resigned, Sabé took his hand and gently steered him back towards the entrance to the hanger. "Come on. Bail and the twins should be here at any moment."

Jadon fell into step with Anakin as they walked. "Did my father like to fly too, Uncle Ani?"

Anakin forced down the lump in his throat and smiled. No matter how much Jadon reminded him of Obi-Wan, he could never remain nostalgic around him for long. The boy was too full of energy.

"Actually, Jadon, your father didn't like to fly all that much, although he was very good at it. I have no idea where you picked up your love for it."

Jadon bounced a little as he hurried to keep up with Anakin's long strides. "From you, Uncle Ani! Two dune lizards from the same pod!"

Sabé shot Anakin a meaningful look. "That reminds me, Anakin. Jadon has started to pick up some of your expressions lately. You haven't been using any of your more rough-edged language around him, have you?"

Anakin's expression was a little too innocent for his own good. "Who, me? Of course not!"

Neither Sabé nor Padmé seemed to be convinced. To cover his uneasiness, Anakin swept Jadon onto his shoulders and perched him there. The young boy beamed and his happiness shone through the Force like a beacon. Anakin spun him around, and all his worries vanished in the sound of Jadon's joyful shout.

"Look!" Padmé exclaimed suddenly. "They're coming!"

Everyone quickly looked out through the force field shielding the entrance to the hanger. A small shuttle was drawing close to the cruiser, slowing down as though preparing to dock. Anakin felt Padmé squeeze his hand tightly. This was it. The moment they had been waiting for was almost here.

The shuttle passed through the shield and landed smoothly in the hanger next to Anakin's ship. There was a brief lull while the pilot shut down the craft's engine, then with the pneumatic hiss of escaping gases, the boarding ramp began to descend.

Anakin set Jadon down and took two hesitant steps towards the shuttle. Beside him, his normally calm and collected wife was trembling with suppressed emotion. Anakin put his arm around her shoulders to steady her, but he couldn't be sure if it was effective because he was so full of anticipation himself.

Holding himself tall and proud, Bail Organa walked down the ship's ramp. The head of the Royal House of Alderaan wore more cares now and there were a few shades of dignified grey in his hair, but he remained as dynamic of a presence as ever, a fitting leader for the cause of freedom in the galaxy. His tanned face broke into a warm smile when he saw his two old friends waiting at the foot of the ramp, and he extended his hand in greeting to Anakin.

"It's been a while, Anakin. It's good to see you again."

Anakin shook Bail's hand firmly. "You too, Bail."

The former Senator turned his attention to Padmé and gave her a warm hug. "Padmé. How are things with the Alliance?"

"As well as could be expected," Padmé answered. "There have been some setbacks …"

Bail's face darkened. "Yes, I heard about what happened on Coprighin 5. It was a crucial loss. I've also heard fragments of reports claiming that the Empire has struck again, though when and where I do not know."

He shook off his brooding expression and smiled. "But we'll talk about that later. Right now there are two young people who are very eager to see you."

He turned and called up the boarding ramp. "Come on, Leia. Come on, Luke. Don't be shy."

Two small figures hesitantly appeared at the top of the ramp, accompanied by a young woman who Anakin and Padmé knew to be Sheltay Retrac, Bail's personal aide and bodyguard. At a slight nudge from her, the two figures started down the ramp, clutching each other's hand very tightly. As they moved into the light, their faces came into view and Anakin's breath froze in his throat.

His children. He had been envisioning this moment for years, but he had never expected it to feel like this.

Luke was almost a perfect echo of Anakin himself. The young boy had an honest, expressive face that Anakin could tell was usually adorned by a fun-loving grin. His tousled mane of sandy-blonde hair fell over his eyes in a windswept manner, resembling someone who had just stepped off a speeder bike. His eyes were a clear, piercing blue, yet they had the softness of one who is innately gentle at heart. He had deeply tanned skin and a slightly freckled face, standard markers of growing up on a desert planet like Tatooine. He wore the traditional garb of a moisture farmer's son; a rough, white homespun tunic and pants that could endure the harshness of the heat and endless sand. Anakin knew instinctively that spending the early years of his childhood on such an unforgiving world had left its mark on Luke, but it had not broken the boy's spirit. His son shone in the Force like a brilliant star.

Leia, on the other hand, was the very image of her mother. Her skin was soft and delicate, and unlike her brother she was pale, bespeaking her aristocratic upbringing. She had received wonderful and devoted care, but it had not spoiled her in any way. She carried herself with a quiet dignity, yet her chocolate-brown eyes burned with the same intensity that Anakin so loved in Padmé. Her dark brown hair was swept up into an elegant series of braids, which framed her warm and kind face like a halo. She wore an embroidered dress that was as simple as it was elegant, a uniquely Alderaanian style accentuating her Nubian heritage. Though her presence in the Force was more subdued than Luke's, it was by no means less powerful. The veiled strength spoke to the fire within.

The twins stopped a short distance away at the end of the ramp, still looking very uncertain. Their parents were holding their breath, afraid to move. There was a moment in which no one spoke, though the slight ripples in the Force suggested that the twins were somehow communicating with each other. Finally, Leia stepped forwards slightly, looking as formal as it was possible for a nervous five-year old girl to look.

"Hello, Mother," she said evenly. "Hello, Father."

Anakin had been aware of just how hard Padmé was clutching his hand, but suddenly that pressure was gone. The two of them were sprinting towards their children and sweeping them into their arms, hugging them with such intensity that they subconsciously wondered if they would ever be able to let go.

For a moment, Anakin was terrified that the twins would tense up in fear: they had only been three years old the last time they had seen their parents. But his fears vanished almost instantly as he felt Luke and Leia sink into his embrace willingly, their small arms holding onto him with surprising strength.

Padmé had let go of all reserve. Tears of happiness were streaming openly down her face as her family was reunited. "My babies … Luke, Leia … Oh, I can't believe it! I've missed you so much …"

Anakin loosened his grip so that he could see the twins' faces again. Luke and Leia were smiling now, somewhat uncertainly, but in a way that reflected the love Anakin could sense through the Force. He knew in that moment that they had not been forgotten; the twins had been looking forward to this as much as he and Padmé had been.

The Skywalkers finally broke apart so that everyone could breathe. Luke and Leia's small faces were covered with tears, though neither one appeared to have been crying. A quick glance over at his wife presented the answer to Anakin; Padmé had pulled out a handkerchief and was dabbing her eyes furiously, though her tears were still coming thick and fast. No one seemed to know what to say; the emotion was too overwhelming.

Suddenly, Luke broke the silence, speaking for the first time.

"Mom … you got us all wet …"

That was the cue. Padmé began to laugh through her tears, an enchantingly musical sound that rung loud and clear throughout the air. Anakin joined in too, unable to contain his amusement and sheer joy. Caught up in the moment, Luke and Leia began to giggle as well. Sabé and Bail tried to remain quiet, not wishing to intrude, but they could not contain themselves and eventually they joined in. Before long, the harmonious sound of their laughter had filled the entire hanger, mirroring the incomparable happiness of a family that was whole and together once more.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Darth Vader returns to Coruscant to face the Emperor, who is none too pleased that his servant chose to defy him. A heated confrontation ensues, shattering all illusions of trust between Master and Apprentice ..._


	53. Confrontation

Hello all! I apologize for the delay. I wasn't able to write at all over vacation, and the weather was so glorious when I got back that I had to spend my time outside rather than up in front of the computer. To make it up to you, here's the next post!

* * *

**Chapter 53**

The Dark Side of the Force called to its Master.

The agonized and fearful screams of countless sentient beings rang out, echoing through space, time, and the very essence of the Force itself. A great roar followed; a vast tidal wave of black emptiness of death rushing to fill the void left by the departure of life. Then there was silence, a great silence that fell even more profoundly than the roar or the screams, as a million hearts ceased to beat. A million lives surrendered to the ultimate darkness.

Emperor Palpatine, awash in the turbulent ocean of his power, allowed a small smile to reach his twisted lips. Dantooine had been destroyed as planned.

Keeping his sickly orange eyes closed, the Dark Lord of the Sith leaned back in his chair and embraced the ravaging currents that swept through his bloodstream, tearing away his humanity and leaving something even stronger behind. A weaker being would not have been able to endure such unnatural transcendence, but Palpatine prided himself on having achieved a level of spiritual detachment that none before him had managed to reach. The pain of such a transformation was nothing compared to the euphoria that the echoes of such power brought to his tattered soul. It was times like this when he could see the entire galaxy bending to his will. It was times like this when immortality seemed within reach.

It was times like this when Emperor Palpatine felt like a _god_.

Never before had one man achieved such an unprecedented level of control over either the galaxy or the Force. Soon, everyone would know it. He possessed the ultimate power and the ultimate weapon. Those who served him would live their entire lives in fear, knowing that he owned them utterly, body and soul.

Those who defied him … they would meet the same fate as the residents of Dantooine.

A harsh noise drew the Emperor out of his meditations. His eyes open to glare at the comm unit built into the arm of his throne. He had given orders that he was not to be disturbed unless there was a real need of his presence. If he did not like what he was about to hear, then his servants would feel the wrath of a Sith.

He brushed the activation switch lightly with the tip of his finger. "Yes?"

A holographic image of an officer bearing the insignia of a captain materialized in front of him. The man's already pale skin promptly turned stark white, and fear radiated visibly off of him. Palpatine smiled inwardly. Clearly, this man knew his place in the galaxy.

"M-M-My Lord …." The captain stammered, trying desperately to hold his military composure although his shoulders were shaking badly. "The Death Star h-has a-arrived in system. Y-You requested that w-we report to you i-immediately."

Palpatine reached out with the Force and quickly discerned that the captain was right. The Death Star had entered Imperial Center's system and was currently orbiting between the sixth and seventh planets. His meditation must have taken longer than he had planned.

The Emperor's anger evaporated. Though he already knew the end result of his weapon's mission, he was eager to hear the full details. Settling back in his throne, he nodded to the captain. "Send word to Moff Tarkin. Tell him that I wish to speak to him as soon as possible."

The captain's face became, if possible, even paler. He opened his mouth and then closed it, seeming to struggle to force words past his lips. The Emperor glared at him impatiently, his anger stirring. He did not like to be kept waiting.

Suddenly, the captain blurted out his words in a jumbled rush, as though he were scared that he might lose something much more vital than his nerve if he did not speak soon. "I apologize, My Lord, but … but Moff Tarkin is not available."

A cold chill crawled into the pit of Palpatine's stomach. He couldn't explain why, but the Force was welling up inside of him, waiting to burst forth. Something was wrong … something that he had not anticipated.

The Emperor's voice dropped to a low hiss. "What do you mean _he is not available_? Are you daring to tell me that Moff Tarkin cannot answer the summons of his Emperor?"

The captain's entire body was shaking now. "I'm sorry, M-My Lord. Moff Tarkin cannot answer your summons because he is currently locked in a maximum-security detention cell …"

Palpatine's gnarled hands curled into fists and the darkness rose up inside of him, making his face even more terrifying to behold. He leaned forward in his throne, his burning eyes lancing through flesh and bone to the depths of the captain's soul.

"Who authorized this?" he hissed in a whisper, though the Force was already telling him the answer. It could only be …

"Lord Vader, Your Majesty!" the captain cried out, unable to endure the wrath of the supreme ruler of the galaxy any longer. "He ordered that Moff Tarkin be imprisoned for treason!"

The Emperor drew back into his throne, his rotting teeth bared in a furious snarl. It all made sense to him now. He had decided to conduct this test because he had long harbored suspicions about his apprentice, but he had not sufficiently prepared himself for the consequences he would face if his suspicions turned out to be valid. There was only one thing he could do now.

"Tell Lord Vader that I want to speak to him. _Immediately_."

"Y-Yes, My Lord."

* * *

Darth Vader strode purposefully through the corridors of the Imperial Palace, his long black cloak swirling behind him. On his way to the throne room, he passed an enormous statue of the Emperor himself, standing tall, regal, and unassailable. When subjects of the Empire passed this statue, they were supposed to move quietly and humbly, averting their eyes to demonstrate their fear and unquestioned fealty to the master of the galaxy. Vader did none of these things. The statue was a blatant lie. His master was not tall. He was not regal. And he was certainly not unassailable.

Vader knew what awaited him in the Emperor's chambers. Palpatine's anger burned hot and thick through the Force like the sulfurous fumes of Mustafar. That fire had destroyed Vader's body, but he had not been consumed, and he would not be consumed now. Gone were the days when he knelt reverently at his master's feet, obeying commands without question. He was blind no longer. He could see, beyond the shadow of any doubt, the direction in which Palpatine's insane fantasies of power were taking his Empire. He had turned his once-glorious New Order into an oppressive, sadistic regime, every bit as corrupt as the Old Republic had been. When Vader had agreed to become Sidious's apprentice, he had done so under the impression that he would be able to take part in the shaping of a just, fair, and strong government, one that would ensure peace and order in the galaxy for all time.

No one's life was more important than that. Not even the life of the Emperor himself.

The terrible scar in the Force left by the destruction of Dantooine had not yet healed, and Vader thought he knew why. Palpatine had lied to him. The world had not been uninhabited apart from the Rebels after all. There had been over a million peaceful sentient beings living scattered across the surface, completely unaware that because of the actions of a few traitors, everything that they had lived for and cherished had been destroyed. These were the kind of people that the Empire was supposed to protect. Instead, their lives had been cast aside to showcase the power of Palpatine's ultimate weapon. It was sick, it was wrong, and Vader wanted no part of it. He didn't give a damn if he had to personally slaughter every Rebel in the galaxy to ensure that such a travesty of justice did not happen again. He would do it without question.

But such thoughts were for the future. Right now, there was only one traitor who needed his attention.

Vader reached the turbolift leading up to his master's throne room. He walked calmly and confidently, and the red-robed Royal Guards let him pass without incident. He was to them, after all, Lord Darth Vader, loyal and obedient servant of the Emperor. Fools. Like their master, they had clearly never learned that the greatest threats often came from within.

The turbolift carried him up several floors to his master's personal throne room. It was constructed in exactly the same design as the one found on the Death Star itself, and Vader's eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in its extravagant construction. The only difference was that instead of looking out over the myriad stars of the galaxy, the viewport behind the Emperor's throne gave a spectacular view of Coruscant's skyline. The setting sun reflected its blinding light onto the smooth surfaces of a thousand skyscrapers, giving the impression that the entire planet was aflame. Silhouetted against the burning horizon was the Master of Darkness himself, Emperor Palpatine.

Vader strode calmly forward up the stairs to stand before the Emperor's throne, as he had done hundreds of times before. He stopped about ten paces away and looked directly into the shadows of the older man's angry, mutilated face.

He did not bow, nor did he kneel.

Palpatine was leaning back in his chair, his arms resting lightly on the sides of his throne. Though his anger was tangible and easily visible in his eyes, he looked perfectly relaxed. It was, Vader knew, a ploy to make himself appear calm. In control.

The two Sith Lords looked at each other, the air between them literally crackling with suppressed tension and power. Neither one spoke for a several long moments.

Finally, the harsh voice of the Emperor broke the silence. "Lord Vader."

Vader did not move or bother to raise his voice above its usual monotone. "Yes?"

The Emperor's orange eyes flickered dangerously. "Do you know why I have summoned you here?"

Hidden beneath his mask, Vader's lips twitched into an icy smile. "Yes."

The Emperor clenched his fists as his anger rose another notch. "Then why, I ask you, are you not down on your knees before me now, begging for my forgiveness?"

Vader's smiled grew colder, and this time he was sure that Palpatine knew it. "Begging for forgiveness entails there being something to forgive … Master."

Palpatine's teeth ground together audibly. "You failed me, Lord Vader. I thought you understood that I wanted you to demonstrate the power of the Death Star by destroying Dantooine."

"Dantooine has been destroyed, Master," Vader told him, the slightest hint of mocking now evident in his voice.

"Do not play games with me, Lord Vader," Palpatine hissed. "I always know the truth. You played and mouse with these Rebels, negotiating terms for their surrender. Dantooine was only destroyed because Moff Tarkin intervened. Yet once he did so, you assaulted him and ordered that he be imprisoned."

"Moff Tarkin," Vader said calmly, "received what punishment was appropriate to him as a traitor to the Empire."

"A traitor?" Palpatine echoed menacingly. "The only traitors to the Empire, Lord Vader, are those who chose to defy the will of the Emperor."

"The Emperor placed the Death Star under my command," Vader said evenly. He knew that by refusing to be goaded into anger or penance, he was infuriating his master, and it was only a matter of time before his twisted mind snapped. "Moff Tarkin chose to subvert me. He should consider himself lucky. Disobeying the orders of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet is an offense punishable by death."

The Emperor leaned forward in his throne. He was now clutching the arms of his throne with such force that Vader idly wondered if the bones in his frail old fingers might snap. "You are only Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet because I made you so, Lord Vader. You are only a Sith Lord because I freed you from the lies of the treacherous Jedi. You are only standing here before me now because I saved you from imminent death on Mustafar and gave you a second chance at life. You owe me everything, Lord Vader. Without me, without my mercy and generosity, you would be _nothing_."

He settled back into the depths of his throne and stared intensely at the fearsome mask that covered his servant's face. "If you are willing to defy me after all that I have done for you, then perhaps I am forced to acknowledge that you are not a true servant of the Empire."

Until that moment, Vader had held the edge. While his master spat venom and shook with rage, he had remained completely calm, completely in control. He had withstood Palpatine's efforts to bear him down, to provoke him into a rash outburst of weakness, to humiliate him for his supposed failure. It had been pathetically easy to resist the empty jibes of the raving and deluded old man while establishing himself as a pillar of strength. Palpatine's arrogance was so vast that he had failed to see just how much he was undermining himself, how far he was playing into his apprentice's hands.

But this last assertion, a parting shot from a desperate man as he teetered on the precipice of losing control, was too much. It shot through Vader's guard like the strike of a cornered snake, sinking its teeth into his veins and pouring its poison throughout his entire body. The black wave of malicious venom overpowered his blood and smashed into the wall of reservation that he had built up around his heart, unleashing the terrible force that he had been holding within.

Anger.

Palpatine sensed the change. Vader could see in his malevolent, sickly eyes, that which the Emperor would never acknowledge: the smallest shadow of doubt.

"When I helped you to found this Empire …" Vader's voice rang out, filling the throne room with its rich and ominous tones, "I had no delusions about its structure of power. It was to be ruled by one man, a sovereign Emperor chosen for life, who would hold the ultimate authority. This was necessary, I knew, because the pitiful weakness and corruption of the Old Republic Senate had led the galaxy to the brink of destruction. The Empire was supposed to be glorious, a strong and just government that would ensure peace and prosperity in the galaxy for ten thousand years. I pledged my life and my service to you because I wanted to be a part of this New Order."

His voice dropped to a lower, darker, and far more sinister level. "For five years I have sought to bring about the ideal upon which this government is founded. Under your direction, I have implemented the policies designed to uphold our authority and eliminate corruption in the political structure, and I have hunted with singular purpose the traitors who would see this Empire destroyed. The galaxy has prospered for it. Now, we stand upon the brink of victory. The Alliance cannot hold out against us for much longer, for they have no principles, only greed and the shadow of a deluded dream. All it would take to ensure peace and justice for all time is to uphold the values of the New Order in the face of such desperation, and the Rebellion will crumble. One last concentrated push against the Rebels, and then the citizens of this galaxy will be able to live their lives under the rule foreseen by the Force. Yet instead of championing such an approach, Master, you have chosen to oppress, terrorize, and murder the citizens of your Empire in a senseless bid for even greater control. It is not enough for you to have their loyalty and subservience. You must have their hearts, minds, and souls as well, or else you must destroy them utterly.

"The Death Star is the embodiment of this twisted fantasy. You now have a weapon that you believe will give you complete control over every aspect of your subject's lives because it gives you the power to destroy them at will. What you do not realize is that by killing a million innocent beings to satisfy your perverted lust for blood, you provide a million martyrs for the _trillions_ of remaining citizens of this galaxy. Already, those who have heard of the destruction of Dantooine are rallying to the Rebel's standard to oppose you – exactly the opposite reaction forecast by the so-called 'Doctrine of Fear'. If you continue to display your pitiful lack of foresight and understanding, you will find that the entire galaxy has risen up against you, and the New Order that we worked to build will be nothing but dust and memories."

His powerful hands curled into fists of sheer defiance. "I will not allow that to happen, _Palpatine_. I swear to you now, on the lives of every being I have sacrificed to forge this vision, that I will do whatever is necessary to ensure its survival, even if that means seizing ultimate control from your insane grasp before you ruin us all. For that, I can call myself a true servant of the Empire."

For the first time in his life, Emperor Palpatine seemed to be speechless. His mouth was hanging half-open, frozen in an expression of incoherent rage. The suffocating power of his anger roiled within him, but it was nothing compared to Vader's. The younger man's eyes burned a fiery yellow as he watched his master struggle to force words through his stricken throat.

"_How … dare … you …_"

"You would, in your arrogance and paranoia, bring about the destruction of this galaxy," Vader broke in icily, overriding his master's sputtering. "You are acting in direct violation of the will of the Force. You are not fit to hold the title of Emperor. You are not fit to hold the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. There is only one title that is suitable for a traitor as twisted as you are … _coward_!"

Palpatine leapt out of his seat and let out a scream of pure, unadulterated rage. The sheer weight of his insanity descended upon him, contorting his already wasted form into something less than human. Faster than the eye could follow, his gnarled hands shot up, pointed directly at his apprentice, and unleashed in a flash of blinding light the full power of the Dark Side.

Vader was ready. As the killing stream of lightning flew towards him, he snatched his lightsaber from his belt, ignited the blood-red blade, and intercepted the attack.

The Emperor, still shrieking madly, doubled his salvo, trying to force his power past the shield had arisen to smite his defiant apprentice. A corona of crackling energy surrounded Vader's blade, and the forks of lightning were reflected away from the two Sith Lords, dancing along the ceiling and the walls of the throne room. Vader was forced to draw deeply into the Force to hold off the enormous assault, but he stood his ground.

The storm did not abate. Not for nothing had the man known as Palpatine risen to become Emperor and the most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith in a millennium. He channeled the Dark Side of the Force through every cell in his body, making himself a complete conduit for his power. The intensity of his tangible hatred outstripped that which he had summoned to smite the Jedi Masters Mace Windu and Yoda five years before. His eyes turned pure red as he sought determinedly to hurt … to punish … to kill.

Never before had Vader experienced such a raw manifestation of power. And yet still he stood his ground.

His unconscious thoughts began to drift as he put all his focus into surviving the assault. He could not hold off this stream for much longer. Perhaps if had been whole he could have endured it better, but his mechanical body was failing him …

Suddenly, unbidden, a memory rose into the forefront of his mind. He was training with his master in a dark room, learning how to use the Force to destroy his greatest enemy, General Grievous. Sidious was directing lightning at him, just as he was now, and calling out instructions.

_Stop trying to deflect the attacks. Throw them back at your enemy. Use his own attack against him …_

Vader allowed his mouth to curl into an unseen snarl as he summoned all of his anger, directing it without reservation at the man who had taught him to unleash it …

The change in his mindset soon manifested itself. As Vader forced himself to shift from the defensive to the offensive, the arcing stream of lightning began to bend back towards Palpatine …

The Sith Lord's eyes widened and his face twisted even further as he reinforced his attacks, resisting the shift in the battle. The awesome power that tore through his veins slowly began to escape, tearing apart a vessel that was too weak to fully contain its might.

Vader could feel the strain that turning back the lightning was taking on him. Though the mechanical shell forced his ravaged lungs to keep breathing steadily, the rest of his body could not endure without its faltering support. Adamantly, he grounded himself in the Force, refusing to let his mind slip away.

The stream of lightning was weakening now, ever so slightly. Palpatine's already mangled form was deforming still further, shredded by the intensity of the power he sought to control. The legendary strength in Vader's arms was fading, his breathing now becoming uneven as stray forks of lightning found his life-support systems and began to overload their circuitry …

Then it was over.

Emperor Palpatine collapsed back into his throne, the lightning disappearing as his arms fell limply to his sides. His breath came in choking, agonized gasps, and his entire body was unconsciously shaking. The red glow had faded from his eyes, leaving them an even sicklier yellow than before. Though his features had already been marred, they were even more misshapen than before, now twice cursed by the wrath of the Dark Side.

Vader, meanwhile was struggling to stand upright. His red-tinted vision flickered as his suit overcompensated for the damaged circuitry in his chest, bringing his breathing back under control. He had nearly fallen forward when the storm had broken, but through the strength of a will forged in the fires of Mustafar, he had prevented his knee from touching the ground. The Dark Lord of the Sith had been tried and tested, but once again, he had not been conquered.

The two men faced each other now, the air between them filled with a heavy silence that was broken only by Vader's deep, slow breathing and Palpatine's ragged gasps. Neither one moved or spoke. It was almost as if their heated conversation and subsequent struggle had never occurred.

After a minute or so, Palpatine pulled himself up from his slumped position, his breathing beginning to settle. He glared furiously at Vader, but now, in the depths of his eyes, there was an open sign of fear. Beneath his mask, Vader smiled.

Seeming to sense the taunting gesture, Palpatine forced himself to speak, his voice cracking as though it had not been used in an age.

"I am … still … the master …"

"A master of your own fate," Vader said coldly. "But not of mine."

Palpatine's mouth curled into an angry sneer, but it seemed that he could find no retort. The two Sith Lords lapsed into silence for several tense moments. Finally, Vader turned away and began to walk back towards the turbolift. "I believe that we are done here."

Palpatine sat up straight in his throne, drawing upon the Force to bolster his rasping voice. "You will not turn your back on me, Lord Vader! The Empire is mine, and as long as you serve it, you serve me."

Vader stopped and turned to look over his shoulder at Palpatine.

"Thanks to your recent actions, the galaxy is too unstable for any serious transition. If you will let go of your delusions, perhaps you will not lose everything. But I can assure you of this," he turned his back on the Sith Lord once more. "This Empire will survive … with or without its Emperor."

He marched away, his black cloak swirling about him, refusing to look back. In his younger days, he never would have turned his back on such a dangerous threat. It would have been all too easy for the Emperor to launch another attack, one that would bring him to his knees and rip away his life. But Darth Vader knew that such an attack would not come.

The balance of power between Master and Apprentice had been forever shifted. And both of them knew it.

* * *

Emperor Palpatine watched numbly as his greatest servant turned his back upon him, stepped into the turbolift, and disappeared from sight. For several long minutes, he simply stared at the place where Darth Vader had vanished as he attempted to form a coherent though his shock, rage, and inexplicable sense of fear. He was a master of the Force, and few things happened that he did not foresee. But never in his darkest nightmares could he have dreamed that Vader's hidden rebellious inclinations would erupt into the flagrant defiance that he had just witnessed.

As Darth Sidious, he knew the history of the Sith Order, as well as the nature of the Rule of Two. He had believed that Darth Vader's stirrings were nothing more than an echo of what he himself had felt when he began to plot the overthrow of his own master, Darth Plagueis. He had not been particularly concerned; after all, his previous apprentices, Darth Maul and Darth Tyrannus, had both experienced similar discontent. Neither one had gathered up the courage to act upon them, and both had died before their ambitions could evolve into a serious threat.

This new development, however, unnerved him greatly. Vader had openly admitted that he intended to seize power from Sidious's grip, but unlike the others, his motivation did not seem to be a desire for the title of Sith Master and the ancient power it gave him. Vader wanted to overthrow him because he wanted control of the Empire, the chance to impose his own vision of order on the galaxy.

It was unthinkable. The Empire was _his_, and his alone. Without him, it would not exist. Vader might have been the hammer that crushed his opposition and forged the military strength necessary to maintain control of the galaxy, but he, Palpatine, was the mastermind. It had been he who had laid the foundations of the New Order, he by whose strength of will it had brought into being. For five years his apprentice had accepted that truth, serving him without question. Then, just after the unveiling of the Death Star, the ultimate weapon that would cement his hold on the galaxy for all time, Darth Vader had chosen to break away from him, deciding that the lives of a million insignificant beings were more important than obeying his master's will.

Consumed by rage, he had tried to destroy his apprentice. And he had failed.

Failure tasted sour on the Emperor's lips; he could not abide it. He realized now, in hindsight, that he had made a catastrophic mistake. He had given Vader an opening, shown him weakness, something his apprentice had probably been seeking for years. After swearing that he would never allow such a thing to happen, he had given his apprentice the justification he needed to remove him from his throne.

The words of his long-dead predecessor Darth Bane echoed in his mind, the fundamental tenants that the legendary Sith Lord had laid down as the basis for his Rule of Two.

_Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it, for the strong must rule. When the apprentice surpasses the Master, the Master must fall ..._

Vader could not have surpassed him. He absolutely refused to consider the possibility. Not only was he one of the strongest ever to wear the mantle of a Sith Lord, but Vader was limited by the armor the Emperor himself had placed upon him. Perhaps before his injuries Vader might have dreamed of surpassing him, but not now …

All the same, he could not shake the fear that had leapt into his heart when Vader succeeded in turning the lightning back at him. Never before had it been done. The fact that his apprentice had withstood the attack despite the crippling restraints of his suit told Palpatine that within the shell of that black armor lived a will that was every bit as strong as his own.

If Vader's will could not be broken, then there was a chance that he might be able to withstand his master long enough to destroy him …

_I warned you that this would happen._

Palpatine jerked in surprise. He should have known that having drawn so deeply within to the Force in his musings, they would not have escaped the notice of his legacy …

_When you chose to violate the Rule of Two and take Kenobi as your apprentice, I told you that you were taking a very serious risk. We forced this destiny upon him because we believed it to be the only way to lead Skywalker to his true path. The effects of such an action could not be predicted. Now, as I feared, Kenobi seeks to overstep his bounds and use the power of Vader to fulfill his own ends._

"Do not patronize me, Bane," Palpatine snarled. "I have suffered enough insubordination for one day."

A ghostly image of the famous Dark Lord materialized before Palpatine in precisely the same spot where had Vader stood only minutes before. The Emperor's eyes narrowed angrily as they fixated on the cold, malevolent face of his predecessor. Bane smiled.

_I am not subject to your orders, Lord Sidious. My strength lies in the Force, and its will is my will._

"Well, then," Palpatine said coldly, gripping the arms of his throne and leaning back to rest more comfortably against its back, "Perhaps you will illuminate me as to why the Force is conspiring against me."

Bane's pale eyes narrowed. _Do not make such crude assumptions. The Force is not conspiring against you. It is merely trying to set right the wrong which has been done to it._

Palpatine raised a sardonic eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Bane's thin lips twisted into a knowing, yet cryptic smile. _You must answer a question first. Why did you want two apprentices to begin with?_

Palpatine laughed. "Why wouldn't I? The power that Skywalker and Kenobi could together unleash …"

Bane cut him off. _Do not lie to me, Lord Sidious. As the face of the legacy of hundreds of generations of Sith Lords, I am a part of you. I know you better than you know yourself. There is another reason. Examine it now, or you will repeat your mistakes._

Palpatine grimaced. It was true that the main reason that he had wanted both Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi as his apprentices was the lure of having two of the most powerful users of the Force as his right and left hands, unmatched instruments of his will. Had he possessed both five years ago, as he had originally planned, he might not have even needed the Death Star. However, an equally pressing but hidden reason was that deep down, he had believed that it would minimize the threat to him. Having to keep one eye on the other would have meant that his two apprentices would never have been able to fixate fully on him, and as such, never make a true bid to seize his power or his mantle.

_There you have it, Lord Sidious. You allowed your fear of being supplanted to overcome your understanding that there must only be two Sith. It is necessary for the balance and health of our order. Fear of loss is every bit as dangerous to a ruler as arrogance or excessive pride. You, my friend, have been afflicted with all of these vices._

The Emperor was sorely tempted to remind Bane that there was also a reason why he had never managed to unite the galaxy under Sith rule, but he somehow restrained himself. In the turbulent void of his confusion and anger, Bane's words were the only thing that seemed to promise a definitive answer. Unwillingly curious, he allowed the thinly veiled insult to slide.

"So it is the will of the Force that I be content with one apprentice?"

_It is the will of the Force that the coming of its anointed is not opposed. Anakin Skywalker is ready to embrace his destiny._

Palpatine frowned, but his heart rate had begun to increase noticeably. "Anakin has resisted the call of his destiny for years, in far more desperate circumstances than he finds himself now. Why is this now the right moment for him to embrace it?"

_Because he has finally seen that it is inevitable. He no longer has the conviction to resist it._

Palpatine laughed. "Then the time has come for me to compel him to take the final step."

Bane's voice was suddenly laced with annoyance. _Have you heard nothing that I have said, Lord Sidious? There is a serious issue at hand that must be resolved first. Kenobi has gone rouge. He will not yield up the mantle of Lord Vader to its rightful owner._

Palpatine's eyes narrowed, glaring intently at Bane. "So he must be supplanted, then?"

Bane's lips curled into a cold smile. _Unless you would prefer that Kenobi and Skywalker unite to tear you from your throne and fulfill the terms of the Rule of Two themselves, then yes._

Palpatine's mind was racing. The idea of facing down Lord Vader after what had just transpired between them was not a prospect that he relished. On the other hand, if he could get Skywalker to fall before then and manipulate him into destroying Vader, then a dangerous and immediate threat to his throne would be eliminated, and he would have a new apprentice, the one he had wanted from the beginning, better than the first …

At the same time, the knowledge of the wrath he would face if he did not succeed haunted him. He would be playing with fire, hot enough and wild enough to consume him if so much as one thing went wrong …

Bane sensed what he was thinking, and his hesitation. The ancient Sith's smile became a sneer. _Do what you will, Lord Sidious. If the only way that you can solve this problem is to turn these two warriors against each other, then I would advise you to act quickly. Holding two such tremendous wielders of the Force in close proximity will be incredibly dangerous and completely unpredictable. You may find that it is too much for you to handle. For while these two men of destiny may be able to coexist for a while, in the end, there can only be one._

Palpatine did not answer. Bane, seeming to feel that nothing more needed to be said, melted back into the Force and settled once more into his dark haven within the soul of the Dark Side of the Force.

The Emperor was left alone, his great mind racing with a thousand radical ideas and schemes, but he could not rid himself from the last echo of Bane's final words.

_There can only be one._

He did not know if he could trust the spirit of his predecessor. Since his death, Bane had grown unbelievably cryptic, abandoning many of his old Sith values in favor of what he construed as the will of the Force. Palpatine remained unshaken in his belief that the Force was a weapon for him to subjugate and unleash. As the Master of the Dark Side, his will should be the only will that mattered.

_There can only be one._

There might be another way. Was he so sure of his plan that he was willing to sacrifice his most effective servant? What if he could hold both Skywalker and Vader long enough to completely subjugate all resistance in the galaxy? With the Death Star as the skifter up his sleeve, he would be able to entrench himself so firmly within the fabric of his Empire that when the time came, he could defy even death itself and remain the Master for all eternity.

Yet there was still the connection – the connection between Kenobi and Skywalker that after all these years had still not been severed completely. The longer they were in close proximity to each other, especially given his apprentice's open defiance and Skywalker's untamable pride, there was a chance that they would bond enough to resist his attempts to keep them independent of each other and unite to overthrow him. There was even the slightest, ever so slightest chance that Skywalker would not give into the Dark Side at all, and somehow drag Kenobi out of the darkness into the blinding, hated light.

There were too many questions, too many uncertainties, too many things that could go wrong. Normally, the Emperor relished such challenges, as only he had the brilliance and the foresight to craft the perfect plan that would address them all. But now, his thoughts were scattered and his fear was overbearing. There was only one voice that could be heard above the roar, one voice that promised salvation and the key to domination of the galaxy.

_There can only be one._

Palpatine sighed and leaned back once more into the depths of his throne.

"So be it."

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Amidst the happiness of the Skywalker's family reunion, the leaders of the Rebellion receive a cryptic message that may prompt them to accelerate their plans for restoring freedom to the galaxy. Meanwhile, Lord Vader receives a message of his own from a hidden source, and as he prepares to act upon it he ponders what must be done if he is to overthrow the Emperor ..._


	54. Messages and Musings

All right, its been a while since the last update. With one thing and then another, I'm now behind schedule and will have to rush to finish this story before I head off to college. If I don't get it done, I'll probably have to take another long hiatus so that I can adjust to my new surroundings, so keep your fingers crossed.

This is probably the slowest-pace chapter left in the story, which is why it took so long. It may drag at points, but more exciting events are right around the corner!

* * *

**Chapter 54**

Coruscant was yielding peacefully to the night. Though activity on the city planet never truly ceased, the rapid pace of life for the upper levels was slowing. Several lights in the highest and grandest towers were being extinguished, and the normally overflowing lanes of traffic were slowing to a gentle trickle. The lower levels of the city, the havens for the notorious nightclubs and illicit enterprises, were also much more subdued than usual. Recognizing that the smoky confines of seedy midnight lounges could be used to conceal much more sinister and threatening ventures, the Empire had imposed a curfew for the inhabitants of the galactic capital. Only those with official clearance were allowed to move freely through the city's twisting pathways with impunity, and those who were caught moving into the open by the endless patrols were subject to the strictest punishment. The result was that at this dark hour, Coruscant's once bustling underlevels were almost completely silent.

But beneath the streets on which the soldiers patrolled, Coruscant was coming _alive_.

In the shadowy caverns that stretched beneath an abandoned industrial park, an army was gathering. They were a motley assortment, armed with everything from stolen blaster rifles to bits of twisted scrap metal torn from the foundations of skyscrapers. All species, races, ages and both sexes were represented, filling the enormous cavern to its farthest reaches. Still more lingered in the dank passageways, listening for signs of impending danger. All were waiting, waiting for the one who had summoned them to appear. Thousands of eyes watched the high balcony that jutted out from the cavern wall above them, some filled with reverence, others with fear … all with anticipation.

A handful of figures milled about on the balcony, surveying the mob beneath them. Like their colleagues, they were an odd assortment, having come from a wide variety of backgrounds. Those faces that could be seen were well known to the constituents gathered beneath them, but their appearance did not cause a stir. They were not who the mob had come to see.

Suddenly, a hush fell. Those standing on the balcony went rigid and hurried moved to take flanking positions on either side of the platform. The resonating acoustics of the cavern carried the sound of footsteps to the ears of the waiting fugitives, and everyone held their breath.

Then, out of the looming archway behind the balcony stepped a tall figure, swathed from head to toe in robes of pure black. Power radiated from its very being, the sort of energy one would expect to find only in the heart of a burning star. A hood obscured the figure's features, which seemed to be cloaked in an unnatural darkness. Only the eyes shone through, bright and vengeful, locked with singular determination on an enemy that could not be seen. The figure moved with a slow, deliberate grace to the edge of the balcony where it stopped and stared down at the beings assembled below.

A deafening roar went up from the crowd, ten thousand voices raised in fevered approval. The echoes of their cry reverberated throughout the cavern and through the labyrinth of shrouded passageways, shaking the foundations of the city itself. Madness reigned as voices that had spoken for so long only in whispers unsealed their ravaged throats, lifting up their defiance for the galaxy to hear.

The tall figure raised a gloved hand and made a short gesture with his fist. Ten thousand voices were instantly silenced.

The figure spoke, its deep, powerful voice filling the cavern every bit as much as the battle cry only moments before. The waiting army held its breath, enraptured by presence and mystique of the one who embodied their hope, their discontent, and their burning desire for liberation.

"_The moment we have been waiting for approaches_," the figure intoned. "_This time … your time … is nearly at hand_."

Another roar of approval went up from the crowd, but as the figure continued to speak, it quieted once again.

"_For five years you have suffered, you have been oppressed; you have lived constantly in fear. It will no longer be so. Your voice is the voice of the people, and it will be heard_."

The figure raised its arms above its head and its voice became a thunderous call. "_Every new seed that wishes to grow must break through the soil. Every river seeking a new path must force its way through the rock. Every light seeking to shine must burn its way through the darkness. The date has been set. The wheel has been set in motion. If you want your freedom, that right which should not be denied to anyone, then the time has come for you to take it!_"

The crowd unleashed a roar that could not be restrained. Weapons were thrust into the air and ground shook as if the planet itself had joined the revolution. The figure allowed the arms that it had raised into the air to fall to its sides, then turned its head to whisper something to the being standing in closest proximity. The lieutenant leaned close to hear over the deafening crowd, but he needn't have bothered. Somehow, the Leader's whisper overrode the sound.

"_Send the message_."

* * *

The first day of Luke and Leia's visit was drawing to a close, and the sound of laughter filled the Skywalkers' quarters. It was a joyful, innocent sound that took away all the painful memories of a home that had been empty for too long. In the living room, the couches and tables had been pushed off to the side to clear an open space in which Luke, Leia, and Jadon now sat, playing with an assortment of toys and talking so rapidly that it was hard for anyone but them to understand what was going on. The three adults had taken part in the fun for several happy hours, but now they had retired to the kitchen to watch the children caper about and have some time to their selves.

Padmé sighed wistfully as she watched them revel in each other's company without a care in the world. What a treat this must be for them. Given the livelihoods of their adoptive guardians, Luke and Leia probably had very few chances to interact with children their own age, and Jadon, of course, had spent nearly all of the early years of his life in secluded bases or military vessels. The three of them had taken to each other immediately, with Luke and Jadon bonding over their dreams of flying, and Leia winning them over with her charming good nature, combined with abundant stories about the wonders of her adoptive homeworld.

Leia, in particular, seemed remarkably mature for her age, yet in their games she was as innocent and carefree as any child that Padmé had ever seen. She reminded Padmé acutely of herself, before politics and the pressure of duty had taken over. Luke, on the other hand, was eternally mischievous, with the same daring gleam that she had noticed in the eyes of another boy who had grown up amidst the harsh sands of Tatooine. Padmé looked over at her husband, who was also staring at the children, and wondered if he was thinking exactly the same thing.

So far, the blissful reunion had gone undisturbed by summons from the galaxy at large. Bail had joined them for the first hour, but had finally excused himself on the grounds that he had a substantial amount of catching up to do on their affairs of the Council and the Rebellion as a whole. He had left promising to cover for the three of them, and caught up in the moment, Padmé had allowed Anakin to adjust their comm unit so that they only way they could be reached was over the emergency frequencies.

Their discussions, up to this point, had been light and cheerful, but suddenly things took a turn for the ominous. Sabé left the table briefly to stop Jadon from playing with an extremely beautiful and fragile Nubian vase that he had somehow managed to lift off of a high shelf in the bedroom. She came back looking white as a sheet.

"Sabé!" Padmé exclaimed, breaking off in mid-sentence the question that she had been posing to Anakin regarding whether she should prepare nerf steak or shaak filet for dinner that night. "What's the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost!"

Sabé sat down shakily in her seat, her hand trembling visibly. "I turned on the HoloNews for a moment while I was in your bedroom," she said quietly. "It's on every channel. Dantooine is gone."

Padmé felt as though an ice cube had been slipped into her stomach. She had not seen Sabé looking so disturbed since the aftermath of her last encounter with Darth Vader. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean _gone_," Sabé told her numbly. "The entire planet. It's been completely destroyed."

Padmé's breath froze in her throat. She looked anxiously over at Anakin, whose face had taken on the appearance of graven stone. She turned back to Sabé, desperate to know more. "How?"

"The Empire," Sabé said quietly. "Everyone seems to have a slightly different version, but the overall report is the same. A little over twenty-four standard hours ago, a massive foreign object entered the system: a space station the size of a small moon. They called it 'The Death Star'. It fell into orbit around the planet, a few short transmissions were exchanged, and then the station fired. One attack, and the planet was completely gone."

Padmé folded her hands in her lap; they were now shaking every bit as much as Sabé's. Her mind was numb with horror at the idea that millions of lives had been extinguished to prove a political point. Of all the atrocious crimes Palpatine had committed, none of them came close to this.

Finally, she found her voice. "Why haven't we heard about this before now? Dantooine is … was … one of our most important bases! We should have known minutes after this happened!"

"The HoloNet is under the control of the Empire," Anakin interjected, his voice remarkably calm given the surreal nature of the situation. "They withheld the information until this moment because the Emperor wants to achieve maximum impact … and maximum fear. I'm not surprised that the Alliance's agents hadn't tipped us off before now; if this station can destroy an entire planet, then I'm sure it can hold a jamming device powerful enough to prevent any distress calls the base may have sent out from reaching us."

He leaned back in his chair, looking tired and angry. "All the same, I can't believe that I didn't feel this in the Force. I guess I was too … distracted."

Padmé barely heard him. Her thoughts were flying through her mind too fast for them to take a permanent hold. "So this is the big project we've been hearing whispers about for years, but were never able to confirm anything about," she said grimly. "The Death Star … a superweapon powerful enough to annihilate an entire planet. No wonder the Empire has been so aggressive lately. With this kind of destructive power at his fingertips, he probably feels like he can bring the galaxy under his complete control."

"Still …" Sabé said tentatively. "That doesn't explain how they knew we were there. This is the second major stronghold that they've managed to locate, assault, and destroy in less than a week, and both times we didn't hear about until hours afterward. I know that the Empire's capability for subterfuge and concealment is immense, but this is beyond even their usual efficiency. How are they doing it?"

"Obvious," Anakin said coldly. Padmé looked over at him, and saw that his eyes had hardened into diamond-like chips of ice. "We have a traitor in our ranks."

There was a moment of silence in which the only audible sounds were the happy exclamations of the three children in the next room. Anakin's grim pronouncement hung in the air like the last breath of a dying man. Knowing that this could not last, Padmé forced herself to speak. "Don't say that, Anakin. We have no proof …"

"What about the attacks that we were just talking about?" Anakin cut her off abruptly. Padmé blinked and glared at him; it was most unlike Anakin to disregard her opinion in such a discussion. "What about the Imperial Consul who was collecting an entire database on the lives and whereabouts of our children? They had to get their information from somewhere!"

"Who do we know that would possibly commit such a heinous betrayal?" Padmé demanded.

"I'm not sure," Anakin told her, seeming to withdraw into his thoughts. "It would have to be someone very high up in the command structure, possibly on the Council …"

It was Padmé's turn to cut him off. She looked directly into her husband's eyes, her own deep brown orbs full of determined passion. "I absolutely refuse to believe that someone on the Council would sell us to the Empire."

"I was speculating, Padmé," Anakin said, returning her stare evenly. "I was speculating based on what we know. The fact is, if there is a traitor, then it would have to be someone with a substantial amount of power … someone who could not only pass valuable information along to Imperial agents, but also suppress information that he or she did not want to reach the rest of the Alliance."

"Anakin, we don't even know if there is a traitor!" Padmé exclaimed. "And the members of the Council have proved their loyalty day in and day out for the last five years!"

"I learned many things from my experience with the Jedi Council," Anakin retorted calmly, "but above all I learned that people holding onto positions of power are never what they seem to be. You can't trust any of them."

"Sabé!" Padmé turned to her lifelong friend, her frustration spilling onto her face. "Sabé, back me up here!"

Sabé sighed and pushed a loose strand of hair that had worked its way out of her bun back from her face. "I don't know what to tell you, Padmé," she said heavily. "I don't like to think that one of our own could betray us in such a manner. At the same time, what Anakin's saying makes sense. It would be very easy for someone on the Council to manipulate the events we've witnessed recently, particularly if they had ties to Intelligence …"

"Councilor Jostain?" Anakin suggested.

"No," Padmé said firmly. "I've known Cyrus Jostain for nearly twenty years. His homeworld of Duro has been devastated by Imperial attacks. He hates the Empire and everything it stands for."

"Dodanna?" Sabé asked.

Even Anakin shook his head. "Not likely."

"Well, we know it's not you or Bail," Sabé said firmly, nodding to Padmé. "There's Garm, but I can't see it. Not after what happened to Mon Mothma …"

There was a brief pause. Mon Mothma had disappeared five years ago when Chandrila became the first casualty of the new Empire. No one knew whether or not she was still alive, but given that Vader himself had led the assault, even Padmé found it hard to believe that her old friend could have survived.

"That leaves Giddean Danu, Chi Eekway, Bana Bremmu and Jan Carson," Anakin said calculatingly. "Carson seems like a good possibility; he only got the job after Fang Zar was killed …"

Sabé suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair, looking just as pale as she had been when she entered the room with news of the Death Star. Unlike then, however, she seemed to have been struck with a startling revelation. Anakin stopped in mid-sentence and Padmé looked warily at her friend, her inclinations torn between concern and apprehension. She had a feeling that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

"You know who it could be?" Sabé said quietly, seeming hesitant to speak as though uttering the words would make her suspicion more real. "Kothla Tral'fey."

Anakin's expression immediately became colder and more impenetrable than a glacier mountain. "There's an idea," he said in soft voice that carried a deadly current beneath it. "He may not be on the Council, but he's too close for my liking, and Force knows he always an agenda on some kind."

"He works in Intelligence, too," Sabé added in a hushed voice. "The head of the Bothan Spynet, right? It would be very easy for him to control what information reaches the Council …"

Padmé frowned, but her expression was not one of rebuke. A cold shiver had trailed down her spine at Sabé's words, leaving her chilled to the bone. She wanted to deny what her husband and her friend were saying: it seemed impossible in her rational mind that the arrogant, preening Bothan who had tried her patience on so many occasions was actually an Imperial spy. But try as she might, she could not shake the dark uneasiness that had stolen into her heart …

"What would Kothla stand to gain from colluding with Imperials?" she finally forced herself to ask, trying to sound casual. "You know as well as I do that the Emperor hates non-humans …"

"You would be surprised to know that that doesn't both a lot of them nearly as much as it should," Anakin told her. "For many of them, the lure of money and power are a lot stronger than the perks of citizenship. Maybe his handlers promised they would spare Bothawui, or even make him a provisional governor after the Alliance is destroyed."

"And Kothla hates the Jedi!" Sabé said quickly. "You've seen him rant about how it was the Jedi's weakness that brought down the Old Republic."

"I don't want to believe it," Padmé said firmly. "I don't like Kothla any more than you do, but I'm not going to accuse him of being a traitor without incontrovertible proof, and I don't want either of you to either. It's the sort of thing that he could use to his advantage to discredit you."

"Nevertheless, I'm keeping a close eye on him from now on," Anakin muttered harshly. "If it turns out that he's the one who's been feeding information on Luke and Leia to the Empire, then things aren't going to end well for him."

Padmé chose to remain silent. The memory of what Anakin had done to the Imperial Consul still hovered in the back of her mind.

A loud _clunk_ from the living room broke the momentary silence. It was followed by three raised, indignant voices. From what Padmé could see through the door, it seemed like Luke, Leia, and Jadon had been holding a contest, each of them using their rudimentary ability in the Force to levitate one of the heavy blocks that they had been playing with. All three of them had lost their concentration at the same moment, and now they were arguing about whose block had gone the highest.

"Mine was highest!" Jadon exclaimed.

"No, it wasn't," Luke shot back. "It was mine!"

"No way!" Leia said defiantly. "Mine was higher than both of yours!"

Padmé sighed and pushed herself out of her chair, glad for an opportunity to break off their discussion about the potentially questionable loyalties of Kothla Tral'fey. She strode over to the doorway and put her hands on her hips, trying to keep a smile from her face and look stern. "That's enough, you three! Shouting is no way to settle an argument."

Luke and Leia immediately looked sheepish and grinned shamefully up at their mother. Jadon, who had received several similar admonishments from Padmé before, merely giggled.

The smile that Padmé was trying to suppress began to force its way onto her face, despite her resolve. "It doesn't matter whose block went the highest; all three of you were very impressive. Why don't you think of something else fun to do?"

There was a brief silence as the three children debated the question silently in their minds. Then …

"Let's jump on the bed!" Luke exclaimed.

"Yes!" Leia squealed. "Pillow fight on the bed!"

Padmé's expression became stern once again. "Absolutely not. Your father and I have to sleep in there."

"Come on, Padmé, let them have their fun," Anakin called, a mischievous grin crawling across his face when his wife turned to glare at him. "You know that we're just going to mess it up again later."

Padmé gave him a meaningful look and turned back to the children. "All right, you can do it. Just try to keep it under control, okay? I don't want any of you getting hurt."

The twins cheered and rushed into the bedroom, Jadon right on their heels. "Hey, don't start wiv'out me!"

Padmé shook her head and turned back to Anakin, who was leaning comfortably back in his chair. "You're as bad as they are, you know that?"

Anakin grinned and was about to make a playful retort to her when suddenly Padmé's comlink went off. He sighed in annoyance as Padmé shot him an apologetic look and activated the channel. "Yes?"

"Padmé, it's Bail." Her old friend's voice was simultaneously filled with excitement and apprehension. "Can you tell Anakin to get down to Central Control right away? Master Yoda just arrived, and he wants to see him."

Padmé glanced over at her husband in surprise. Anakin's grin had vanished, and Padmé knew that he had heard every word. "Yes, of course, Bail, but if your message is for Anakin why didn't you just call on his channel?"

"Because you're the main reason I called," Bail answered. "I need all Council members to assemble at Central Control as well. We've received a priority message with some very interesting contents."

The tone of Bail's voice raised the former senator's interest. "Who's this message from?"

"The Leader."

Padmé nearly dropped the comlink. To cover her shock, she gripped it even tighter and looked over at her husband and her friend. Both of them were staring at her as though they could not believe what they had just heard.

"What's the nature of this message?" she asked hesitantly. "Is it friendly or hostile?"

"I can't tell you anything over the comm channel," Bail said firmly. "I need you all to get down here as soon as you can."

Padmé nodded. "We'll be there in five minutes."

"Good."

Padmé switched off the comlink and looked over at Anakin, who had already stood up and was heading for the door. "If Yoda has something else he wants to talk to me about, I'd better get down there now. This is big."

Padmé nodded and kissed him on the cheek as he walked by. "I'll be up there as soon as I can get Luke and Leia to settle down."

The Jedi nodded and swept out of the room. Padmé and Sabé made their way to the bedroom door, where Luke, Leia and Jadon were in the midst of a rowdy pillow fight.

"All right, I'm sorry, but you three have to stop now!" Padmé called, raising her voice so that it could be heard above the din. "It's almost your bedtime anyway. Aunt Sabé, your father, and I have to leave for a little while, but Threepio will be here to tuck you in and read you a story."

The three children groaned audibly at this news. Padmé guessed that Jadon had filled the twins in on Threepio's idea of a good bedtime story.

"Come on, it won't be that bad," she told them. "It will help you fall asleep, at any rate."

The twins jumped off the bed and landed smoothly on the floor in front of their mother. Jadon followed them.

"Where are you and Father going?" Leia asked primly.

"It's just a meeting with some other grown-ups," Padmé assured her. "We'll be back before you wake up."

"Are you going to talk about fighting the Empire?" Luke asked eagerly.

"I bet they are!" Jadon exclaimed. "No one's better at fighting the Empire than Uncle Ani!"

"Calm down, Jadon," Sabé told her son soothingly, placing her hands on his shoulders to stop him from bouncing around. "It's nothing like that. Your Uncle Ani isn't going to be fighting anyone."

Her words didn't seem to register with Jadon, who turned and looked over at Luke and Leia, nodding matter-of-factly. "Wait until I tell you some of the stories Uncle Ani told me about fighting the Empire! Every time they try to stop him he kicks their butts like they're …"

What followed was a Huttese curse word so foul that the two women froze and stared down at the four year old boy in shock. Luke and Leia, obviously not understanding, giggled furiously and Jadon beamed, his blue eyes twinkling with pure innocence.

After several stunned moments had passed, Sabé turned glared at her friend out of her deep brown eyes.

"Your husband," she said menacingly. "Is in _so_ much trouble."

* * *

One step. One agonizing breath.

The Dark Lord of the Sith ignored his pain and forced himself to move forward again, drawing upon his anger to give him strength. Anger at his condition was the easiest to summon, followed by anger at the man who had inflicted his injuries and anger that the man who had lied to him and made him dependent on his metal prison. Finally, there was anger at himself … for being so weak, having to struggle to do something so simple as _breathe_. Determinedly, he lunged forward again, refusing to let himself fall, refusing to let any of his weakness show on the surface. When the time came to do what was necessary, it was the strong who would survive, and the weak who would perish.

Twenty nine steps … thirty … never had he made it this far. But the agony was worsening, the simple effort of drawing a breath becoming too much for him to take. Dark spots were gathering in his vision, and his brain was pleading with him to pass out, but he refused to give in. He stumbled, and a hand reached out to steady him. He shoved it angrily away. He would finish this task alone, or else his body would fail him utterly.

The Sith Lord kept his fiery red eyes focused straight ahead on the bubble that meant success and salvation. His breath was now coming in shallow, ragged gasps, so different from the smooth, deep respiration that he was used to, that he hated. This suffering was refreshing in a way. It was through suffering that he had gained true power and true understanding. It was through suffering that he had been reborn.

_Forty-five … forty-six … forty-seven …_

His lungs were failing him, his heart was pumping so fast that he thought it might burst, but his will remained strong … unbreakable …

_Forty-eight … forty-nine … fifty!_

He reached the bubble at the same moment that his legs gave out from beneath him. At once a pair of strong arms seized him and hauled him completely into the protection of his specially-designed meditation sphere. With a pneumatic hiss, the chamber sealed itself, and sweet, life-giving oxygen poured into the Dark Lord's lungs. As wonderful as the air was, however, it could not compare to the feeling of elated relief that cascaded through his body as if he had submerged himself in a waterfall. He had done it …

"May I speak freely, My Lord?"

Darth Vader opened his eyes and looked up into the startlingly blue face and deep red eyes of Commander Mirthrada Nuruodo, his longtime friend, his trusted physician, and the only person whom he would ever allow to see him in such a state. A smile rose to his pale, scarred lips.

"You may, Commander."

Mirthrada looked coldly at him. "That was, without a doubt, the single most reckless, foolhardy, and dangerous thing that I have ever seen you do." The smallest hint of a smile touched the corners of his thin, alien mouth. "But it worked."

Vader laughed softly. It was the first time he could recall laughing in several years; the physiology of his life-support suit would not permit it. The laugh sounded slightly mangled, given that he had forced it through his scarred and damaged throat, but still, it was a laugh.

"Yes, it did, didn't it?"

He pushed himself up off the floor and eased himself into the special chair in the center of the sphere. Reflected in the glossy coating of the shell's interior, he could see his face, pale, gaunt, and scarred, but still recognizable as the face of the man he had been before his fall on Mustafar. Now that he was no longer in the throes of rage, his eyes shone a clear, piercing blue. His thinner, but still muscular body was clad not in his armor, but in a clean, white medical robe. The only indications that he had become part machine were his two metal lower legs, just visible beneath the bottom of his robe, and his mechanical right forearm. It was odd to see himself in such a manner, so very different from the fearsome dark figure that commanded the Imperial Fleet and enforced the will of the Empire throughout the galaxy. In this state, it was easy to imagine that the legendary Dark Lord of the Sith and the pale man who bore the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi were, in fact, two different people. But they were one in the same, and they always had been.

"We made a significant breakthrough today," Nuruodo said, and Vader ceased searching his own reflection to examine his associate's contemplation. "If you are able to maintain and build on this level of fitness outside of your life-support suit, then I see no reason to think why you cannot be free of it in approximately one standard year."

Vader sighed in disappointment. "No sooner?"

Nuruodo shrugged. "From what I have learned of you, Lord Vader, I know that you are a practical man. I do not believe that you would want to weaken your position by abandoning the suit that has kept you alive, unless you could be absolutely sure that you could function at full strength without it. Even if your lungs have begun to heal, we still face a period of extensive rehabilitation for your muscles and your other internal organ systems. Another year in the suit is your best-case scenario."

Vader's blue eyes darkened slightly, but he chose not to argue further. "Very well."

Nuruodo examined the Sith Lord's face intently, his solid red eyes searching for an answer that lay just beneath the surface. "If I may ask, My Lord, why the sudden desire to be rid of the suit? I know that it limits both your mobility and your connection to the Force, but I thought that you had come to believe that the advantages it offered were enough to offset those restrictions."

Vader surveyed his associate appraisingly. Nuruodo was very smart and incredibly perceptive; he would be able to see through any lie that the Sith Lord could draw up. Vader was not sure how much of his developing plan he was ready to move into the open, but he had to admit that if there was one person who could be trusted with such information, it was Mirthrada Nuruodo. He decided to proceed cautiously.

"Before I answer your question, I would like you to tell me something first, Mirthrada," he said casually. "What do you think of the current direction of the Empire?"

Nuruodo's face remained expressionless. Vader gathered that he had picked up on what Vader actually meant: he wanted Nuruodo's opinion on the Emperor's leadership. "May I speak freely, My Lord?"

Vader raised an eyebrow, which was significant because he actually had eyebrows now. Though he remained completely bald, his facial hair follicles were actually responding to the treatment he had recently undergone. There was a chance that he might be able to grow a beard soon; however, the prospect did not appeal to him much. Five years under a mask had given him an appreciation for being clean-shaven.

"You know that in this particular environment, you are always free to speak freely, Mirthrada."

The corner of Nuruodo's lips twitched. "Assumptions are dangerous things, My Lord. As a soldier, I prefer to rely on what I know."

Vader chuckled. Such a sharp exchange reminded him of why he liked the Chiss exile so much. They were of like mind.

"Go on, then. You have permission to speak freely."

"The Emperor is an effective ruler," Nuruodo said evenly. "He is a master of manipulation, capable of getting even the most disadvantageous situations to work in his favor, and he maintains control of the Empire's political structure extremely well. However, he is overconfident to a fault. He has a tendency to ignore the ramifications of his plans when they do not fall in line with the Empire's best interest, and he is constantly underestimating his adversaries. In doing so, he risks the destabilization of his entire regime."

Vader smiled inwardly. "So you are suggesting that the Empire would be a more effective government with someone else on the throne?"

Nuruodo did not blink. "Yes."

Vader laughed softly. "Such a claim could be considered treasonous, Commander."

"I am aware that it could be construed as such," Nuruodo admitted, his red eyes locking sharply onto Vader's blue ones. "But I would not have voiced it if I did not suspect that My Lord was thinking along the exact same lines."

A true smile rose onto Vader's scarred lips. "Assumptions are dangerous things, Mirthrada."

"Some assumptions have stronger grounds than others," Nuruodo countered, a smile rising on his own face to match Vader's. "They form the basis for what we call instinct."

"Your instincts have saved my life more than once, Mirthrada," Vader said approvingly. His concerns about revealing the sensitive nature of his plans to the Chiss operative were slipping away. "Suppose that the Empire were to undergo a change in leadership. About what percentage of the Imperial Navy do you believe would be supportive of such a change?"

"Many of the important fleet groups are loyal first and foremost to the Empire," Nuruodo said pensively, his sharp jaw tightening as he considered the question. "They venerate the Emperor, but they recognize that he is flawed. I believe that those groups assigned to the Mid and Outer Rims – those that have been forced to clean up the many messes left by the Emperor's ill-conceived plans – would be particularly inclined to welcome a shift in power and strategy."

"What about those in the Core?"

"That is where it becomes more uncertain. The Emperor is innately suspicious, and he has taken care to surround the seat of his power with those fleet commanders in whom he has the most confidence. Many of them have been hand-picked, and they are loyal to Palpatine above all else, even the Empire. You would be hard-pressed to convince them.

"Overall, I estimate that approximately fifty percent of our current forces would welcome the change without undue discontent, and at least a third of the remainder could be convinced to accept it in the best interests of the Empire."

Vader nodded. Mirthrada's projections were in line with what he had already suspected. Seizing control now was a logistical possibility, but it would also set of several years of strife and turmoil within the Empire which Vader did not want or need. When the time came to remove Palpatine, he wanted the transition to be seamless. That was not a realistic goal until both the Rebellion was vanquished and he had returned to his full functionality, unless …

Unless he had someone else to aid him. Someone who could not only stand beside him when the time came to confront the Emperor, but who through strength of will could help him to bring the rebellious factions of the galaxy under control. If only Anakin could be persuaded to see the truth …

He could not count on that, however. Obi-Wan's former apprentice had proved time and time again that his primary concern lay with his family. He was willing to condemn the galaxy to war and disorder as long as Padmé and their twins were safe, and as far as Vader was prepared to go, he was determined not to hunt down the children for leverage against their father, no matter how dangerous they might grow up to become. The Sith Lord had decided long ago that he would never again sacrifice the innocent merely to achieve victory. That kind of cowardly, underhanded act was the sort of thing Palpatine was all too willing to perform, and it was that precise quality that made him unfit to rule.

So Anakin remained free, and yet still a prisoner to the delusions of the vanquished Jedi. In the meantime, Vader would have to work with what he had. As Dark Lord of the Sith, with the might of the Force at his command, he was far from powerless.

He returned his attention to Nuruodo. "What about your brother? As I recall, it was Palpatine who saved the two of you after you were exiled from the Chiss."

"He offered us amnesty in exchange for service, yes," Nuruodo admitted. "But Admiral Thrawn will not allow that to cloud his views on what his best for both the Empire and the soldiers under his command. He knows as well as I do that Lord Sidious was merely capitalizing on our moment of weakness. He would side with you."

Vader smiled in understanding and was about to respond when the sphere's comm unit blared to life. Concealing his annoyance at the interruption, Vader flipping the switch to activate the channel, making sure to only enable the audio component of the transmission. "What is it?"

Captain Seti Roswall's voice filtered in over the channel. If he noticed that Vader had spoken in normal human tones, rather than his usual mechanically-filtered one, he had the sense not to mention it. "My Lord, we are receiving an incoming transmission from an agent desiring to speak to you directly. The transmission is being broadcast using a high-security Rebel code."

Vader's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. He had not arranged for one of the many agents he had planted in the Alliance command structure to contact him today, and if his agents had broken protocol, they certainly would not have risked exposing themselves by broadcasting their transmission on a high-security Alliance frequency. This had to be the infamous traitor who had been supplying the Emperor's agents with information on the Rebellion's political workings, as well as the locations of certain crucial bases that had recently been destroyed. The Dark Lord had long ago confirmed his suspicions as to the identity of this highly-placed asset, but he had never before established direct contact. This could prove interesting.

"Thank you, Captain. Tell our friend that I shall grant him an audience momentarily."

Yes, My Lord."

Vader turned to Nuruodo, who had already risen to leave. "We will continue our sessions at a later time, Commander. In the meantime, I know that I can trust you not to reveal the nature of our discussion to anyone. Nevertheless, be cautious. Now that my master believes me to be a threat to him, he will be seeking to undermine me in any way that he can."

Nuruodo bowed respectfully. "I have never betrayed your confidence, My Lord. I do not intend to start now."

Vader nodded in appreciation and pressed a button to break the seal on the sphere. With a whirl of his cloak, the Chiss operative swept out of its confines and disappeared from sight.

Vader sealed the sphere again, then reactivated the channel. "Patch it through, Captain."

"Lord Vader?"

A new voice came over the channel, its normally smooth tones distorted by interference and the audible hint of fear. The Dark Lord of the Sith smiled coldly. Normally, he despised using traitors to gather information: they always had a personal agenda which made things needlessly complicated. However, he was willing to put aside his contempt if the information this asset could provide proved useful.

"You are speaking with him," he answered, his voice carrying a condemning tone. On the other end of the line, he could imagine the traitor flinching. "What is your purpose in seeking this audience?"

The Rebel did not seem to have heard him. "Is this line secure?"

"Unlike the Rebellion, the Empire does not have to pirate technology, my friend," Vader said menacingly. "You can be assured that the integrity of our conversation will not be breached."

The filtered voice sounded slightly more reassured. "Good. I fear that I may be falling under suspicion. My regular contact – the Imperial Consul on Kuat – was killed four days ago."

"Your contact was killed because he became overconfident and stuck his neck out too far," Vader retorted calmly. "You will be safe as long as you do not make the safe mistake. Now, instead of dwelling on your fear of retribution, why don't you tell me why taking this call was worth my time?"

The agent's voice dropped to a lower volume, despite Vader's prior assurance that the channel was secure. "If you can gather sufficient force for a major operation in less than twenty-four standard hours, I can hand you the heart of the Rebellion."

Something stirred in Vader's heart, a dark emotion somewhere between eagerness and anger. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Senator Organa has gathered all of the Rebellion's highest ranking political and military officials to discuss a transmission that they received today from the Leader," the agent responded. Without warning, his tone was suddenly laden with pure malice. "Jedi Knights Skywalker and Yoda are among them."

Vader leaned forward in his chair, his face darkening. "You have my attention. Keep talking."

"We are currently convened on the Assault Frigate _Liberty_, in orbit around Sullust. It is a large ship and well-defended, but we are currently alone. Senator Organa is summoning other fleet elements to rendezvous at this location."

Vader leaned back in his chair, making some quick calculations in his mind. Sullust was relatively close; the _Reaper_ would be able make it to the system in just a few hours. If he could time this strike right, he would be able to wipe out the entire Alliance Council and a good number of its high-ranking military commanders. If he execute this perfectly it would spell the death knell for the Alliance. But there we still some unknown factors left to consider. "How long would it take for those elements to arrive?"

"We have three heavy cruisers stationed near Eriadu that could be here in just under three hours. More could arrive from Naboo in six."

It would be a race, then. If he was going to act, Vader wanted to make sure that the Council, and more importantly, the Jedi, did not have the chance to get away. This might be his one chance to capture Anakin, and so gain a crucial advantage over his master.

"Would it be possible for you to delay their reinforcements?"

"If you desire, I can route them false coordinates for the rendezvous and jam all emergency frequencies. They will not realize what has happened until it is too late."

"You have covered all your bases," Vader said approvingly. "However, I am not inclined to believe that you intend to carry out this open betrayal of your fellow Rebels merely to escape execution for treason. What do you hope to get out of this?"

"I laid out my terms with my previous contact, who presented them to the Emperor. In addition to my just compensation, I want my homeworld to be spared from any further political or military suffering at the hands of the Empire. On a personal note, I will have the satisfaction of knowing that the last relevant vestiges of the Jedi Order have been destroyed."

"Ah," Vader smiled coldly. "You blame the Jedi for what has happened to your homeworld?"

"The Jedi's corruption and incompetence is the reason that the Old Republic fell," the agent snarled. "Because of them, my planet and countless others across the galaxy find themselves in dire straits."

"You can be assured," Vader told him, "that the Jedi in question will be dealt with appropriately."

There was a definitive note of satisfaction in the agent's voice, but to Vader's annoyance, he pressed on. "There is also another issue. Given my high placement in the Alliance command structure, it would very suspicious if I were absent from the proceedings in the time leading up to the attack. I shall need a guarantee for my safety …"

"There can be no guarantee," Vader said with cold finality. "I will not waste this opportunity by showing restraint. My forces will strike hard and fast, showing none of the mercy that is customary to your Rebel colleagues. I suggest that you devise your own means of securing your safe passage, because I will not concern myself with it."

"Very well," the agent muttered bitterly. "I shall devise something."

"We are honing in on your location now," Vader told him. "Keep Organa and the rest of the Council occupied. If they escape, your life, as well as your reward, will be forfeit."

"I will not fail, Lord Vader," the agent said darkly. "I have no tolerance for failure."

"In that, my friend," Vader answered, "we are of like mind."

He terminated the connection, then immediately patched his comm through to the _Reaper_'s bridge. "Captain, set the fastest possible course for Sullust. Alert the _Vengeance_ and the _Chimera_ that they are to join us as well."

"At once, My Lord."

Vader disabled the comm unit once more, then pressed a button on the arm of his chair. The mediation sphere opened to admit two medical droids with blunt heads and flashing red eyes. The chair Vader was sitting in reclined and reformed into a long medical table, on which he lay, motionless, while the droids made preparations to encase him in his oppressive life-support suit once more.

The process was long, invasive, and incredibly painful, yet Vader refused any anesthesia or pain-killing drugs for the procedure. He lay on his back for what seemed like an eternity while the droids stripped off his robe and slowly, agonizingly, began to affix the armored plates that kept him sealed off from the rest of the galaxy.

He knew that there were alternatives to this suffering. Over the past five years he had delved into an archive of Sith holocrons, searching for a way to restore himself to his full strength. He had found that there were ancient Sith techniques for restoring and rebuilding a body as damaged as his was, but he had decided, for now, not to attempt them. The effort it would take and the sheer amount of Dark Side energy it required would almost certainly kill him, and even if he did survive, there was no guarantee that he would be able to maintain control. He might end up even more ravaged than before. More than one Dark Lord of the Sith had met his end by overstepping his bounds in the throes of arrogance. Vader, only too aware of his own mortality, was determined to re-forge himself through endurance. His pain was not a weakness, it was a strength. Drawing upon it had allowed him to survive where others had died, to succeed where countless others had failed.

Mired in a haze of pain and light, his thoughts began to drift. He felt sure that he was making the right decision by ordering this attack, but he knew from prior experience that this was the sort of operation which he had very little control over once it began. There would be casualties, many of them. He had no objections to slaughtering traitors, but he did not enjoy causing pointless death, and in the chaos that was sure to follow his attack, lives could be lost that he hoped to preserve. A major objective of this offensive was to capture his former apprentice, and while he was confident that Anakin would find a way to survive the boarding, he was not above doing something rash if Padmé found her way into the line of fire …

There was another problem. As a committed leader of the Council, Padmé had done more than enough to warrant execution for her crimes against the Empire. Vader did not want to be the one to condemn her. He believed that she could be a valuable asset to the New Order once the Emperor had been taken care of and the Rebellion had been permanently subdued. However, the most important thing was that he find a way to keep her alive. Anakin would never join the Empire if he knew that Padmé had died in an Imperial attack, and that would leave Vader in the undesirable position of having to kill his former apprentice to ensure that Palpatine could not use the Jedi against him.

And then … there was Sabé.

Vader tried not to think about her. She was Kenobi's weakness, not his. In the terms of his overall political scheme, she was utterly irrelevant. Lacking the special status afforded to Anakin and Padmé, she was supposed to be nothing to the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet but another misguided idealist bound to a doomed cause. But she was more. In a past life, he had loved her. She had captivated him, body and soul, with her wondrous brown eyes, her soft, loving touch, her strong will, and her kind and gentle nature. During their short time together, she had given herself completely to him, and he to her.

In spite of all the walls he had built around his mind, Vader sometimes found himself wondering what might have been if the Force had not seen fit to set him upon the path that had led to him becoming the Dark Lord of the Sith. He and Sabé would have been able to build a life together, somewhere far away from the corrupt politics of the galaxy. He would have been free of this suit, free to touch her, to laugh with her, to look upon her with his own eyes. Possibly they would have had a family together. He found himself picturing a child, a young boy or girl, with features that were a mix of him and Sabé, blended together to create a wonderful and entirely unique being.

But it was not to be. Sabé had made her choice in loyalty clear when she placed her commitment to the Rebellion over what the two of them had shared. However important she had been to his past, she was not a part of future. He could not allow past affections to get in the way of what needed to be done. No matter what happened, he would not be seduced by the last remaining relic of an impossible dream.

It was only then that he realized just how far he had come. Sabé, Anakin, and Padmé formed the last bond that tied him to his past life. Unconsciously, he had clung to that connection for years, unwilling to cut himself off completely from the light. Now, on verge of what might become the most crucial moment in the history of the Empire, he was letting go. He had reached into the void, the vast darkness in which the last remaining trace of Obi-Wan Kenobi still lived, and for the first time in years he had felt … nothing.

A sacrifice of love was the greatest sacrifice of all.

The process was nearly complete. The droids had attached the plates covering his arms, legs, chest, torso, and back, all without the slightest hitch. Only the mask remained. The droid moved to add it as well, but Vader waved them away and stood up. He would do this himself.

He picked up the mask and turned it over in his hands. It felt light to the touch, a severe contrast to the heavy burden it carried. Vader's startlingly blue eyes took in every detail of its fearsome visage, from the empty black lenses to prison-like grille through which he breathed. Soon, if Nuruodo's predictions held, he would be rid of this mask forever. But deep down, he knew that it would always be a part of him. Long after he looked out at the galaxy through the eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi once more, it would cling to his features like a ghost, like a shadow that could not be moved.

Vader pressed the cold steel to his face, and the warmth of his skin fled into the mask. He felt something in his heart stir, but he dismissed it. Slowly, he took up the remaining piece of his helmet and pulled it onto his head, locking the mask in place.

At once, the deep sound of mechanically-modulated breathing filled the chamber, sucking any remaining warmth out of the air. With a casual wave of his hand, the Sith Lord released the locking mechanism that kept his chamber sealed and stepped out once more into the galaxy, every centimeter the symbol, the icon, the living heart of the Empire once more.

As he glared through the red-tinted lenses of his mask, Vader's eyes shone with the fire of a burning star. The time had come to destroy the Rebellion once and for all.

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**Next Chapter**: _The Alliance members debate furiously whether or nor they should respond to the message sent to them by the Leader. Yet time is ticking for with every second they waste, Darth Vader draws closer, intent on their destruction. When the Dark Lord of the Sith arrives and those Anakin loves most are thrown into the line of fire, the Chosen One must make a choice that will have a profound impact on both his family and the rest of the galaxy._


	55. Sacrifice

Hey everyone!

I apologize for the delay; I promised that I would get the next update posted quickly and I failed to do so. My only explanation is that this chapter wound up being the longest chapter in the entire story. Try not to be intimidated, especially if you are a casual reader. You will never see me write a chapter of this length again. I fully intended to go with shorter chapters from here on out, which I hope will help me get as much of this story done as I can before I head off to college.

I read all your comments and am overwhelmed by the amount of positive feedback I continue to receive. I apologize for the lack of individual replies, as I really want to thank each and every one of you. For now, however, I hope that this (very long) chapter will suffice.

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**Chapter 55**

"You cannot seriously be considering this!"

Bail Organa narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Kothla Tral'fey, who had risen out of his seat to interrupt the former Senator's speech. The conference room fell silent as the Head of the Alliance Council and the angry Bothan faced off over the holoprojector, the bluish light of the tactical display dancing off their faces.

"Forgive my bluntness, Kothla," Bail said evenly, "but I must tell you directly that yes, I am considering it. At this stage in the game we cannot afford to rule out any options."

As expected, his answer did not satisfy the Bothan, who continued to glare defiantly. "If you act on this, you will be making a grave mistake."

Bail raised a curious eyebrow. "And why do you believe that?"

Tral'fey gestured shortly at the tactical display. "Play the message again."

Anakin, who was seated in the front row of the circle halfway between Bail and Kothla, leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes in disgust. He heard Padmé sigh beside him and he could sense that even her legendary patience was wearing thin. This would be the eighth time that they had listened to the message sense the meeting started. He could recite its contents from memory without so much as a conscious thought. For a second, the young Jedi hoped desperately that Bail would not give in to Tral'fey's absurd request, but alas, his hope was quickly shot down.

"As you wish," Bail said coolly, flipping a switch on the console.

A deep, powerful voice filled the confines of the conference room, as if the Leader himself were present. The voice was impressive, echoing in a way that reminded Anakin chillingly of Darth Vader. He held his composure well, though several members of the Council seated adjacent to him were unable to suppress a shiver.

"_Members of the Alliance to Restore the Republic," the voice intoned. "I have chosen this moment to reach out to you because I believe that we stand at a crossroads. Long have I watched your movements and kept tabs on your efforts to resist the Empire. You have made admirable progress, but as you know, the Empire is strong and your resources are limited. You have weakened the Emperor's grasp in the outer reaches of the galaxy, but thus far you have not been able to threaten the heart of his power. _

"_That can all change soon. For months my organization has been scouting the defensive grid that the Imperials have set up around Coruscant. We believe that we have found an opening. Three weeks from today, I will be launching a planet-wide attack with the objective of removing the Emperor from power. My forces have the numbers, the weapons, and the will to overcome the Imperials, but we shall need your aid. _

"_Enclosed in this message are schematics of the defensive parameters set up around Coruscant. If you wish to achieve total victory over the Empire, then gather your strongest battle groups for an assault on the Imperial Fleet orbiting the capital. Keep them occupied while I lead my forces against the Imperial Palace. If we are successful, then the road shall be clear for you to restore freedom to the citizens of this galaxy. _

"_The attack will proceed whether or not you come to aid us, but I would advise you not to delay. With the Death Star at his command, Palpatine will not hesitate to wipe you out. The time for words and subterfuge is past, Councilors. Now is the moment for action."_

The console hissed and then fell silent. Bail nodded to Tral'fey. "Well?"

"This message is obviously a ruse!" the Bothan exclaimed. "The Leader … if indeed that is who it was … was being cryptic to the point of deliberate concealment! He has not told us where or how would be the best way to attack the Imperials, nor did he bother to tell us the size of the fleet we are supposed to attack! This is a ploy to lure our forces to Coruscant so that they can be destroyed!"

"Obviously the Leader is a smart enough military commander that he knows not to reveal his entire plan to us before we commit to the attack," Jan Dodanna interrupted. "What if this message had been intercepted? I'm not saying that we should rush into this, Kothla, but this is the type of opportunity that only comes once in a blue moon. I think that it merits careful consideration."

"Cyrus," Bail called to Councilor Jostain, who was sitting passively next to Tral'fey. "You have examined the message for tampering, have you not?"

Jostain stood up and faced Bail across the tactical display. He was a medium-sized Duros with bluish-green skin and his species' characteristic bulbous head. Along his skull ran several long, white scars, whose origin he had politely declined to reveal. His dark red eyes gave him a sinister and imposing appearance, but like most members of his species he was a staunch advocate of peace over war. Jostain had served in Intelligence since the days of the Old Republic, and it was his consistent presence on the Council that had allowed Padmé on the others not only to stay a step ahead of the Empire, but also to keep assets like Kothla Tral'fey in check.

"I have had my best people working on the message from the moment we received it," Jostain answered in a gravelly voice that sounded to Anakin as if the alien had a knife lodged in his throat. "We have found no reason to believe that it is anything but authentic. It has not been touched by the Empire, and the schematics we were sent have checked out against our most recent Intelligence reports."

"Good enough for me," Garm Bel-Iblis said definitively. "This could be our chance to strike a solid blow against the Empire. We have three weeks to plan, and I suggest that we get on with it."

Tral'fey shot the Corellian a scathing look. "Yes, it's all very well for you to advocate taking action. Your homeworld is not under immediate threat by the Empire. If we pull battle groups from the Outer Rim for an assault on Coruscant, Bothawui will be left undefended."

Bel-Iblis looked as though he would like nothing better to retort angrily, but Bail waved him down. Turning to the Bothan, he shook his head. "Kothla, I can assure you that if we attack Coruscant, the furthest thing from the Emperor's mind will be to move against Bothawui."

"What do the Jedi think about all this?" Dodanna asked suddenly.

The General was looking as Anakin as he spoke, but it was another voice that answered. Seated on Anakin's right, Master Yoda sounded both old and tired, but his voice carried a quiet power that captured everyone's attention.

"A marker of things to come, this message is," the ancient Grandmaster said. "Given us an opportunity to advance our cause, the Force has. Know not, I do, where this course of action will us, but act on it, I feel that we must."

"Spare us your cryptic philosophy," Tral'fey shot coldly at the Jedi Master. "Your mystical insight did not help us to foresee the rise of the Empire, and it certainly has not helped us to resist it. Do you expect us to trust your blind intuition when mountains of well-processed intelligence tell us that this is a trap?"

"Maybe I blinked and missed something, Kothla," Anakin broke in abruptly, "but I have yet to see any of this _well-processed intelligence_. You are basing your argument on speculation, the very same thing that you just bid the rest of us to discard."

He felt Padmé grip his arm and he heard the surprised mutters of the Council. Anakin almost never spoke in these assemblies, given his aversion to the political process, but when he did he was usually both calm and respectful. His unexpected retort hung in the air like an open threat, causing a profound shift in the mood of the commanders and politicians gathered there. Anakin wondered fleetingly whether it had been smart to openly address Kothla with hostility at this stage in the proceedings. If, as he suspected, the Bothan was a traitor working for the Empire, then he was sure to have some dirty tricks up his sleeve.

Tral'fey's violet eyes narrowed as they locked onto the young Jedi. "I was wondering when you would choose to speak up, Jedi Skywalker. You never can seem to restrain yourself from jumping to unfounded conclusions, or pursuing rash actions."

"Kothla," Bail said warningly. "Restrain yourself."

Anakin struggled with the temptation to wave Bail off and let Kothla have free reign. The Bothan had a tendency to get carried away when he was riled; maybe if Anakin could push him far enough he would give something away.

Padmé's grip on Anakin's arm grew so tight that his hand started to go numb. On his other side, Yoda was staring at him intently with sharp green eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. Anakin kept his cold gaze locked upon Tral'fey, refusing the temptation to stretch out with the Force and get a sense of what his old Master was thinking. He had not yet forgiven Yoda for what he had discovered on Dagobah, and he did not know whether he would ever be able to muster up such resolve.

Suddenly, the pressure on Anakin's arm was gone. Padmé had released her grip and stood up. All eyes in the room turned to her as she began to speak.

"A few days ago," she said quietly, her voice laden with passion and meaning, "I spoke to this Council in this very room. I asked you to put aside your differences and work together for the sake of the common good. I know it's not easy to do, but once more, I am going to make that plea. We can't let ourselves be torn apart be jealousy and a failure to listen. What is at stake – the lives and freedom of trillions of beings – is too important."

Her words, strong but not forced, pointed but not accusatory, reached everyone present. The agitated mood that had lingered in the room following the heated exchange moments before faded away like smoke on the wind.

"Councilor Skywalker is right," Giddean Danu said firmly. "Accentuating our divisions only plays into the Empire's hands. We should focus on what's truly important."

"I agree," Chi Eekway added. "We must present a truly united front to the enemy, or our resistance will be futile."

"Well, what better way to do that then proceeding with this attack?" demanded Jan Carson, a rail-thin human with silver streaks lining his mane of jet black hair. "Whatever motivation the Leader has for resisting the Empire, we know that he is at least well-equipped to do so as we are. I say we take advantages of his resources."

"But you've just conceded a crucial point, Jan," said Bana Breemu, an exotic-looking human woman with golden skin and long black hair. "We don't know the Leader's motivations. He could easily be trying to trick us into assisting him in a coup that will place him on the Emperor's throne."

"Come, Bana," Carson said, sounding exasperated. "You don't really believe those rumors that the Empire has been circulating, do you?"

Bana withdrew into her seat, tilting her delicately formed jaw upwards. "I'm saying we should be cautious."

"We can't afford to be too tentative," Dodanna interjected. "We have a clearly defined window of opportunity."

"For what?" Tral'fey demanded. "A suicide mission? Our time and resources are better spent elsewhere. There is simply too much risk!"

Padmé spoke again. It was a testament to how much respect she commanded that everyone in the divided room gave her their complete attention.

"I know that there is a risk," she said firmly. "There is always a risk in war. But what we stand to gain overshadows what we have to lose. We cannot afford to let the Empire get any stronger, and we need allies. I believe that we should trust the Leader and cooperate with him in planning this attack."

Anakin felt a rush of admiration for his wife, one which was shared by many of others present. There was a great deal of nodding and calls of affirmation. Anakin sent Padmé a soothing message with the Force, and her small smile let him know that she had felt it.

"Shall we put it to vote, then?" Bail asked. The rest of the Council nodded but before Bail could call for those in favor, Tral'fey spoke again.

"I refuse to be a part of this. If you proceed with this attack, you will do it without the aid of Bothan Intelligence."

A stunned hush fell across the room. Yoda closed his eyes in disappointment and Anakin had to suppress and urge to stride over to the Bothan and hit him across the face. Tral'fey wore a small smirk, his confident manner showing that he knew just how much he had affected the upcoming vote.

"Kothla," Bail said, real anger creeping into his voice. "That is tantamount to treason."

"I think not," Tral'fey said, still smirking. "The Alliance has no laws in place to compel my cooperation. I have every right to withhold my services."

"Councilor Jostain," Padmé said, turning to the Director of Intelligence "Please tell Kothla why we need the Bothans if we're going to be successful with this attack."

"I'm sorry, Councilor Skywalker," Jostain said calmly. "But he is within his rights. I myself have reservations about risking the lives of my operatives on such a dangerous mission."

"What?" Bel-Iblis exclaimed incredulously. "But you're for this attack!"

"Did I ever say that?" Jostain asked, turning his large head towards the Corellian. "All I can recall asserting was that the message from the Leader was indeed authentic. That does not mean that I believe that he is a credible source, or that we should act on his plan."

Bel-Iblis looked as though he'd been slapped across the face, and he wasn't the only one. Padmé and Bail were both staring at Jostain as if seeing him for the first time.

"Cyrus," Padmé began, "You have to see that …"

"I don't have to see anything, Councilor," Jostain replied. "The greatest progenitor to success in war is patience. We must wait."

"We can't afford to wait!" Bel-Iblis exploded. "The Empire is picking us off one stronghold at a time!"

"If delay too long, pass us by, our moment will," Yoda added. "Hide no longer, we can."

"Forgive us if we do not trust the word of a washed-up mystic who has been lurking on a backwater planet for over five years!" Kothla interjected scathingly.

"Don't waste your time with insults, Kothla," Anakin told the Bothan pointedly. He was sick of the Bothan's games; he wanted to force him into the open now. "It underminds your credibility. If you want to increase your influence, then start by helping the rest of us achieve the Alliance's mission."

"Don't pretend to care about the Alliance's mission," Jostain shot at Anakin. "You have a history, Skywalker. Your only concern throughout this conflict has been to kill Imperial pawns to avenge your dead fellows and to carve out hidey-holes for your next generation of Jedi spawn on god-forsaken planets like Tatooine. You, like all your predecessors, are concerned with nothing but your own agenda."

Something clicked in Anakin's mind. He looked directly into Duros' cold face, then to Kothla, before looking once again at Jostain. It all fit in the way he had foreseen. He had just been reeling in the wrong fish on his hook …

"I never told you where my children were hidden," he said quietly, a dangerous tone edging into his voice. "I never even told you that I had children. My wife and I never trusted you with that secret. So how do you know?"

Jostain's dark gray skin turned pale and his eyes flashed dangerously. "That is irrelevant, Skywalker. You're trying to distract us from the point."

"No, I'm not," Anakin said quietly. "Because over the past few months someone has been leaking information on my children to the Imperial spies. That same person has also been providing the Empire with the locations of the Alliance's hidden bases and concealing news of the attacks from the rest of us. What kind of person has that sort of leverage, Councilor Jostain? What kind of connections with Intelligence would that person have to have? What kind of motive would prompt such a betrayal? Can you tell us, Councilor?"

Jostain was stiffening, his face becoming an ugly mask. "How dare you make such accusations? You Jedi, who abandoned your values and your duty?"

"I haven't made any accusations, Councilor," Anakin said coldly. "But from the looks of your peers, people are beginning to piece together the puzzle."

Jostain looked around and saw that everyone, even Tral'fey and his other associates, was drawing away from him. His mouth opened and closed in shock, and his orange eyes turned red with fury. He turned back to Anakin's unforgiving stare. "You …"

Anakin was ready before Jostain made his move. He sprang forward as the Councilor's right hand plunged into a pocket of his uniform and whipped out a blaster. Screams erupted and those closest to him ducked for cover. Before the alien could fire, however, Anakin ignited his lightsaber and severed Jostain's weapon hand.

Everyone in the room rose to their feet, staring down in shock at the moaning Councilor on the floor and the vengeful Jedi standing over him. Padmé had run forward to meet Anakin the moment Jostain had drawn, and Bail was standing with his own weapon half out, looking stunned. The rest of the Council began to mutter, and some pointed incredulous fingers at Anakin and Jostain. The Jedi ignored them as he began to rummage through the alien's pockets for the damning evidence of betrayal.

"Anakin," Bail said weakly. "What …?"

Anakin withdrew his hand from Jostain's side pocket, his fist curled tightly around a small, spherical device. He opened his hand to show it to the room, and a collective gasp went up.

"Tracking beacon," Anakin announced. "Imperial frequency."

Bail swore and Padmé's hand rose to her mouth. "But that means …"

Before she could finish her sentence, alarms rang out throughout the ship. A frantic voice rang out over the intercom and all eyes turned to the viewport, where a massive triangular vessel had appeared from nowhere.

"Three Imperial Star Destroyers have entered the system! Our communications are jammed, and an interdiction field has been established! They're preparing to fire!"

Anakin looked directly into Padmé's eyes, their minds simultaneously arriving at the same terrifying conclusion.

_It's a trap._

* * *

The bridge of the _Reaper_ was the model of ruthless efficiency. The moment the enormous Star Destroyer dropped out of hyperspace, every one of its officers launched themselves without hesitation into their appointed tasks. The shields were up five seconds after the reversion was complete. In ten seconds, the gravity-well generators were online, trapping their prey in-system. Before the stunned Rebels could so much as catch their breath, the _Reaper_ was at full battle readiness, its dagger-like prow pointed directly at the heart of the enemy ship. Comm officers shouted updates to their superiors, informing them that the _Vengeance_ and the _Chimera_ were on-schedule and would soon settle into their strategic positions. Their job would be to hang back and trap the overwhelmed quarry between them, ensuring that the frigate could not escape while the _Reaper_ led the attack.

As suddenly as it had started, the activity on the bridge ceased. All eyes turned to the dark figure standing in front of the foremost viewport with its arms crossed across its chest. The cold, recycled air of the ship trembled with a repressed tension, a potent fury waiting to be unleashed.

Captain Seti Roswall approached the towering figure. The captain's clipped military demeanor held up admirably well, but even he could not suppress the smallest quiver of fearful excitement. It was a surreal experience to be a part of a fighting force that was so cohesive, so precise, capable of such utter devastation. Throughout the ship, ten thousand soldiers waited breathlessly for the command of one man.

"My Lord, we are in position." When Roswall spoke, he was stunned by how calm his voice sounded. His very blood seemed to be frozen in anticipation.

Darth Vader gazed out through the viewport of his flagship, his deathly stare resting on the white, oblong shape that was the Alliance Assault Frigate _Liberty_. Through the Force, he could sense panic, confusion, and terror. It was the very antithesis of his troops' dispassionate vigil.

The Dark Lord of the Sith spoke, his cold and powerful voice ringing out across the thousand kilometers separating him from his prey to strike an unseen fear into the hearts of every traitor to the Empire.

"Open fire."

* * *

In the conference room of the _Liberty_, chaos reigned.

Anakin sprang up from his crouched position, all thoughts of the cold vindication that had filled him moments after Councilor Jostain's unmasking having fled from his mind. He was buffeted on both sides by a mass of people rushing for the exit, from terrified aides to Council members. The air was filled with a mass of noise as commanders shouted out orders, trampled and pinned beings screamed for help, and the dull blasts of the first turbolaser strikes slammed against the cruiser's shields. Through the Force, Anakin was overwhelmed by the suffocating fear of over a thousand beings, all of them stricken by the sudden appearance of the Imperial Star Destroyer. However, their panic was what threatened to swallow Anakin up. Far across the reaches of space, he could sense a dark presence that he had not encountered for five years, but was every bit as familiar to him as his own. It was a point of constancy in the chaotic, turbulent ocean in which he was immersed, a cold maelstrom of power that pulled at the chains binding his soul.

_Vader. He's come for me._

It was as if a heightened awareness had gripped Anakin, transporting him above the teeming mass that surrounded him. He was standing on the bridge of the Star Destroyer, looking through blood-tinted lenses at the trapped ship before him. A dark eagerness was racing through his veins, gripping his burned and scarred body in a vice that held, but did not bind. Pure power danced just beneath the surface of his skin, waiting to be summoned. A cold smile stole across his lips and his eyes filled with fire as he watched his prey begin to burn …

Then Anakin was back in the command center, breathing heavily as though he had just run a great distance, only to wind back right where he had started. The mass of people were still streaming around him, trying to break free of the room's confines when a strong, clear voice rang out.

"STOP!"

The mob froze and fell silent. All eyes turned to the center of the room. Padmé and Bail had climbed up onto the tactical display to make themselves more visible, but they had not yet uttered a sound. With a jolt, Anakin realized that it was he who had called out, unconsciously using the Force to project his voice so that everyone could hear.

"Running and panicking like this will get you nowhere!" he called out, his tone filled with a definitive conviction that brooked no argument. "The shields will hold long enough for us to evacuate. If you want to live, then I suggest you listen to your leaders!"

Seeming almost abashed, those who had been scrambling for the exit only a moment before grounded themselves and faced the center display. There was still fear present on their faces, but the shock of the Empire's sudden appearance was wearing off. Military discipline and common sense were starting to kick in. Padmé shot her husband a brief, grateful smile, then looked down at her peers.

"We must proceed efficiently," she called out, her strong voice kindling a fire in the hearts of every Rebel present. "All essential military personnel, head to your battle stations now. Hold off that Star Destroyer as long as you can. The rest of you, get to your assigned evac transports!"

"I want any ship with fighting capabilities to be launched in under five minutes," Bail added. "They'll be targeting the transports, and we need to be sure they get away safely. Go!"

The Rebels dashed off through the exits once again, this time in a much more orderly fashion. Twenty seconds later, the only people still left in the chamber were Anakin, Yoda, Padmé, Bail, Garm-Bel Iblis, and Kothla Tral'fey, who had fallen backwards into his seat and was staring out the viewport in shock. Beyond the transparisteel pane, a hail of turbolaser bolts were smashing against the frigate's shields, shaking the _Liberty_ to its very core. The ship was returning fire, but it seemed to be doing far less damage to the enemy ship that it was receiving.

Bel-Iblis had pulled out his comlink and was shouting orders to someone on the bridge. "Kill the sublight drives, the hyperspace reactor, everything but life-support! Shunt all power to the shields! Do it, you idiot! We're not going to outrun them, we're going to have to outlast them!"

"I can't believe it," Bail said faintly after he had climbed down from his perch. "Right here, in the heart of the Council …"

Padmé seemed shocked too, but she was holding herself together. "We're in trouble. If Jostain had a beacon on him, then more Imperials will be here very soon. We don't have much time."

Bel-Iblis looked down at the tactical display. "Our sensors show that they are launching assault ships. They intend to board us."

"Why?" Padmé exclaimed. "Our shields may be holding up for now, but they have superior firepower. They could wipe us out easily!"

Anakin took a deep breath. "It's Vader. He's not just after the Council. He's here for me."

Fear flooded Padmé's features. "He can sense you're here?"

"I'm afraid so," Anakin said grimly. "And I'm not the only one. He'll be able to sense Yoda and …"

He broke off, an icy claw of horror curling mercilessly around his heart. Padmé's beautiful face went white with shock. They had both come to exactly the same conclusion.

"The children …"

Padmé spun around, looking wildly about the room. "Sabé! Where's Sabé?!"

"She went to get them, I'd bet anything on it," Anakin said. "I think she knows."

"Padmé, I can't ask you to stay while your children are in danger," Bail said hesitantly. "But we need your help to coordinate the evacuation, or hundreds of lives will be lost."

Anguish crossed Padmé's face and Anakin was about to snap angrily at Bail that they had more important things to worry about when a calm voice interrupted him. Yoda looked up at the young Jedi and his wife through sharp green eyes.

"Coordinate the evacuation, I will," he said softly. "Attend to your family, you must."

Padmé looked as though she could have kissed him. Anakin felt a surge of gratitude so immense that he completely forgot his anger at the ancient Jedi Master.

Bail nodded in acceptance. "Garm, can you handle command duties?"

"Of course."

"Good. Kothla …"

The white-furred Bothan looked up at the leader of Alliance through vacant eyes. All his will and bluster seemed to have deserted him.

"Kothla, I need you to recover all of the important information from our databases, and then destroy the records. If the Empire gets a hold of them, there won't be one safe place in the galaxy left for us to go."

Tral'fey did not seem to have heard him. His gaze fell back to the viewport, where the Star Destroyer was redoubling its attack and the shields were flickering under the strain. "We're finished," he muttered. "It's over."

Anakin felt a wave of pure disgust for the Bothan. Padmé saw the look cross his face and gestured to him. "Go. Get Luke and Leia to safety. I'll handle this."

Anakin did not need telling twice. "Nothing will happen to them, Padmé. I give you my word."

She gave him a watery smile, holding back tears. There was nothing further that needed to be said; he knew she believed him.

Without further ado, Anakin turned and sprinted out of the command chamber, drawing his lightsaber as he went. His children had never been in a space battle before; they would certainly be terrified. Silently, fighting off his own foreboding, he sent reassurance to Luke and Leia through the Force. _Be brave, you two. I'm coming._

As soon as Anakin had vanished from sight, Padmé rounded on Kothla. Normally, she tried to think about the most diplomatic way to say something before she allowed herself to speak, but she had no time for that now. Her children were in danger, the heart of the Alliance was under attack, and the Bothan's stunned cowardice was only making things worse.

"Kothla," she said firmly, her voice cold with no room for argument. "Look at me."

Obediently, the Bothan turned his eyes to gaze upon her face, but he made no other move.

"You're in shock," Padmé informed him. "We all are. But we can't let that stop us. The Empire is trying to wipe us out, right here, right now, and if we don't fight back, everything that we have worked for will be lost."

Tral'fey blinked and but his lip with his sharp teeth. "But …"

"No," Padmé said adamantly. "No buts, no counters. The time for quarrels and reservations is past; right now what we need is leadership and action. Your people need you, your homeworld needs you, and the Alliance needs you. You are now Acting Chief of Intelligence for the entire Alliance, Kothla. Can we count on you to do your job?"

Tral'fey hesitated, his gaze flickering from Padmé to Bail to Garm ad finally to Master Yoda, all of whom were watching him intently. His gaze lingered on the Jedi Master for the longest, and for a moment Padmé thought for certain that the Bothan's unbelievable capacity for irrational arrogance was going to overwhelm him once more.

"Yes," he said suddenly, his voice so quiet that Padmé could barely hear it. "Yes."

The Bothan stood up to his full height, which was not very impressive, but the confidence in his newfound demeanor more than compensated for it. He looked directly into Padmé's eyes and nodded. "You can count on me, Councilor, to uphold my duty. I shall get to work on securing our Intelligence assets right away."

Padmé's exasperation vanished and a real smile formed on her face. "Thank you, Kothla. I trust you will succeed."

The new Acting Chief of Intelligence nodded respectfully to her, then did the same to the others, even inclining his head in the direction of Master Yoda before disappearing through the door.

Heaving a mental sigh of relief, Padmé turned back to face her colleagues. "How are we doing?"

"The first evac transports are ready for departure," Bail told her. "Our shields are going fast, but they should last long enough for us to get at least the first few waves away."

"Save as many as you can, and make sure that you all get aboard," Padmé said. "I'll see you at the rendezvous point."

"Good luck."

Padmé raced out of the chamber as fast as her legs could carry her. As she reached the exit, she stepped over the severed arm of Cyrus Jostain lying discarded on the floor. She vaguely recalled Security dragging the half-conscious traitor out of the room as it had descended into chaos with the arrival of the Star Destroyer, but although she was stunned and appalled at what had been uncovered, she could not dwell on it now. Her foremost concern was the safety of her children.

She rounded the corner, her hair streaming behind her as she ran, when suddenly her foot slammed into something that nearly caused her to fall. She stopped to regain her balance and looked down to see what had caused her to stumble. Her mouth went dry and her heart seemed to stop.

Two men wearing uniforms designating them as Alliance security were lying in the corridor, the faces frozen in blank masks of death. Both of their throats had been brutally slashed from ear to ear with a sharp metal object, and a pool of blood was slowly forming around them. Leading away from the terrible scene were a pair of bloody bootprints, one more defined than the other, as though the person who had committed the crime were heavier on one side.

Padmé tore off down the corridor after the trail, running even faster than before. In her heart she knew that her beloved children were now in even greater danger than before. She forced herself to run, silently praying to the Force that the next sound that she heard would not be the terrified scream of a young child as a bloody knife was pressed to its throat.

_Anakin_, she pleaded desperately. _Where are you?_

* * *

Anakin moved through the twisting maze of passageways in the ship so fast that his vision began to blur. He could barely see a two meters in front of him, but by drawing upon the Force he was able to keep himself pointed in the right direction. Every time his foot touched the hard metal floor, his heart jumped painfully, warning him of the consequences that awaited Luke and Leia if he was even a minute too late. Casting aside his fear to fuel his resolve, he reached out once again to his children, reassuring them that he would be there soon. He thought he felt them brush his mind in acknowledgement, but the touch was so fleeting that he could not be certain that they had really understood.

As Anakin rounded the last corner leading to his and Padmé's quarters, a titanic explosion shook the entire vessel. The Jedi was thrown into the air and slammed mercilessly into the bulkhead, his head searing with pain as it met the unyielding metal. The lights flickered and then went out, plunging the entire hallway into complete darkness.

Anakin pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and shook his head from side to side, trying to regain focus and rid himself of the throbbing pain. As he regained his footing, the lights in the corridor returned, but much dimmer and with an ominous reddish tint. Disoriented though he was, Anakin knew instantly what had happened.

_The shields are down. In a matter of minutes, stormtroopers will have overrun the entire vessel. I need to get to Luke and Leia now._

Ignoring the intense pain in his skull that nearly caused him to black out, Anakin took off sprinting again, his eyes fixated solely on the door in front of him. Not wasting time with the password, he used the Force to bypass the locking system and wrench the door open. The moment he raced through the door, he stopped, his heart pounding furiously.

The room was empty, all signs pointing to the occupants having left in a great hurry. Anakin saw one of the sashes that Sabé typically wore over her dress lying discarded on the floor. A small part of the tightness in his chest eased; his wife's friend had made it here in time and was likely heading for the nearest evacuation transport at this very moment with the children in tow. But despite this assurance, Anakin found that he was in no way less anxious than before. He would not be able to dispel his worry until he knew that Luke, Leia, and Jadon were off the rapidly imploding cruiser and safely in hyperspace, away from the clutches of the Empire.

Another explosion rocked the ship, and the sound of distant screams reached Anakin's ears. The Imperials were boarding the ship and were no doubt moving to seal off the evac transports. Anakin was about to pull out his comlink and warn Sabé when it occurred to him that she might be fighting for her life while trying to shield the children. He left the comlink on his belt and drew his lightsaber instead. Rather than waste time with unnecessary warnings, it was better that he try to get there as quickly as possible.

The Jedi turned and was about to leave the room when something caught his eye right outside the door. It was a trail of bloody bootprints that he had missed on his approach. They led right up to his door and then turned around and disappeared in the opposite direction. Anakin gripped his lightsaber tighter. Someone had gotten here first.

Then he heard it, the noise that stopped his heart and caused his blood to turn to pure ice: a high, terrified scream that seemed to issue through the wall. Anakin had heard enough desperate cries throughout eight long years of war to know that the scream came from a child. _His_ child.

The blood that had frozen in his veins just a second earlier suddenly burned white hot with the insuppressible rage to hurt, to maim, and to kill. His mouth curled into a terrifying snarl and he tasted blood. Whoever dared to hurt his children was about to be torn limb from limb.

With an incredible burst of adrenaline fueled by hatred and terror, Anakin sprinted from the room and raced towards the sound. He rounded another corner and saw a blast door rapidly closing in front of him. Beyond it, there were figures moving and through the Force he sensed the fear of three helpless beings as they were menaced by an unknown enemy.

The door was closing too rapidly; Anakin knew that he would never reach it in time, and cutting his way through would take far too long. As the metal portal slid shut, Anakin increased his speed and summoned all his immense power in the Force, bracing his body for impact. He drew within ten meters, five meters … one meter. The blast door clanged shut …

Anakin smashed into the door with all of the momentum he had generated concentrated onto the sharpest point of his shoulder. With the might of the Force behind its Chosen One, the reinforced shield door stood no chance. The entire structure was ripped free of its connectors and flew a good two meters down the corridor before falling to the ground with a resounding crash. A cry of amazement went up and Anakin straightened, searching mercilessly for his quarry …

"Not one step further, Jedi!"

Anakin ground to a halt, his chest heaving and blue fire dancing in his eyes. Two meters from his goal, he was forced to stop as he felt his power leave him and his darkest nightmare played itself out before him.

Councilor Jostain was standing in the middle of the corridor, a blood-stained silver knife flashing in his left hand. The mangled stump of his right arm, cauterization still fresh, was wrapped tightly around Luke and Leia's throats, callously cutting off their air. On the floor beside them, Sabé lay quiet and still, the front of her dress torn and a bloody lump rising on her temple. Jadon lay on his mother's stomach, gripping the shredded material with both of his tiny hands and tears pouring down his cheeks as he sobbed desperately.

"Mama, mama, please, wake up!"

Anakin's heart seemed to have departed his body. No … it couldn't be. Sabé couldn't be …

In desperation, he reached out with the Force. For one terrifying second, he could feel nothing at all and Jadon's sobs seemed to fill his ears and his heart. _No …_

Anakin pushed harder and after another agonizing moment, he sensed Sabé's heartbeat. It was weak, it was faint … but it was there. Sabé was hanging on, clinging to life.

Anakin sent her all the strength that he could afford, imploring her to be strong, and then his terrible, merciless gaze locked onto Councilor Jostain' bloody, triumphant face.

"_Let … them … go_."

The traitor smirked, his cold blank eyes meeting Anakin's unrelenting stare. "I think not, Skywalker. You see, if I let them go, you will take your lightsaber and finish the job you started back in the Council meeting. As long as my blade is at the neck of your precious children, you will behave yourself, will you not?"

Anakin raised his weapon menacingly. "You know, Jostain, that the second your blade touches the skin of either of my children, you're dead. I will tear your heart out of your body."

"I may die," Jostain snapped, "but I will make sure that I carry at least one of your children with me to hell. There they can burn in the eternal fire with the rest of your miserable Jedi traitors."

Anakin's eyes flashed dangerously and he took an unconscious step forward. "My children are innocent, you festering slime!"

Jostain brought the blade within a centimeter of Luke's neck. "None of your kind is innocent, Skywalker."

Luke's lip quivered as he tried to tilt his head away from the blade. Sensing her brother's distress, Leia began to cry. Seeing the frightened tears dripping down the beautiful face of his daughter and watching Luke's quiet, brave suffering shattered Anakin's heart. He tried to reach out with the Force and give them the comfort and reassurance that they so desperately desired, but his own soul was so full of unrestrained hatred for the traitor before him that he could not be sure if they could sense it at all.

Forcing himself not to surrender to despair, Anakin looked the cold-hearted alien right in the eye. "What do you want?"

The Duros chuckled. "Coming to our senses, are we, Skywalker? Good. First things first, I want you to drop your weapon now."

Anakin was gripping the handle of his lightsaber so tightly that he wasn't sure for a moment if he would be able to comply. Unwillingly, he pried his fingers free of the comforting handle of his weapon one by one and allowed it to fall to the floor. He hated being so utterly helpless, but there was nothing he could do except keep the traitor talking.

"Why are you doing this, Cyrus?"

Jostain chuckled again. "Don't pretend we're on a first name basis now, Skywalker. You're above that. And don't start looking for a way to argue with me on moral justification … you and your fellows are far more well-versed in treachery than I."

"I don't know what you're talking about. It was the Emperor who chose to devastate your homeworld …"

"The Emperor was only able to ruin Duro because the Jedi's cowardice exposed it first!" Jostain snarled. "During the Clone Wars, the Jedi Council convinced the Senate to abandon Duro because they weren't willing to risk their lives to defend it. Because of the treachery of your kind, Skywalker, Grievous was able to sweep in and wipe out our defenses, then ravage our planet to his heart's content! Had your spines been half as thick as your tongues, Duro would be pristine and peaceful to this day!"

"You're twisting the facts, Jostain," Anakin interjected. "The Jedi fought to defend Duro. It was the Senate who decided to back out. And what do my children have to do with your so-called revenge? Isn't selling the Alliance to the Empire enough for you?"

"Apart from the fact that as spawn of a Jedi, they have inherited their father's guilt?" Jostain asked bitterly. "You brought this upon yourself, Skywalker. If you hadn't crippled me with your rash actions, I wouldn't have needed your children to barter my safe passage with Lord Vader."

Anakin's heart seized painfully. "What?"

"Lord Vader is more concerned with capturing you and finishing off the Council than ensuring my safety," Jostain spat. "His soldiers, knowing me only as a member of the Alliance, would certainly try to kill me. But if they find me with three Jedi offspring in my custody, they will ensure that I do not meet the same fate as my unfortunate colleagues. Why, if I can bring them you as well, Lord Vader may be grateful enough to increase my reward."

Another explosion rocked the ship, and Anakin was certain that he could hear the sound of many armored footsteps racing towards them. If he could not find a way to turn the tables on the treacherous Jostain soon, then all was lost.

Luke and Leia were looking at their father with pleading eyes, and Jadon was still sobbing over Sabé's still form. The palm of Anakin's hand ached for his lightsaber so badly that he could think of nothing else. Jostain's orange eyes seemed to glow with cold malice.

"They're coming," he hissed. "Enjoy these next few seconds, Skywalker. They will be your last as a free man."

Pure rage and desperation filled Anakin. He could stand it no longer. It would not end this way; he would not stand here and watch his children suffer for another second …

It happened in the blink of an eye, so fast that it was hard to tell what came first. Anakin's blue eyes were consumed by a tide of searing red fire, and their gaze ripped right through Jostain's taunting eyes and into his heart. The traitor let out an agonized cry and clutched at his chest with the cauterized stump of his right arm. Sensing their captor's weakening hold, the twins acted. Luke sank his teeth deep into Jostain's knife-wielding hand, and Leia kicked out with her feet, nailing the traitor in his shin. Jostain dropped the knife and stumbled, losing his grip on the pair completely. Luke and Leia tore away from their tormentor and ran to their father, who summoned his lightsaber to his hand and ignited it in one smooth motion. Jostain, his victory slipping away, snarled and pulled out a second blaster from his coat while Anakin raised his own blade, no mercy tainting his heart and he swung for the kill …

A shot rang out, clear and strong, through the corridor. With the Force, Anakin pushed Luke and Leia to the ground to get them out of Jostain's line of fire. He readied himself to deflect another bolt, this one right into the alien's head, but Jostain had dropped the gun. He was staring, open-mouthed, at the smoking hole that had just appeared in his chest, two centimeters above his heart.

Another shot was fired, and Jostain crumpled to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth as a second hole appeared beside the first. Anakin looked over his shoulder and saw, to his astonishment, the beautiful face of his wife, Padmé Amidala Skywalker, her brown eyes burning with a fire that surpassed even his own. Her mouth was set in a cold line, and in her delicate white hand she held a heavy, still-smoking blaster.

Luke and Leia stared up in awe at their mother, but Padmé did not look at them or her husband. She marched straight over to the dying traitor slumped on the floor of the corridor and stood over him like the avenging Angel of Death. Jostain's flickering eyes bulged and his dark gray skin turned white as he tried to force himself up. Padmé placed a small foot on his chest and shoved him back down. She pointed the barrel of her weapon directly at his face.

"That," she said quietly, "is for _daring_ to touch my children."

She pulled the trigger, and a hot beam of light buried itself between Jostain's eyes. The traitor slumped to the floor, dead.

The terrible fire left Padmé's eyes and was replaced with tears. She turned away from the body and looked at her children, who had returned to their feet and were hovering anxiously near Anakin. Padmé dropped her blaster, fell to her knees and opened her arms. The twins rushed into them and Padmé held them close, burying her face in their hair.

"My babies … oh, my babies … I'm so sorry. I should have been here, I shouldn't have waited …"

Anakin walked over and placed a hand on his wife's shaking shoulder. Padmé reached up and squeezed his wrist, turning her beautiful, tear-stained face to Anakin. "Ani ... thank goodness you were here. I thought … for a moment … Luke and Leia, are they all right?"

"They're scared, but they're safe," Anakin told her gently. "Thanks to their mother."

The Jedi gently disengaged himself from his wife and knelt down to examine Sabé, who was beginning to stir. Jadon removed himself from his mother's stomach and waited breathlessly by her side as Anakin lent her strength through the Force. Sabé's eyes flickered open and the first thing that she saw was the relieved face of her son standing over her.

"Mama, are you all right?" Jadon asked, "I was scared."

Sabé pushed herself up to a sitting position and hugged her son tightly, wincing as she fought her throbbing head. "I'm fine, honey. I'm just so glad you're safe …"

She looked around and for the first time she seemed to notice Anakin and Padmé, who had finally disengaged herself from the twins. "When did you two get here?" she asked. "Are the twins all right? Is Jostain …"

"He's dead, Sabé," Anakin told her. "The twins are safe."

Relief flooded Sabé's features. "Thank heavens for that. Padmé, I'm sorry … I should have protected them better …"

"You did as well as you could," Padmé told her gently. "Jostain was desperate; he had nothing to lose …"

A huge explosion cut off the rest of her sentence. Anakin looked down the corridor and saw through the smashed doorway a cloud of dark smoke, in which several figures were moving. Even before the smoke began to dissipate, a stream of blaster bolts began to fly towards them and several figures in white armor ran into view.

Anakin ignited his lightsaber and began to deflect the bolts as Padmé shielded the children and helped Sabé to her feet. "We have to go. Now!"

* * *

The _Liberty_ hung in space like a dead hulk, what few external lights it still possessed glinting feebly through space. Relentless bombardment of the craft's shields had overloaded its defenses and left it open for infiltration. Both its sublight and hyperspace drives had been destroyed, and the few weapons batteries that were still capable of firing made little impact against the Reaper's formidable shields. The few evacuation transports that had managed to get away so far had run straight into the _Vengeance_ and the _Chimer_a, which had reverted from lightspeed to take up flanking positions and proceeded to dispose of the fleeing Rebels without mercy.

Darth Vader watched the mounting ruin of his enemy with a dispassionate eye. The battle seemed to be going well, but he had learned through experience that even the best-laid plans could be torn apart at the last, most crucial second. He would not count this a victory until he could personally assure himself that all their objectives had been accomplished.

"Captain," he said calmly. "Status?"

"The first wave of the assault teams is boarding the target ship now," Captain Roswall, who was standing a respectful distance behind him. "We have received word that at least two Councilors were on evacuation ships destroyed by our forces. The body of a third Councilor, identified as Cyrus Jostain, has just been discovered in a residence wing. We have every reason to expect that the rest will be in custody very soon, or will else meet their end."

Vader nodded, but did not turn around. News of Jostain's death did not faze him; he had been expecting it. Traitors seldom lived to reap the benefits of their work. He continued to stare out across space at the massive shape of the _Liberty_ and the smaller Imperial transport that had already docked with it. Anakin was still on that ship, somewhere. Vader knew that he would not have fled the scene of battle when he had comrades' lives to protect, especially if those he counted his family were among them. Unlike his deceased brethren, Anakin was no coward. He was a man of honor, and he would fight to the end.

"Have the teams reported any contact with Skywalker?"

"Gamma squad has encountered Jedi Skywalker two levels above the main hanger bay. He is accompanied by two women, one of who we believe to be Councilor Amidala, and three children. Gamma squad has suffered multiple casualties and is currently calling for backup."

Vader closed his eyes. He had foreseen this. Stormtroopers were good and loyal soldiers, but they could not be expected to deal with a warrior of Anakin's capabilities on their own. The Chosen One had demonstrated that he could fight his way to freedom, even burdened as he was by the presence of his children. Vader had felt a brief stir in his heart when Roswall had announced that there were three children, not two, but he quickly dismissed the sense as irrelevant …

The Dark Lord spun around and swept towards the turbolift. "Alert my shuttle to prepare for imminent takeoff."

He sensed Roswall's surprise and for a moment he thought the Captain was going to be foolish enough to question him. But Roswall, it seemed, had learned his lesson at Coprighin 5 well. "Your shuttle awaits you, My Lord."

Vader stepped into the turbolift and sealed the door behind him, fingering his lightsaber as he began to descend. Roswall had learned from his mistakes. He could only hope that Anakin would be willing to do the same … or else once again their meeting would end in blood.

* * *

"Watch out!" Sabé screamed.

Anakin launched himself into the air to avoid the concussion grenade that had been soaring through the air towards him. It landed in the spot where his feet had been moments before. Twisting in midair, he seized the grenade with the Force and flung it back at its caster. There was a deafening bang, followed by several agonized cries, and the flow of blaster fire thinned noticeably. Anakin deflected another shot in midair before landing lightly on his feet in his original spot.

Padmé was holding a blaster in each hand, firing nonstop at the remaining three troopers behind them. Two of them fell, their armor smoking, and with a flash of Anakin's lightsaber, the third soon joined them.

"We've got a reprieve!" Padmé called out to her husband.

"It won't last," Anakin said grimly. "They're trying to cut us off from the hanger bay. I can hear a squad moving beneath us."

"Sabé, how are the children?" Padmé asked.

"We're fine!" Leia piped up.

"You guys are awesome!" exclaimed Luke.

Despite the severity of the situation, Anakin found it had to repress a smile. His children were being unbelievably brave, showing no signs of scarring for the horrors that they had just experienced. Jadon as well was showing a maturity beyond his age, perhaps even too much so. He had been begging his mother to allow him to fight alongside Anakin, a plea which Sabé had forcefully rebuffed.

"We're going to have to move quickly," Padmé told them, her voice completely serious. "Can you do that, you three?"

"Is it a race?" Jadon asked. "I'll beat you all!"

"No, it's not a race," Sabé told her son. "We're all going to have to stick together very closely."

"You guys are doing great," Anakin assured them. "Let's go."

They moved off together down the corridor, but they had only gone a few steps when they heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching from around the corner. Anakin signaled the women to wait, and they fell back, blasters drawn as they shielded the children. As the footsteps drew close, Anakin sprung around the corridor, lightsaber raised and ready to strike …

"Master Anakin, don't destroy me!"

Anakin let his blade fall to his side. "Threepio?"

"Oh, thank heavens, Master Anakin!" the droid wailed. "I thought I was scrap for sure! Stormtroopers and explosions everywhere … I wasn't programmed for this!"

Anakin held up a hand, cutting off the droid's lament. He could hear heavier footsteps approaching; too deliberate to be a pack of lost droids. "Come on," Anakin gestured to Padmé and Sabé, who quickly ushered the children forward. "We need to get down to the hanger bay before it's sealed off completely."

They took off down the corridor with Threepio shuffling in their wake. "Master Anakin, wait for me!"

With a few more twists and turns, the group found itself at the end of the hall leading to the turbolifts. There was no sign of any Imperials. Sensing their chance, Anakin beckoned for those following him to make a break for the shafts ahead. They had only gotten halfway there, however, when Anakin's danger sense screamed a warning and he was forced to swing around to deflect a blaster bolt with his lightsaber. Stormtroopers had appeared in the intersection behind them.

"Padmé, Sabé!" Anakin yelled. "Get Luke, Leia, and Jadon inside those lifts now!"

The Jedi Knight planted himself in the middle of the corridor, sealing it off in a blaze of dazzling light. Any stormtrooper who wanted to reach Padmé and the children was going to have to go through the Chosen One, and that task was to prove impossible. The first stormtroopers who tried to test his defenses collapsed to the floor, their arms, legs, or heads dispassionately severed. The next four were thrown back by an invisible Force wave that sent them flying into their surviving comrades and scattered them. Despite the telling losses, however, more stormtroopers arrived to fill the void. Seeming to realize that trying to rush the powerful Jedi was suicide, they settled back and began firing coordinated blasts, seeking to overwhelm his defenses and leave him exposed.

Anakin held them off with the experience of thirteen years' hard earned skill, but despite his efforts he could feel himself beginning to tire. These stormtroopers were working together with a brutal efficiency that surpassed even their usual robotic nature. As Anakin focused his gaze upon their cold, white masks, something caught his eye: a distinctive blue-colored patch on the shoulder of each soldier, denoting his membership in the elite legion comprising the personal forces of Lord Darth Vader.

_The 501st_, Anakin realized, a familiar coldness stealing upon his heart. _That can only mean one thing: Vader is on this ship, right now._

"Anakin!" Padmé cried out. The Jedi chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw that his wife, her friend, the three children and Threepio had gotten the lift open and were all clustered inside waiting for him. Anakin began to retreat towards them, but he could only move so fast without compromising the integrity of his defenses, a weakness that he knew the soldiers of the 501st legion would be only too quick to exploit.

"Dad, come on!" he heard Luke and Leia shout together, fear stealing into their voices for the first time. "Come on!"

Padmé's face was pale and she was biting her lip furiously, helplessly watching her husband's agonizingly slow retreat. Unable to stand it any longer, she sprang out of the lift car and took aim with both of her blasters, firing one shot after another at the advancing troops.

_NO!_ Anakin thought desperately. _Get back, Padmé, get back!_

Padmé continued to fire at the stormtroopers with her characteristic precision. Four of the elite soldiers fell, riddled with her bolts. Then, without any warning from the Force, two blaster bolts slipped past Anakin's guard and struck her, one in her right shoulder, and the other on the left side of her abdomen. Padmé cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor.

"PADMÉ!"

Anakin did not think about it. The rage that welled up inside of him as Padmé fell to the floor overcame him so fast that he had no chance to master himself. The Chosen took his right hand off of his lightsaber and swung it up to aim at the stormtroopers. A stream of Force-generated lightning erupted just beyond his fingers and flew towards the soldiers, consuming them all in a blazing inferno. Several troopers let out agonized screams as the heated rage of the Dark Side burned their skin and tore away their flesh before their voices were ruthlessly silenced. One by one, their mangled bodies collapsed to the floor.

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and ran to his wife's side. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly, but her heart was still beating. Anakin dragged her into the open lift car and sealed the door behind them. Immediately, the lift began to descend.

"Padmé," Anakin whispered, holding his wife's hand tightly. "Padmé, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. Please be all right …"

Padmé didn't speak, but Anakin felt her squeeze his hand gently, letting him know that she had heard. The Jedi placed his hand over his wife's wounded oblique, sending her strength and starting to induce healing through the Force. He felt Padmé shudder in his arms, and when he drew his hand away his palm was covered in blood.

His Angel's blood. Padmé was lying here, bleeding, in his arms …

Anakin looked up into the faces of his children and saw that their vast bravery had vanished. They looked pale and frightened as they watched their mother struggle to breathe and their father, who seconds earlier had saved them all by unleashing a terrible power, look utterly lost.

_This is all my fault_, Anakin realized. _It's me they're here for; it's me that Vader wants. If it wasn't for me, Luke and Leia wouldn't be suffering through what no child should have to endure. If it wasn't for me, Padmé wouldn't be mortally injured …_

"Sabé," Anakin somehow found his voice, forcing himself not to look at the twins. "Get Bail on the line."

Sabé, her face as white as a sheet, obediently drew out her comlink and found the right channel. The moment the connection was established, Anakin took the device and spoke into it. "Bail?"

"Anakin!" Bail exclaimed. "What's going on? You haven't gotten to your transport yet? All of us are aboard the _Tantive IV_ ready to take off!"

"We ran into trouble, Bail," Anakin said shortly. "Padmé's been badly injured, she needs medical attention. I'm sending her to you with Sabé, Luke, Leia, Jadon, and Threepio. Get them onto your ship and make a run for it. If you head for the gap in between the far two Star Destroyers, you should be able to stay out of their range long enough to make the jump to lightspeed."

"Wait a minute, you're not coming?" Bail asked, flabbergasted. "Anakin, that's insane! What are you th …

"It's not insane, it's our only chance," Anakin cut him off definitively. "It's me that they want. If I come with you you'll have a hundred stormtroopers on you before you can close the ramp. I'll draw them off so that you can make a clean getaway, then I'll head for my starfighter in Hanger 4. I've made modifications; I can outrun them …"

As he spoke, the elevator around him suddenly vanished. He felt like he was falling, deep, deep into a yawning black void …

_He was striding down the ramp of a shuttle, a dark man in a suit of fearsome black armor leading a squadron of troops across a hanger. The last vestiges of Rebel resistance were trying to defend their posts, but they scattered when they saw his soulless mask staring towards them. One poor fool tried to raise his blaster, only to have a searing red blade rip across his chest. _

_He turned away from the dying man, leaving his troops far in his wake. This was a job he could only undertake alone. He strode off quickly in the direction the presence he sought, which shone to him in the Force like a beacon. Skywalker was confused, angry, wracked by guilt and turmoil. Good. He would be distracted, easier to take …_

With a jolt, Anakin was back in his own body and mind. He knew what he had seen and he could sense Vader moving towards him, a dark void in the Force, full of eagerness and cold determination. He didn't have long.

Bail was trying to say something, but Anakin overran him.

"Don't argue with me on this, Bail. Just get my wife and children out of here safely. I'll be fine, I can handle myself."

The absolute finality in Anakin's tone seemed to reach the former Senator. "We'll hold the last transport for them, Anakin. Get them here as soon as you can."

The lift ground to a halt and the door slid open. Anakin shut off the comlink and tossed it back to Sabé, who stared at her best friend's husband in pure shock. "Anakin, forget it. You can't expect to outrun Vader. Just come with us …"

"Sabé, no," Anakin said. "Vader is after me and me alone. I get on that ship with you, it'll be dead in space before it's gone five hundred clicks. I won't risk any of your lives by being selfish. This is the only way I can ensure all of your safety."

"Anakin, you can't! What will Padmé …"

"Sabé," Anakin said adamantly. "My decision is final. The Imperials are on their way; you need to go before they get here."

"Imperials?" Threepio moaned. "Oh, we're doomed!"

Anakin rounded on the golden droid and shoved one of Padmé's blasters into his hands. Threepio looked like he was about to tumble over. "No, Master Anakin! I'm not programmed …"

"I'm counting on you, Threepio," Anakin told him firmly. "Aim and fire."

"But Master …"

Anakin dropped to his knees and looked directly at the three children. Three pairs of eyes, two blue and one deep brown, looked back at him. Anakin pulled the twins and Jadon into a tight, brief hug and then stood up.

"You're so brave, all of you. Luke and Leia, look after your mother."

"Dad, don't go!"

"Please, Father, please!"

"Uncle Ani, no …"

Anakin turned, and with a final glance over his shoulder at Padmé, he ducked out of the turbolift. He looked quickly to his right, down the passageway leading to the hanger where Bail waited, then to the left, along which rapid footsteps were echoing. Stormtroopers, approaching fast …

Anakin faced the sound of the approaching footsteps and began to run.

His long, loping strides carried him down the passageway at a great pace. In no time at all, he found himself face to face with another squadron of stormtroopers. To their credit, the soldiers got into position well, but it did them no good. Anakin ignited his lightsaber and charged right through them. Two stormtroopers were impaled on his blade before they could even draw their weapons. Another two fell to quick slashes to the neck as Anakin passed by. As the final line braced for impact, Anakin threw his saber in a graceful arc, moving down the final three soldiers standing in his way. He caught his weapon effortlessly on the run and sprinted through, leaving the remains of the shell-shock regiment shouted disoriented orders into their comlinks.

"It's him, it's Skywalker! Grey squad, head him off!"

Anakin paid no attention, but reached out with the Force to sense the position of his adversaries. There were many of them, but so far none of them had managed to get between him and the hanger. He was thirty meters away when his comlink buzzed and Bail's voice came over the channel.

"Last transport is away. All passengers safely aboard. Good luck, Anakin."

Anakin did not acknowledge the transmission, but Bail would not expect him to. Instead, the Jedi reached out to his children, assuring them that all was well and that he would be off the ship soon. He could sense relief through the Force, and he knew that they had understood.

He covered the remaining distance and turned into Hanger 4, sealing the door behind him to keep out the stormtroopers behind him. The vast chamber was almost completely empty, with discarded fuel lines and cargo crates the only signs of a hurried departure. His starfighter was waiting exactly as he had left it, with Artoo still wired in the interface socket. The little droid let out a relieved whistle at the sight of him and began bringing the ship's systems online. The craft was fueled and ready for takeoff; there was no reason to delay further.

Anakin placed his hands on the ladder and was just starting his ascent when a familiar noise from only a few centimeters behind him caused him to freeze: the characteristic _snap-hiss_ of an igniting lightsaber.

"Step away from the ship, Anakin."

Anakin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Obediently, he stepped off the ladder and backed away from his vessel, keeping his hands visible. Once he was in the clear, he turned around and opened his eyes to behold the cold, unforgiving visage of Darth Vader.

The Sith Lord's red blade was out and raised, but Vader did not seem to be on the verge of attacking. He merely slid over to the side, stepping between Anakin and the starfighter, his only route of escape. During the short time it took for Anakin to gather his scattered thoughts, the trademark sound of his adversary's rasping breathing filled the room and the icy, familiar presence of the Dark Lord saturated the Force around him as though he had been plunged headfirst into a freezing lake.

Anakin gathered himself and forced his voice to remain steady. "Lord Vader."

"Over five years have passed since we last held a direct conversation," the Dark Lord said casually. "It has been far too long, Anakin."

The Jedi forced down a hot tide of guilt. He wasn't sure whether to agree or disagree. Five years ago, they had been dueling amidst the lava floes of Mustafar, and he had been forced to watch as the man he had once considered his brother fell into the abyss and was consumed by the flames. Time had changed many things since that fateful day, but Anakin was sure that the memories of agony and ruin had not faded from Vader's mind.

"It has been a long time," he said finally. "Many things have changed."

"I would argue many things have changed for the better," Vader said. "I have to admit, Anakin, I am surprised that are here, and not on the fleeing Rebel transport with your wife and children. Given our recent history, I would have expected you to avoid me for as long as you could."

Anakin recognized the thinly veiled barb, but also a hint of genuine curiosity. It was a surprise; he had been expecting nothing but resentment and hatred. For all his unbreakable resolve, Darth Vader seemed willing to reason with the man who had nearly destroyed him. It was more than Anakin could have dared to hope for.

"You were after me," he said in response, keeping his eyes on the still-ignited blade half a meter from his chest. "My presence would only have endangered my family further."

"I see," Vader said, his cold voice not giving away anything that lurked in the depths of his mind. "I should have guessed. Jedi have a weakness for self-sacrifice. Nevertheless, your noble act will come to nothing if something does not change soon. At this very moment, my forces are overtaking the transport housing your fleeing Rebel colleagues. They will be in our hands momentarily."

Faster than the Dark Lord could react, Anakin had snatched his lightsaber from his belt and pointed its shimmering blue blade directly at Vader's heart. "Let them go. You have me. You don't need them."

"You are not in the position to be making demands, Anakin," Vader said lightly. "I have no desire to fight you. Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."

Anakin reached out with the Force and sensed those he loved on board the fleeing _Tantive IV_. All around the vessel, turbolaser blasts from two pursuing Star Destroyers rained down, rocking the ship and wearing down its reinforced shields. Luke and Leia were comforting Padmé, who was receiving medical treatment for her wounds. Sabé was trying to calm Jadon, who was doing his best not to show fear. All of them were so full of life and love, yet so vulnerable, surrounded by fear and death … because of him. It was because of him that his children were living in fear. It was because of him that Sabé and Jadon were suffering. It was because of him that Padmé hung on the edge of death.

He remembered the Dark Side power he had unleashed willingly on so many different occasions. He remembered Bane's words to him in the cave on Dagobah, that his destiny to fulfill the prophecy of the Sith'ari was inevitable and the longer he resisted it, the more people would suffer on his account. The Shadow of Vader was a curse which he could never escape.

A wave of loathing at his selfishness rose up inside of him. His family did not deserve this. They did not deserve to suffer on his account. He was the reason that they were hunted, and he was the only one who could stop it.

He was by no means certain of the course of action that he was about to undertake. The rational side of his mind was silently screaming at him, foretelling the deadly consequences that awaited him if he failed to play his cards exactly right. He would not only be sacrificing control over his own destiny, he would be placing those he loved in mortal danger.

It was a risk that he knew that he had to take.

Vader stepped towards him. "Drop your weapon, Anakin. I need you alive. If you come quietly, then your family will be shown leniency."

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber. He kept his eyes on Vader as he slowly began to kneel towards the ground. Vader's posture relaxed, and he lowered his blade …

Quicker than lightning, Anakin's hand snapped back up. Vader raised his lightsaber, clearly expecting an attack, but there was none coming. Anakin stood tall and calm facing the Dark Lord, the open emitter of his lightsaber pressed tightly against his own heart.

For the first time, pure shock emanated from the Sith. "Anakin, what …?"

"You said you needed me alive," Anakin said quietly. "Well, now I'm in the position to be making demands. You make one wrong move, and I'll send this blade right through my heart."

Disbelief overcame the Dark Lord's shock. "Don't be a fool, Anakin. There are limits to nobility …"

"I'm not being noble," Anakin said firmly. "I'm doing what's necessary to protect the people I love. If this is the only way that I can get you to listen to me, then I'm willing to die for it."

Vader's arm hung loosely at his side, his blade pointing at the floor. He seemed to be at a loss for how to proceed. His dark stare seared Anakin's face, searching for an answer that was not there. Finally, he spoke. "What do you want, Anakin?"

Anakin calmed his rapidly pounding heart with the Force. He needed to maintain control if there was to be any hope. If he slipped up now, all would be lost.

"I want to propose a truce."

There was a brief silence, during which the only sound was Vader's harsh breathing. Then …

"What kind of truce?" the Dark Lord asked. "A truce between the Rebellion and the Empire? Between the Jedi and the Sith? Or between the two of us?"

Anakin opened his eyes. "Between us."

There was another brief pause, lasting the length of a heartbeat. Then Vader spoke.

"I'm listening, Anakin. What are your terms?"

Anakin took another deep breath, which did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his chest. He struggled for a moment to come up with the right words before he could no longer contain himself. They burst out of him like water through a ruptured dam.

"Let my family go. Padmé, Luke, Leia … I want you to call off your forces and allow them to escape with their lives. Cancel the bounties on their heads. Recall any spies that are tracking their movements. Destroy any and all information you have on their location or existence. When this conflict is over … however it ends … let them disappear and find refuge on some remote world where they can live out their lives in peace, free from the shadow of the Dark Side."

He half-expected Vader to taunt him. Certainly no one had ever dared to speak to Darth Vader in such a manner, demanding something from him so forcefully. Yet Vader did not respond with scorn. In contrast, he sounded thoughtful, though wary.

"Those are some heavy demands, Anakin," he said carefully. "I will have you know that is the Emperor, not I, who has been so determined to track down your family for leverage against you. What you ask for is possible, but it comes with a high price. What do you offer in return?"

Anakin closed his eyes and found himself in the Force. This was it, the moment of truth. It was now or never. Whatever happened beyond this point, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could never go back.

"You let them go," he said finally, "and I'll stay."

Another silence fell, the longest one yet. Time stood still, and Vader's presence seemed to have frozen in the Force as he processed the unexpected words. Anakin was acutely aware of his own beating heart, now remarkably steady, and pressed onward before his conviction to do what was necessary weakened.

"I'll turn myself in. I'll surrender. I'll lay down my weapon and come quietly. Once I'm in your custody, you can do whatever you want – interrogate me, torture me … kill me. All that matters is that you give me your word that my family will be safe, and that they never find out what I have done."

Still, Vader said nothing. Anakin remained still, his eyes closed, his breathing calm. There was nothing else that he could say. He had laid himself open, finally set aside the walls that he had built around his mind to shield himself from guilt, doubt, and fear. He felt exposed and vulnerable, only too conscious of the cold metal of his lightsaber against his chest and the fact that the next words that the Dark Lord spoke could condemn him. Yet he had finally come to understand that this was the only way, that if he did not take action now his family would be torn apart. He was ready to die to give them peace.

"So you have accepted the truth, at last?" Vader asked after what seemed like an eternity. "You have come to understand that there cannot be freedom without sacrifice?"

A memory rose to the surface of Anakin's mind: an unsuited Vader shouting similar words at him from across a river of lava five years ago. Now, the fires of Mustafar long gone, Anakin at last understood what his former master had meant.

"You were right, Vader," he said bitterly, "True lessons can only be learned through pain."

Another silence fell. Then, after five unbearable seconds of tension, Vader drew out his comlink and spoke into it.

"Control, this is Lord Vader. Break off pursuit of the Rebels. This operation is complete."

Anakin's breathing slowed. In his mind's eye, he saw the two pursuing Star Destroyers and all of their accompanying fighters cease fire and allow the battered ship carrying his wife and children to soar away. He sensed a wave of confusion mixed with relief from all those aboard, but it did not last long. Free at last of the interdiction field, the Tantive IV shot forward and vanished into hyperspace.

Anakin returned to the hanger. Vader had restored the comlink to his belt and deactivated his lightsaber. Before the Jedi could say anything, Vader spoke again.

"I believe that at long last, you have come to understand, Anakin," he said, sounding more human than Anakin had ever heard before. "And for that reason, I accept your truce. I give you my word that within twenty-four standard hours all bounties on your wife will be withdrawn, all of the Emperor's spies will be decommissioned, and all relevant information in our databanks concerning the whereabouts of your children will be destroyed. As long as Padmé does not continue to seek to destabilize the Empire, she and your children will be allowed to live out their lives in peace."

Anakin reached out with the Force, searching the Dark Lord for any sign of deception, any hint that he might be planning to betray his promise. He found none, but he could tell that Vader sensed him. In seeming response to the probing, Vader spoke again.

"I value my word, Anakin, and I do not give it easily. I will hold myself to it."

Anakin knew of the Vader's rigid honor code. While it seemed insanity to him that he was taking the word of a Sith Lord, there was sincerity in Vader's assurance that seemed genuine. It was an echo of Obi-Wan, the man he would have trusted with his life.

"Thank you, Vader," he said quietly. "And as you hold yourself to your word, I will hold myself to mine."

The chink in Vader's armor closed. When he spoke again, he was cold and business-like once more.

"Then you will make the first move."

Slowly, Anakin moved the emitter of his lightsaber away from his chest. As he did so, the specter of imminent death lifted, but another shadow fell upon him, one which had been following him like a lifetime. It descended upon him like a mantle, weighing heavily upon his soul, but he accepted it silently. Deep down in his heart, he had always known that it would end this way.

He extended his lightsaber to Vader, who took it calmly and clipped it onto his belt. Anakin turned away, ignoring Artoo's increasingly frantic whistles. Vader stepped up and removed a pair of binders from his belt. Anakin did not resist as the Dark Lord slid them over his wrists and sealed them with a solid _click_.

"Forgive me, Anakin," Vader said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It is a necessary precaution."

Anakin looked up and his piercing blue eyes met the empty black lenses of Vader's mask, the mask which the Force had long ago ordained should have been his. "I won't resist," he said, his voice betraying not the slightest hint of fear. "I am done running."

"Good." Vader gave his former apprentice a small push with the Force, prompting him to start walking. "Your destiny has long been waiting for you."

* * *

Long, long, long chapter, I know. All of you who made it this far, congratulations. Everyone who dropped out, I understand completely.

**Next Chapter**: _Anakin, now in Vader's custody, reaches out to those he loves to say goodbye, certain that only death and darkness lies ahead of him. Vader, however, has other plans, one involving a new vision for the Empire ..._


	56. A New Destiny

Hey everyone! I was really glad that I was able to finish this chapter quickly, as you guys deserve more frequent updates for being so dedicated. I'm also glad to see that the monstrous size of the last chapter didn't scare off too many of you. This chapter is also long, but it's much more reasonable to expect that you could get through it in one sitting. It also flows better, in my opinion, with more time for chracter development.

I'll really try to maintain this posting rate, but given my history with updates, I probably shouldn't make any promises. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter 56**

"I still can't believe that we got out of that …"

Padmé Amidala Skywalker slowly returned to consciousness, her befuddled mind and senses returning to her as though she were being raised out of a deep, dark well. She could not fully perceive what was happening; her thoughts were scattered and she could only hear snatches of the conversation taking place around her. She could feel cool metal pressing against her skin through her thin shirt, and deduced that she must be lying on her back on some sort of hard surface. How she had gotten there and what she had been doing prior to falling unconscious, however, eluded her. The memories that she tried to summon slipped like fog through her grasp.

In an effort to learn more about her situation, her eyelids fluttered open, and immediately a confusing jumble of light and dark shapes filled her vision. She blinked several times, and slowly the shapes began to come into sharper focus. She still could not distinguish faces, but she could tell that three people were leaning over her, and judging from what she could hear of their voices, two of them were men and the other one was a woman. All of them seemed to be unaware that she was now awake. Padmé decided to try and get their attention, but when she tried to speak, her voice eluded her. Frustrated, she tried to move, and found that her limbs were slow to respond. Her available options exhausted, the young firebrand decided to stay still and listen to what was being said.

"… I mean, they were right on our tail! Two Star Destroyers and Force knows how many TIE Fighters, all of them pounding away at our shields like there was no tomorrow. I thought that we were seconds away from being blown to atoms, but without warning, all of them suddenly broke off pursuit! I tell you, usually I'm a big believer in luck, but that was just too much. Something, or someone, was looking out for us there …"

"Easy, Garm," another voice said. It sounded familiar to Padmé, and there was something reassuring in its calm tone. "I can't explain how we escaped, but I am deeply grateful that we did. If we had died or been captured, the Alliance would have been completely lost."

"What do you mean?" asked the third voice, the woman's. "You haven't heard anything from any of the other transports?"

"I'm afraid not," the man said, a sad bitterness now filling his voice. "It's been hours since we arrived at the rendezvous point, and I haven't received any signals. I fear that all of the other evacuation transports were either captured or destroyed."

"What?" the woman exclaimed, aghast. "But that means the rest of the Council … Giddean, Bana, Dodanna …"

"Dead," the man said grimly. "Dead or prisoners of the Empire."

"There has to be some hope," the woman said, her voice laden with emotion. "One of the other transports might have held out long enough to make the jump to lightspeed. If we got away …"

"Sabé, we have to be realistic," the man called Garm said heavily. "The Imperials weren't looking to take prisoners; they were shooting to kill. This was a tactical strike designed to wipe out the heart of Alliance leadership, made possible by that damned traitor, Jostain …"

"Not the time to mourn the dead, this is," said another voice, this one coming from out of Padmé's line of sight. "Concentrate on aiding the living, we must."

"Speaking of that," the unnamed man said quietly, "Sabé, has there been any word from Anakin?"

Anakin … that name stirred something in Padmé. A gentle warmth spread from her heart to the tips of her fingers and toes, restoring the strength that previously she had been unable to find. Anakin, her husband. Anakin, the father of her children …

"No," the woman answered, her strong voice shaking slightly. "He's just … vanished. I think something's happened …"

Vanished? That was impossible. Anakin had to be here. He was always there. He was always by her side, ready to soothe away her worries with a soft kiss and his strong, comforting presence whenever she felt alone or vulnerable. There had to be some mistake. Determined to dispel these people of their misguided notion, Padmé worked even harder to find her voice. She found the words and began to gather the strength she needed to sit up.

"Should we tell her?" the man asked quietly.

"I don't know," the woman said, deep concern flooding her voice. "She's already suffered a serious physical injury …"

"Tell me what?" Padmé asked, raising her head and shoulders off the table.

Her vision came into sharper focus and at last she was able to recognize those who loomed over her: her colleagues Garm Bel-Iblis and Bail Organa, and her loyal friend Sabé Naberrie. All of them appeared surprised at her return to consciousness, but their surprised expressions quickly turned into worried looks. Sabé reached out and placed a gentle hand on Padme's left shoulder. "Padmé, you shouldn't exert yourself just yet."

Padmé ignored her and pushed herself into a sitting position. The moment she did so, she winced. Sharp jolts of pain had emanated from her right shoulder and the left side of her abdomen. Instinctively she moved her hand to her left oblique and found that her skin was covered by a smooth material; a bandage of some kind. It seemed that she had been wounded, but how and when it had happened eluded her.

She cast her gaze about what appeared to be a medical examination room, looking for some sign of Anakin. Her heartbeat quickened when she failed to notice any. The only other person in the room was Master Yoda, who was standing by the door leaning heavily on his cane. Anakin was nowhere to be seen.

Sabé was now gently trying to push Padmé back onto the medical table. "Padmé, the doctor said you need to lie down …"

"I'm fine, Sabé," Padmé said shortly. "What were you going to tell me about Anakin?"

"We'll tell you later, Padmé," Bail said gently. "You need your rest."

"Listen to me," Padmé snapped, her voice uncharacteristically cold. "If any of you try to tell me that I need to rest again, you will find out just how wrong you actually are. Tell me what's going on, now! Where are we? How was I wounded? And why isn't Anakin here? Where is he?"

Sabé looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and apprehension. "You really … don't remember anything?"

"No," Padmé said firmly. "That's why I need you to tell me."

"Padmé, I really think we should wait. This will come as a big shock …"

Padme's patience broke. Her heart was now pounding so hard and fast that it felt like it was about to burst out of her ribcage. She couldn't take this anymore; she had to know.

"_What's going on?_"

Bail sighed heavily and nodded to Sabé, sensing that Padmé would brook no argument. Sabé took a deep breath and Padmé steeled herself, sensing that what she was about to hear would rekindle her mind to the realization of some dark truth.

"Anakin is gone. He's just … vanished. We don't know where he is. We don't even know if he's alive or dead."

Padme's heart froze. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. She felt as though she was falling, falling into a vast, dark abyss and the light that she loved and needed was fleeing from her soul forever …

"No," she forced out, her normally smooth voice sounding harsh and strangled. "No, you're wrong. That's not possible."

"I'm sorry, Padmé," Bail said gently. "It's true."

Padmé looked desperately from one face to the next, hoping that someone would wake her out of her growing nightmare. None of them did. Her mind going numb as the horror of what she had just heard gripped her thoughts, she forced one word through her tight and mangled throat

"How …?"

"The Empire ambushed our ship," Sabé began. "They boarded us and sent stormtroopers to hunt us down. You, Anakin, and I were trying to get Luke, Leia, and Jadon to safety."

Another fearful question rose to Padme's lips, but Bail provided the answer before she could speak. "Luke and Leia are fine. They're in the next room, asleep. They need it, after …"

His voice trailed off.

"We were almost to the hanger when we were ambushed by stormtroopers," Sabé continued. "The were members of the 501st, Vader's personal legion. Anakin took a stand against them in the corridor to hold them off, but he couldn't retreat. You ran out to aid him."

Images were returning to Padme's mind, flashes of a raging battle taking places in the corridors of a ship. Anakin was there, his blue blade flashing as he held off waves of unseen enemies. Padmé remembered herself running forward to stand beside her husband as he fought, but beyond that all was blackness.

"You were shot, Padmé," Sabé said quietly. "Once in shoulder and once in the side. You fell down, unconscious. Anakin, seeing what had happened, dispatched the remaining soliders and then dragged you into the lift.

"You were badly injured; we could tell that you were losing a lot of blood. More stormtroopers were coming to head us off; with you wounded and the three children to look out for, we knew that we wouldn't be able to make it to the hanger."

"That's when Anakin called me," Bail broke in. "He knew that the stormtroopers were after him and him alone. He said that his presence was endangering you all. He told me that he was sending you, Sabé, and the children my way, and that once you were all aboard to leave … without him."

"We tried to stop him, Padmé," Sabé said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. "He wouldn't listen to us. He said that he would draw Vader away so that we could escape and that he would meet up with us later. Before we could do anything … he was gone."

"So you left him there?" Padmé exclaimed, her voice now bordering on hysterical. "Sabé, how _could_ you?"

"She had no choice, Padmé," Bail said softly. "Anakin sacrificed himself so that you and your children could escape. It would have been beyond selfish to disrespect his final wish."

Padmé felt hot rage surge through her body. She wanted to lash out at Bail, to strike him for daring to insult her husband like that, to punish him and Sabé for leaving Anakin behind to die. She wanted to reach out across time and space and drag Anakin off the imploding battle cruiser. She wanted to scream at him for being so damned selfless as to put her life above his own. The irrational anger quickly consumed her and Padmé felt no desire to stop it. She knew that the only alternative was to sink beneath the freezing waves of an ocean of despair and allow herself to drown because she could not stand the possibility that Anakin had surrendered to death and left her here, guilt-stricken, frightened, and completely alone.

"We aren't giving up hope," Bel-Iblis told her. "We've been monitoring the news channels for any reports of Anakin being captured or killed. Given his notoriety throughout the Empire, we feel certain that if something had happened, it would have been on the HoloNet within minutes. So far, there has been nothing. Maybe no news is good news."

_Of one kind_, Padmé thought to herself, _but not of the other_. Even there was not concrete proof that Anakin had been captured, she knew that overall that meant little. In war, people often disappeared without a trace. She could not help but think that if he were in any way able to reach out to her, Anakin would have found a way. He never would have left her to wring her heart out in worry and fear … unless he had truly been taken where she could not follow.

Sabé hovered right beside her, her hand gently massaging Padmé's shoulder as she tried to take away some small part of Padmé's pain. "Padmé," she said tenderly, "I'm sure Anakin is all right. If there's one man who's capable of dealing with the Empire, it's him."  
Sabé's attempt a comfort was well-intentioned, but it failed to alleviate the emptiness in her friend's soul. With a heart-wrenching jolt, Padmé recalled that five years ago, the two of them had found themselves in exactly the same situation, only their roles had been reversed. Padmé had been trying to console a grief-stricken Sabé as she dealt with the pain of living in a world without Obi-Wan. It had broken her heart to watch her amazingly strong-willed friend descend into the darkest depths of despair. She had tried to help by furthering the illusion of hope, that Obi-Wan had would eventually find his way back.

The reality had been even more terrible than the illusion. When Obi-Wan had finally returned, he was no longer Obi-Wan. The kind, strong, and good-hearted man that Sabé had loved had vanished, twisted by darkness into a cruel, cold-hearted monster.

Now her beloved husband had left himself at the mercy of the most dangerous man in the galaxy, a man who was willing to sacrifice anyone in the name of his Empire. Sabé was right in that there was no one better suited than Anakin to surviving in the face of death, but if there was one person who was capable of besting Anakin, it was the man who had trained him – Darth Vader.

"We can't abandon him," Padmé forced out, using all of her strength to keep her unshed tears from falling. "He needs us. Bail, can you send out teams to look for him?"

A long, awkward silence fell. Sabé's grip on Padme's shoulder tightened so much it became painful, and Bel-Iblis stared determinedly at the wall. Bail, looking suddenly as though he had something very large lodged in his throat, looked down at the floor for a moment before unwillingly meeting Padmé's gaze. "Padmé … did you hear us talking earlier about the attack?"

"Yes, I heard the end of it," Padmé said impatiently. "So?"

"We're in dire straits right now, Padmé," the former Senator told her with difficulty. "Our ship is the only one that escaped the ambush. The rest of our comrades … including all the other members of the Council … they were all killed. The three of us, and Kothla … we're all that's left of our high command structure."

"You mean …"

"The Empire's strike worked as planned, Padmé: the Alliance is on the verge of death. If we don't pool all our remaining resources into containing the damage, our dream of restoring freedom to the galaxy will be lost."

"So you're saying we have to abandon Anakin?" Padmé cried out, her returning fury obliterating all sense of restraint. "Bail, are you even _trying_ to find him?"

"If I knew where he was, Padmé," Bail said quietly, "I assure you that I would send everyone I could spare to bring him back. But we don't know where he is. We don't even know if he's alive. We just can't risk it, Padmé, not with what's at stake … I'm sorry."

A deafening smack sounded throughout the room. Sabé gasped and Bel-Iblis looked at Padmé in open-mouthed shock. Bail stood perfectly still, his face expressionless, blood rushing to the reddened area on his cheek where the imprint of Padmé's hand was still visible.

Padmé held her right hand in the air, her tear-filled eyes glaring fiercely at Bail, daring him to speak. The part of her mind that was not overcome with grief could not believe that she had just slapped Bail, but any regrets she may have had were lost in her turbulent sea of anger. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to hit Bail again, but without warning the strength fled from her arm and it fell loosely to her side. As much as she wanted to blame Bail for everything, she knew deep down that it was not his fault.

Unwillingly, Padmé turned to look at the last person in the room, the one whose eyes she had been avoiding because she knew that they alone could confirm her worst fear. Her pleading dark-brown eyes met the sharp, wisdom-filled eyes of Master Yoda and she as she spoke, her voice trembled with the weight of one last hope.

"Please, Master Yoda … can you feel him?"

Garm, Bail, and Sabé all turned their gazes to the last of the great Jedi Masters as he closed his eyes and withdrew deep into the mystical, wondrous energy field that was the Force. No one dared to speak or even breathe as for several long moments while Yoda searched deep within the currents of endless life for some trace of Anakin Skywalker.

Finally, Yoda returned. The moment he opened his eyes, everyone could tell that something was wrong. Never in their entire lives had they seen Yoda look so defeated.

"Vanished from the Force, Jedi Skywalker has," he said quietly. "Sense nothing, I can, but darkness."

"Like five years ago?" Sabé whispered, her hands shaking as she gripped her friend's shoulder. "When Obi-Wan …"

With slow, irrecoverable finality, Yoda nodded.

And with that, the last strand of will tying Padmé Amidala to hope was broken.

Her shoulders slumped, her blood ran cold, and the dark void in her soul opened up to swallow her still-beating heart. All traces of anger, irrational or justified, vanished into thin air to be replaced with blank, empty despair. All semblance of strength went out the window, and had Sabé not moved quickly to steady her, she would have fallen over.

And then the tears, which she had held in for so long, began to fall.

Sabé pulled her friend's head onto her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her. Padmé could not stop herself; she abandoned all her inhibitions and sobbed unrestrainedly, warm tears leaking out of her deep brown eyes and trickling down her cheeks. She felt like her now-absent heart itself was bleeding out and would continue to do so until there was absolutely nothing left.

_He's gone_, she thought to herself. _He's really gone_.

Padmé was one of the strongest women in the galaxy, but that one thought was too much for her. She couldn't do it. She couldn't live without Anakin.

"Padmé," a strong voice said with quiet force. "Strong, you must be. Think of your children, you must."

Her children … Luke and Leia's beautiful, innocent faces rose into her mind. They would not truly understand, but they would need her. They would need her to be strong.

Some of the light she had believed lost returned to her, shining out of the faces of her children. She knew that once she saw them, she would be able to rise up and carry on, quietly bearing the burden of her suffering. Some measure of hope, however, faint, would always be there, even if she could not see it. But Luke and Leia were asleep now, their dreams untroubled, while hers would now always be haunted with nightmares.

She did not think that in this one moment, when the pain was still so fresh, that she could handle that. So just this once, she would allow someone else to be strong.

Just this once, Padmé Amidala Skywalker would allow herself to cry.

* * *

Isolation was a terrible feeling. Few could truly understand the havoc wrecked on the mind unless they were to find themselves a prisoner, locked away in a tiny cell, separated by an impenetrable barrier from the rest of the universe. Slowly the sensation of confinement overwhelmed the senses and left the prisoner in question feeling as though the walls were slowly and irresistibly closing in around them, until they had been squeezed of every last drop of hope.

Anakin's cell was not the standard Imperial detention block. It was large enough that he could stretch his arms to their fullest extent in every direction and still not touch the walls. The light was bright and clean, very different from the dull, red-tinted illumination he had been expecting. The temperature was comfortable and the long bench he sat on lacked any sharp edges. By Imperial standards, this cell was comparable to a suite.

But none of that mattered to Anakin. He would not have cared if the Imperials had thrown him into the darkest, coldest, smallest cell on the ship. He was not concerned about being hemmed in by four walls and reinforced door. His true prison was in his mind.

It was torture, absolute torture, not being able to touch the Force. It had been his constant and irreplaceable companion every day for twenty-eight years, before he had even truly known what it was. He felt like he was missing a part of himself, like there was a gaping hole inside of him where someone had reached in and tore it out of him. The worst part of it, however, was that without the Force he was not able to reach out to Padmé or his children and tell them that he was still alive. To them, it would be as though he had disappeared from the face of the galaxy.

He understood now, with a bitter jolt of his heart, how Obi-Wan, who he had believed to be so firmly entrenched in the light that he could never fall, could have been seduced by the Dark Side. Locked away in a dark cell, chained in mind and body, forced to endure constant taunts and torture … all without the Force to guide him. Without its calming influence, without the ability to feel a connection to life, it would be terrifyingly easy to surrender to anger and despair. It was the perfect environment in which to break someone's mind and reform it in another image, tearing away their moral convictions and replacing them with a code of hate.

Was that the fate that awaited him? Was he, even at this very moment, being carried towards Coruscant to be cast at the feet of the Emperor so that Lord Sidious could break him the way that he had broken Obi-Wan all those years ago? Anakin didn't know what to believe. Right up until the moment he had lost the Force, he had searched Darth Vader's thoughts, trying to get a sense of his intentions. He had learned nothing. Vader had handled him with respect, refusing to allow his forces to beat Anakin into submission and allowing him to remain conscious while on the transport shuttle. But the Dark Lord's mind had remained completely sealed against him and when Anakin pushed too hard, Vader had given a sharp command and one of the troopers had plunged a needle full of clear liquid into Anakin's neck, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.

He realized now that the needle must have been filled with some unknown agent designed to block the Force. He could not blame Vader for taking the precaution; it would have been beyond foolish to allow a prisoner of Anakin's power to retain contact with the Force. Still, he could not help but be saddened; being stripped of the Force by his former master showed him once and for all that the bond that the two of them had shared no longer existed. The only thing that he and the man once known as Obi-Wan Kenobi shared now were a few bitter memories and destinies irrecoverably intertwined over the mantle of Darth Vader.

The door to Anakin's cell suddenly slid open. Anakin looked up, expecting to see a full squad of Imperial troops, but there was no sign of white armor anywhere. Darth Vader stood alone in the doorway, his massive frame filling the entire entrance to the cell.

"Get up, Anakin," he said shortly.

Anakin obeyed and walked calmly up the short steps leading out of his cell. He did not trip, despite the fact that his hands were still bound behind him. As soon as he was out of his cell, Vader sealed it behind him. Then, without looking at the Jedi, he swept off down the corridor. "Come with me."

Anakin followed him. There was no point in running or refusing to obey. He had agreed to surrender himself in exchange for his family's safety, and clearly Vader was taking him at his word. Violating the honor of their agreement was a surefire way to provoke the Dark Lord's hostility.

Vader led him out of the detention wing and into a lift. Anakin got in and the door closed behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the Dark Lord and found that Vader was still not looking at him, but rather staring fixedly straight ahead. Anakin took this as a hint that there was to be no talking and no questions until they had reached their as-of-yet unknown destination.

The lift stopped and the door opened. Vader and Anakin stepped out and Anakin saw that they were in what appeared to be a private hanger. A sleek, black shuttle rested alone in the hanger's center and behind it were a pair of sliding doors leading out into space. Vader walked purposefully towards the open entrance ramp and boarded the craft. Anakin, after taking one final glance around the hanger, followed him.

They found themselves in a barren passenger compartment, the only distinctive item a long rounded bench along the wall that reminded Anakin of his cell. Vader jerked his head towards the bench, indicating that Anakin should take a seat. Once the Jedi had complied, Vader sealed the boarding ramp, then walked through a narrow door that Anakin guessed led to the pilot's compartment, closing it behind him. Within moments, the shuttle's engine whirred to life and the craft rose off the hanger floor. There came a loud grinding sound that Anakin assumed was the hanger doors opening, then the craft shot forward into space.

Anakin stared fixedly at the blank wall opposite him, trying to piece together what was happening. He had assumed once he saw the shuttle that they had arrived at Coruscant and that Vader was escorting him down to meet with the Emperor. The more he thought about this, however, the less likely it seemed. Stripped of the Force or not, there was next to no chance that Vader would be bringing the most wanted man in the galaxy face-to-face with the Emperor without some sort of additional guard. Maybe Vader was not bringing him to Palpatine at all. He had said that he needed Anakin alive, but perhaps that had only been relevant to the moment. Maybe Vader was still angry about the grievous injuries he had suffered at Anakin's hands and intended to take his former apprentice somewhere isolated where he could dispose of him without witnesses.

The prospect of imminent death did not frighten Anakin. In a way it would be welcome. He had surrendered control of his fate when he had surrender to Vader on board the _Liberty_, and so if Vader destroyed him maybe the terrible vision that he had witnessed in the cave would not come to pass. The galaxy would be safe from the man he would have become. His only regret was that he could not reach out to Padmé, Luke, and Leia and tell them how sorry it was that it had to be this way, that he wished he could have seen them one more time.

The ship jolted slightly and Anakin knew that they were descending into the atmosphere. He closed his eyes and tried to meditate without the Force, hoping to achieve full peace with his end.

After a few more minutes the ship settled to a halt and the engine fell silent. They had landed. The door slid open and Vader stepped once more into the compartment, surveying the Jedi with some hidden expression behind his mask. Anakin stood up and waited for direction.

Vader reached out, grasped his arm, and guided Anakin to the sealed entrance ramp. He punched the descent button and the ramp opened. Anakin caught one long glimpse of a barren, arid landscape, high canyon walls and magnificent, blood-red sunset before Vader spoke.

"This will feel … unpleasant."

Without warning, everything went black.

* * *

When Anakin awoke, he was lying on a cold stone floor in a vast, dimly-lit room. His heart beat was strong in chest, so whatever had just happened, he was still alive. He also noticed that his hands had been freed of their restraints. Anakin tried to stretch out with his perceptions and found that while he still could not touch the Force, there was another presence here that seemed to be pervading him. It felt coldly familiar.

"Forgive me, Anakin. Once again, it was a necessary precaution."

Anakin looked up and saw the tall figure of Darth Vader standing over him, silhouetted eerily against the misty light. His deep, rasping breathing filled the air around them. Anakin pushed himself to his feet and stared hard at the Sith Lord. "And what was the reason for it?"

"Ancient law," Vader told him. "Only those who have accepted the path of the Sith may behold the entrance to the tomb of Naga Sidow."

_The tomb of Naga Sidow …_

Anakin's blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He looked wildly around and felt as though he had stepped back in time. The vast chamber he stood in was identical to the tomb which he had seen in his vision. His eyes swept over the enormous statue of the long-dead Sith Lord, the ornately carved sarcophagus, and the large wall covered with ancient writing and prophecies. The only thing missing was the malevolent, hooded figure claiming the identity of Darth Bane sitting in the throne at the statue's feet. He and Vader were alone.

The Jedi rounded on Vader, unable to keep the smallest hint of trepidation out of his voice. "Why have you brought me here?" he demanded.

"I hardly thought that we could have a conversation on equal footing while you were locked away in the depths of my command ship," Vader said evenly.

Anakin raised an incredulous eyebrow. "So you brought me to an ancient Sith tomb on Korriban? How does that place us on equal footing?"

There was wry humor in Vader's mechanically-altered voice. "Would you prefer the confines of your detention cell, Anakin?"

"I'm not sure at the moment," Anakin said, keeping his eyes on Vader to keep them from straying to the scripture-covered wall. "What do you have to say here that couldn't be said there?"

"You and I have a matter to settle that cannot wait."

Anakin smiled faintly. "Have you brought me here to kill me, Vader?"

The Sith Lord looked unfazed by the question. "Why would I want to kill you, Anakin?"

"Whatever I've suffered at your hands, it can't be equal to what you've suffered at mine," Anakin said quietly. "It's because of me that you're in that suit, bound to machines to keep you alive."

Old guilt stirred in his heart, but it was the thought that he could not voice that dominated Anakin's mind. _It's because of me that you are what you are, because the mantle that you have assumed was supposed to have been mine from the beginning._

Vader was silent for a moment. Anakin stayed perfectly still, his breathing calm, wondering if at any second Vader was going to snatch his lightsaber from his belt and run him through.

"I won't pretend that I enjoy being in this suit, Anakin," Vader said finally. "And I haven't forgotten that it was your blind refusal to accept the truth that led to me being burned within an inch of my life. But taking revenge holds no interest for me now. There are more important matters at stake."

The underlying current of bitterness in Vader's tone kindled Anakin's curiosity. Despite the hostile nature of his surroundings, he felt compelled to lower his guard slightly. "And what is the nature of these matters?"

Vader's empty black lenses bored right into Anakin's gaze. "The survival of the Empire."

"Do you believe that taking me out of the picture will destroy the Alliance?" Anakin asked. "I was never anything more than a symbol, Vader."

"I do not speak of the Alliance," Vader said coldly. "Their command structure and ability to resist the Empire is all but eradicated."

Anakin's heart leapt in fear. "What about my family?"

"Your family is safe, Anakin. I have fulfilled the terms of our agreement."

Anakin felt relief flood his body, lifting a great burden from his soul. It had worked. Padmé, Luke, and Leia were safe. Jadon and Sabé had survived. Whatever happened to him now was nothing in the face of what had been preserved.

"Your wife and her friends may be resilient, Anakin, but the spine of the rebellion has been broken. They are no longer my primary concern. There is another threat to the Empire, one that is immediate and far more dangerous. It comes from within."

"And what is this threat?" Anakin asked.

"The Emperor himself."

Anakin took an unconscious step backward. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. He thought he might have misheard, but the way Vader was staring at him left no room for doubt. "I don't understand."

"Allow me to explain, then," Vader said smoothly. "Come with me."

He swept past Anakin and moved to stand over by the immense carved wall. Swallowing hard, Anakin followed him. Vader stopped and pointed a gloved finger at a row of figures several lines above the space where Anakin knew the prophecy of the Sith'ari to be written.

"Behold the generations of Sith Lords," Vader said reverently. "This line stretches tens of thousands of years, spanning hundreds of individual legacies that make up the history of the Sith. Some presided during the great wars that shaped the galaxy, while others carried on the line in secret during a thousand years of exile. Some are remembered, others have been forgotten, but each and every one of them understood the responsibilities of their title. They gained power so that they could influence the necessary tides of change in galaxy and when the time came, they surrendered their power in accordance with the will of the Force. All of them sought beyond all else to preserve the legacy and the integrity of the Sith … until now."

He rounded on Anakin. "Palpatine has corrupted our line. He cares nothing for the past or the future of our order, and he cares nothing about the citizens of the galaxy who he is responsible to protect. His sole concern is for himself. He is drunk on his power, laden with deluded dreams of absolute control. He would rather see the galaxy burn than prosper. To him, the ideals on which the Empire was founded are tools that he can use to accomplish his own ends. It has gone far enough. The time has come for him to be removed from his throne."

Anakin remained silent, staring at the long line of inscriptions denoting the reign of each and every Dark Lord of the Sith. He knew what Vader was about to ask of him, but it was hard to believe that he was actually saying this: it was so different from everything that had ever passed between them. The previous times Vader had confronted him, it had always been that the Sith Lord wanted Anakin to join him for the sake of their past relationship, a chance to reforge their bond of brotherhood through the power of the Dark Side. Now there was no hint of passion in Vader's tone, no fanatical aura surrounding the vessel of his power. There was nothing but a sense of cold necessity.

"You want me to help you kill the Emperor?" Anakin asked carefully, wanting to make absolutely certain that there was he was not misreading the situation. A miscalculation would come with far too high of a cost.

"Yes."

There it was. It was irrecoverable. Vader was not asking for Anakin's help because he wanted to free him from the lies of the Jedi. He was asking for his former apprentice to aid him in committing a cold-hearted, purposeful murder.

"Vader," he said hesitantly. "Why me?"

"This is for you, Anakin. This is for Padmé, for your children, for every citizen of this galaxy who has suffered under Palpatine's rule. The Empire was founded on the principles of order and justice for the galaxy, and if you want your family to have a chance to benefit from that, then you must know that it does not come freely. There is a price that must be paid, and it must be paid in blood."

"Why not do this yourself?"

"I would if I were able," Vader said, bitterness now so thick in his tone that Anakin felt like it was infecting the air around them. "I recently confronted my master over the suicidal course on which he is leading the Empire. He did not take it well. Conflict ensued, and though I held my own quite capably, I learned that in my present condition I do not have the power necessary to destroy him. It will be too long before I am sufficiently healed to best him alone, so that is why I need you."

"And if I agreed to this," Anakin asked, "What would happen then? You would take the throne, become the new Emperor?"

"Yes," Vader said, and Anakin got the sense that the Dark Lord was smiling coldly behind his mask. "I can understand that the prospect does not appeal to you, but I can assure you that I will make a far better Emperor than Palpatine. I intend to rule with a sense of restraint."

"I have no doubt of that," Anakin said. "What I'm more concerned about is the cost that I will have to pay."

"You refer to the cost of committing yourself to the Dark Side of the Force," Vader said, no hint of amusement in his tone. "Anakin, I will not lie to you. If we are going to protect the greater good, you will have to embrace your power. There is no other way. On the _Liberty_, you told me that you were done running. The time had come for you to make good on that promise. You have used the Dark Side on countless occasions before now. Now you must embrace it completely."

"I can't control it, Vader," Anakin said flatly. "I'm not like you. When I tap into that power, it consumes me; I become a danger to myself and the ones I love. You remember what happened on the landing pad on Mustafar … with Padmé."

"I also remember how you harnessed that power to defeat me, Anakin," Vader said calmly. "You seized control and tore through my defenses like they were nothing. You were focused then, master of both yourself and the Force. If you turn your anger against Palpatine in the same manner, you will destroy him utterly."

"There's something else," said Anakin quietly. "Have you ever heard of the prophecy of the Sith'ari?"

Vader took a step forward, seemingly intrigued. "Yes, I have. It is part of ancient Sith lore, foretelling the coming of one who will destroy the order and rebuild it stronger than ever before. Go on."

"About a week ago, I had a vision," Anakin said slowly. He hadn't told anyone the full truth of his revelation, but he found himself unable to stop. "I was in this very tomb. An ancient Sith spirit appeared and told me that I that I was the Sith'ari spoken of in the prophecy. He claimed that it had been my destiny to join the Sith, to destroy the Jedi Order, to build the Empire according to the will of the Force. He said that because I had resisted, _you_ became the one who committed those acts. But because it wasn't supposed to happen this way, the Force was trying to steer me onto my 'rightful' path. Sooner or later, I would have no choice but to seize the mantle from you and take the path I was supposed to follow from the beginning."

He pointed at the prophecy, carved in ancient script onto the wall beside him. "There."

Vader stepped up and bent down to read the ancient words. There was another moment in which his cold breathing was the only sound that could be heard. After a few seconds Vader stood up and looked directly into Anakin's sharp blue eyes, taking in, the Jedi was sure, the anguish that lay hidden in their depths.

"Anakin," he said finally. "I will never dispute that you have been marked by destiny. You have a power the likes of which has never been seen before, and already you have used it to shape the galaxy, as well as your own path. I also believe that your full potential can only be harnessed through the Dark Side of the Force, for the only thing that has held you back has been the restraint instilled in you by the Jedi. But fate is a mysterious thing, Anakin. Prophecies cannot be taken as absolute because while many of the actions we take are construed as inevitable, all of them can be prevented by a simple exertion of free will. Some of us prescribe to destiny because we believe in the existence of a greater plan. Others of us do not because they choose to put their faith only in the moment. Both of these views have merit, but they are incomplete without the other. The Force comes from all life, and therefore the will of the Force cannot exist without the will of the individual. Our destiny is what we make of it, Anakin."

Anakin stared at Vader's cold, soulless mask in disbelief. He had never heard Vader speak so philosophically before. Both Obi-Wan and the Vader of old had staunchly endorsed the concept of destiny, so it came as a great surprise for him to hear the Dark Lord speak of it in such a manner. He could vaguely recall Mace Windu speaking with him on a similar concept over five years ago. Anakin still did not truly understand what the Jedi Master had meant, but the echo of his words seemed to fuse with Vader's voice, blending the Light, the Dark, the Jedi and the Sith in a way that had never before seemed possible.

"So you don't believe that I should set anything in store by this prophecy?" he asked finally.

"I didn't say that," Vader said evenly. "But both of these prophesies, the Chosen One and the Sith'ari … they are dependent on you, Anakin. What they speak of will only come to pass if you choose to allow it to do so. Do not insult me by suggesting that I was manipulated into becoming a Sith because of a mistake that you made. I have chosen my path because I saw what needed to be done, and I acted upon it. When the time comes, you must do the same."

Anakin felt a heavy weight descending upon him. However, unlike the past burdens of the unknown, this was laden with the weight of knowledge. He knew now, for the first time in years, what his burden was and how far he had to carry it. He no longer had to live in fear that with the next step he took, the next choice he made, the weight of his destiny would fall from above and crush him. He might be bound, but he was no longer chained.

"Is that time now?" he asked Vader.

The Dark Lord nodded. "I believe it is."

Anakin took a deep breath. "Then I will do what you ask. I choose to act."

The moment he spoke, he felt as though a tidal wave had hit him. A rush of sensation flowed into him from all sides, from every corner of the room, from the farthest reaches of the galaxy. It was the most wonderful feeling he had ever experienced, and he imagined himself soaring away on an invisible wind, becoming a part of every life, becoming one with the beating heart of the galaxy itself. The Force … he had forgotten.

Anakin looked over at Vader, and found that he could now sense him clearly. His presence was still cold and focused, but no longer was it the threatening void that he had perceived before. Darth Vader was alive, and therefore he was a part of the Force, connected to Anakin every bit as strongly as Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever been.

"I see that you have succeeded in purging the drug from your system," Vader said approvingly. "Now, as I did, you have learned that any challenge may be overcome … if you have the right motivation."

He turned away from the wall and towards the stairs leading off the high platform. "Come, let us leave."

Anakin took a few steps after him, fully aware now that with the return of the Force, he could snatch his lightsaber from Vader's belt and run him through before the Dark Lord had realized what had happened. "You aren't going to hide the entrance from me on the way back?"

Cold amusement reached Anakin through the Force and he knew that Vader had perceived his previous thought. "You have accepted our path, Anakin. I no longer have any hold over you."

Anakin knew what that meant. He could make a break for freedom, flee Korriban and fly back to Padmé, Luke, and Leia, where he could once more immerse himself in their love, beholden to no responsibility but to cherish them and protect them. But if he acted on that wonderful, selfish impulse, then those he loved would never truly be out of danger. They would pay the price of his suffering, the price of choosing not to act. Fate had caught up to him at last, but he would no longer run from it. The time had come for him to meet it head on.

Anakin reached out with Force for the warm, familiar presence of his wife. He found her, and his children, sleeping peacefully in some distant place far away from the shadows cast by the darkness. He surrounded Luke and Leia with his thoughts and sent them all his love, letting them know that even though they could not see him, he would always be there. He reached out to Jadon, Obi-Wan's unknown son, whom he loved every bit as much as his own children, and let him know that his father would have been proud.

Finally, he came to Padmé, encircled her with his presence, and simply held her, basking in her warmth. In his mind's eye, he imagined the slow rise and fall of her breast, her brown hair dancing across her face, her soft brown eyes hidden beneath her lids as she slept. If only he could be there to watch her sleep …

Immersed in the living dream, Anakin leaned in and pressed his lips to Padmé's kissing her in a way that was simultaneously full of unrestrained passion and tender, unspoken love – all the things that words could not say. He held the kiss for a long moment, then regretfully pulled away. Padmé remained asleep; to her, the kiss would never be anything more than a dream.

Anakin pulled away, but just before he let go he sent Padmé his last thought, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would hear it.

_I always tried to be strong for you, Angel, but more often than not, you were strong for me. I hope that now, when I'm gone, you will find the greatest strength of all … the strength to understand._

When Anakin opened his eyes, he found himself back in the tomb, Vader was standing out of sight, waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, Anakin moved down the stairs and followed the Sith Lord out of the tomb.

* * *

Padmé jerked awake, her entire body alive with sensation. Moments ago she had sliding through a blissful dream, surrounded by warmth and love. With her return to consciousness she felt as though she had been plunged into a pool of icy water. Gasping for breath, she reached behind her and searched for Anakin, who she knew to be sleeping next to her. Her hand met only with empty air. Anakin was not there.

Recollection of what had happened overcame Padmé. She stared blankly at the empty spot on her bed where Anakin should have lain, her heartbeat excruciatingly painful. Remembering why Anakin was gone, what he had done to ensure that she could go on living, caused her to feel as though she had lost him all over again.

Padmé looked over at the foot of her bed and saw Luke and Leia curled there, looking peaceful and free of doubt or worry. She sighed deeply. For a moment she had been certain that she had heard Anakin's voice, been nestled in his embrace, felt his lips on hers.

She lay back down and pulled the sheets tightly around her body, feeling the cool material of her pillow grow warm with the heat of her skin and the fresh tear that trailed down her cheek. She hoped with all her heart that the sensation she had just felt had been nothing but a dream, because as wonderful as it had been, it had felt more than anything like a final goodbye.

* * *

It was well after midnight when the _Reaper_ arrived at Coruscant. The sleek black shuttle once again departed from the landing bay, navigated its way down through the atmosphere, and finally touched down on a heavily guarded landing pad. A full squad of elite stormtroopers leveled their blasters at the boarding ramp as it descended, but they relaxed their rigid stance ever so slightly when Darth Vader strode down the ramp, his black cloak billowing behind him in the cold night wind. His right hand rested on his lightsaber, and his left hand was fastened in a vice-like grip around the bicep of a tall man wearing a black hood that covered his face. The Dark Lord did not acknowledge the soldiers but guided his prisoner across the landing pad and into the open turbolift. Sealing the door behind him, he swept his free hand over the override button, authorizing the lift to carry them directly to the highest level.

As soon as the lift began to rise, Vader reached up and pulled the hood off of his prisoner's head. Anakin shook his head slightly to sweep loose hair out of his face, then turned his sharp blue eyes up to look into Vader's mask.

"Remind me again why this whole charade is necessary? If our goal is to destroy the Emperor, why don't we just finish it tonight?"

"Stability, Anakin," Vader said, a hint of wry amusement evident through the Force. "Palpatine is a cancerous growth. If we make a direct strike at him now, then his diseased influence will continue to spread throughout the Empire. A sizeable portion of the Imperial Navy will rebel, and the galaxy will fall into disarray. We must first isolate him by cutting away the lifelines to his power. Only then, when he is completely alone, will it be safe for us to move in and perform the necessary cleansing."

"And in order for that to work, he needs to believe that he is using me as his weapon against you."

"For all his faults, Palpatine is shrewd when dealing with his enemies. Now that he suspects that I intend to remove him, I have no doubt that he is planning to replace me with you. That is his reason for not publicizing your capture."

"I know his methods," Anakin said flatly. "I'm resisted him before."

"Yes, but this will be different, Anakin. He will no longer be attempting to manipulate you into joining him through subterfuge. He will be trying to entice you openly with the lures of power. You must play his game carefully, even indulge him at times. The more he grows to count on you in his plans, the weaker he will be when the moment comes to strike."

"Palpatine's words will hold no promise for me," Anakin said coldly. "The cost I have paid for his lies is too high."

"Do not forget that you hold the advantage, Anakin. You have power that he does not."

"I won't."

The lift shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. Anakin took in the massive, grandiose throne room analytically, noting the many touches Palpatine had added to indulge his status as master of the galaxy. And there, seated a large throne silhouetted against the night sky, was the Emperor himself.

Palpatine's orange eyes glowed sickly in the dull light, full of malevolent triumph. Anakin fought down his revulsion and forced himself to meet the Sith Lord's gaze calmly and evenly. Vader's grip on his arm tightened and he steered Anakin past the red-robed royal guards flanking the entrance and brought him up a wide flight of steps, face to face with the Emperor. Vader released his grip and took a step back so that he was situated behind Anakin, in perfect position to intercept Anakin should the erstwhile rogue Jedi make a move to escape. Anakin remained still, staring hard at the Emperor, waiting for him to speak.

"Welcome, my young Jedi," Palpatine said finally, his voice even harsher and more strained than when Anakin had heard it last. "I have been waiting for this for a very long time."

The corner of Anakin's mouth twitched slightly. "Your Grace is most patient."

Palpatine laughed, a strangled, evil sound that sent chills down Anakin's spine. "Your wit has served you well, my friend. Now, however, the time has come for you to put it to better use." He gestured casually with a gnarled hand at the restraints around Anakin's wrists. "You'll no longer need those."

The binders opened and fell to the floor with a faint clink. Anakin massaged the raw skin on his wrists carefully, keeping his eyes on the Emperor. Palpatine lifted his head slightly and addressed the royal guards below. "Leave us."

The guards bowed and swept from the room. Palpatine returned his attention to Anakin.

"You have hidden from me for five years, Anakin," he said softly. "You have run from your destiny for five years. No longer will you hide. No longer will you run. I will show you power that you have never imagined. I will help you attain the highest reaches of your incredible potential. The two of us … the three of us …" his cold gaze flickered to Vader, "will impose a new vision of order upon this galaxy. All that you have ever desired I can give you, Anakin. All you have to do is commit yourself to my will."

Anakin remained still, staring into the shallow depths of Palpatine's malicious eyes. Lancing through the face of the Dark Side, he saw what truly awaited him. He saw fire and rebirth. He saw the ashes of a phoenix rising. He saw an end … and a new beginning.

Slowly, without taking his eyes from the Sith Lord's face, Anakin began to lower himself towards the ground.

Palpatine leaned forward in his throne, his harsh breathing quickening and his eyes burning with anticipation. Vader watched his former apprentice descend, his cold, unreadable mask looking like a skull in the dim light of the world beyond the window. The Force swirled around the three titans of power like a gathering hurricane in anticipation of the monumental shift that was occurring.

Anakin felt the strain in his ligaments and tendons as he forced them into the unnatural act of subservience. His mind was whirling with the fragments of a thousand scattered thoughts and emotions, but his heart beat slowly, his breathing remained steady, and his eyes never left Palpatine's face.

_Our destiny is what we make of it._

The knee of Anakin Skywalker touched the floor.

The man who had been known as the Chosen One, the Sith'ari, and the Hero Without Fear bowed his head, his piercing blue eyes turning their gaze to the floor. He thought in a flash of his vision of what might have been in the cave on Dagobah, and recalled himself kneeling before Palpatine in a destroyed office, a twisted mirror image of where he found himself now. He felt Vader beside him, and sensed the Dark Lord give an almost imperceptible nod.

Emperor Palpatine threw back his head and began to laugh. His cold, triumphant mirth filled the room, spreading through the Force like wildfire as the endless current of life and death carried it into the beating hearts of every living being. Destiny had been corrected. Darkness had smothered the light.

The last remaining hope for the galaxy had fallen.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Three weeks have passed since the disappearence of Anakin Skywalker. The Alliance, with no other card left to play, prepares to make an all-out-attack on Coruscant to aid the Leader in his plan to remove Palpatine from power. But there is a new threat now to both the Alliance and the Emperor, one that comes from the heart of the darkness itself. The fragile, war-torn galaxy might not be strong enough to survive the wrath of destiny's chosen warrior ..._


	57. The Final Battle Begins

All right! I was able to finish this post fairly quickly. I'll have to try and speed things up even more, but the next few chapters should be shorter fingers crossed. Thank you for all your wonderful comments and observations, and enjoy the next post!

* * *

**Chapter 57**

_Three weeks later …_

After many busy days and sleepless nights, the day of the attack had finally arrived. All of the battle preparations were now complete, from the inventory of the capital ships to the individual checklists for members of the infiltration team. In a remote Outer Rim system above a barren, isolated world, a thousand ships were gathered, making the last minutes adjustments necessary for the jump to hyperspace. They were a motley assortment, including everything from sleek and powerful battle cruisers fresh out of the shipyards to battered freighters that had been welded haphazardly together and conscripted for the final push. All of them, however, great and small, were united behind the shield of one common purpose, the dream of restoring freedom to the long-suffering galaxy.

The Alliance was ready for war.

* * *

On the bridge of the _Fool's Dream_, the newly-commissioned Mon Calamari space cruiser which had replaced the _Liberty_ as the flagship for the Alliance Fleet, Padmé Amidala Skywalker stood alone, gazing out the forward viewport at the vast stretch of ships which stretched across her entire line of vision, gleaming in the light of the distant sun. It was hard to believe that the time had finally come. For five years she and her colleagues had worked to build an organization that they hoped would one day be able to bring hope to the billions of citizens who had under the fist of the Emperor. No one in their wildest dreams could have imagined that the day of reckoning would come so soon.

There would be no retreat and no restraint. They were, in gambling terms, going 'all in'. If they failed in their mission today, it would be years, perhaps decades, before any of those loyal to the memory of the Old Republic would be able to mount any semblance of significant resistance to tyranny. Yet even if they won the day, it was a virtual certainty that thousands of brave men and women would lose their lives in the coming battle. The young woman who had given so much for the cause of freedom deeply regretted with every fiber of her being that whatever the outcome, the day must end in bloodshed, but she knew in the deepest corner of her heart that it was the only way.

Padmé's hand rose to the smooth curve of her neck and tightly grasped the object which hung there on a thin, woven cord. She ran her fingers lovingly over the familiar carved surface of her japor snippet and a tender half-smile rose onto her soft, rosy lips. Just touching the precious amulet instilled in her a sense of courage and determined passion that only moments before had seemed unreachable. For her, the amulet always had this effect, every bit as much a symbol of hope and renewal to her as her husband had been to billions of oppressed beings throughout the galaxy.

It was Anakin who made this possible, she realized. When those devoted to the cause of freedom had learned of how the Hero Without Fear had sacrificed himself to protect those he loved and the heart of the Alliance, it had fueled a sense of unity and resolution in the hearts of millions of beings who up until that moment had been too afraid to raise their voices against the Empire. Thousands had flown in and pledged themselves to the cause of the Alliance, adding their strength to the growing movement until at last they comprised a force strong enough to make a direct strike at the center of Imperial power.

Padmé closed her eyes as the upwelling of emotion stirred up the pain in her heart that was still acutely fresh. She missed Anakin desperately with every ounce of her soul. Every time she thought of him, she recalled a thousand things that she wished she could have said to him before he had vanished from her world. She wished deeply in that moment she could touch the Force, for if Anakin had indeed become one with the mysterious current that flowed around and through all life, then she would be able to reach out and surround herself with his warmth, his strength, his love just one more time.

Luke and Leia had been amazingly brave. Padmé knew that they did not truly understand why their father had not returned to them as he had promised, but they remained relentlessly positive. Every a door opened around them, they looked up eagerly, as if expecting to see Anakin, with his blue eyes sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide smile, sweeping in to gather them up in his arms and ruffle their hair. When Anakin did not appear, the twins did not show disappointment but resumed their play, confident that the next time would bring what their hearts desired.

Sabé had been amazing, finding ways to keep the children, including the ever mischievous Jadon, amused while still finding time to assist Padmé and the others in planning the operation they were about to undertake. Her dearest friend had even stayed awake long hours into the night, helping Padmé work through her grief. Padmé had not yet made her peace with the aching hole in her heart left by Anakin's disappearance, and if Anakin never found his way back, she doubted that she ever would. However, through some miraculous unknown guidance from deep within her, she was beginning to understand why Anakin had made the choice that he had. Out of the deepest love, she had kept her focus and kept moving forward. She knew that Anakin would have wanted her to go on.

"Padmé?" a gentle voice called to her. "It's time for the final briefing."

Padmé looked over her shoulder and saw Bail Organa standing in the doorway, looking crisp and more invigorated than she had seen him in weeks. She gave her long-time friend and colleague a warm smile. All feelings of anger or blame she had held against him for Anakin's sacrifice had long faded away. "I'm coming, Bail."

Bail returned the smile and disappeared back through the door. Padmé remained still for one moment longer, still clutching her japor snippet, filling herself with strength through her memories of Anakin and her belief in the cause for which she was fighting. Then she turned and walked quickly off the bridge, heading through the doors which lead to the situation room. The small half-smile had not left her lips.

_This is for you, Anakin. This is for our children. This is for the future we should have shared. I hope that we make you proud._

* * *

Bail, Bel-Iblis, and several others were waiting in the situation room when Padmé arrived. Bel-Iblis was huddled with several other military commanders, conversing in low tones over a tactical display showing the Galactic Core. A series of approach routes, ambush lines, and possible escape paths were mapped out with blue, red, and gold lines, respectively. Bail was in discussion with Kothla Tral'fey, who was wearing a sharp and impeccably crisp blue uniform. Upon seeing Padmé, Bail beckoned her over.

"We're just going over the last report from Intelligence," Bail told her. "According to Kothla, Coruscant is defended by the entire First Fleet and most of the Second. The Sixth Fleet is stationed at Bilbringi, a short jump away. Corellia and Kuat are defended by the Third and Fourth Fleets, respectfully. The Fifth Fleet … we don't know where the Fifth Fleet is, but given the position of the others, we assume that it's hiding somewhere in the Core."

"So, basically what Bail's saying is that we're potentially going to be dealing with half of the Imperial Navy," Bel-Iblis called over his shoulder, not looking up from the display. "And that's not counting any battle groups that they might recall from the Outer Rim."

Kothla looked over an acknowledged Padmé with a curt nod. The Bothan's pompous attitude and scathing tendencies had improved markedly during the three weeks since the assault on the _Liberty_. Though Padmé and the others had unanimously agreed that Jostain had acted alone, Kothla seemed to be obsessed with proving that his loyalty and the loyalty of the Intelligence department he now controlled was beyond question. He remained a trying person to deal with, but he was no longer inclined to butt heads with the Councilors at every opportunity, and that made him much more efficient.

"We knew that we were going to be going up against superior numbers," Padmé said. "But I have to admit that having the Imperial Forces so widely distributed will complicate things. If the fleet groups stationed elsewhere in the Core jump back to Coruscant and pin us between them and the First and Second Fleets, we'll have no chance."

"I know," Bel-Iblis said grimly. "That's why I believe that our most viable course of action is to split our forces."

Padmé frowned. "What?"

"We divide our fleet into four battle groups. We send two of them to Coruscant, one to lead the attack and the other to provide support and head off any potential enemy reinforcements. We take the other two groups and send one to Corellia and the other to Kuat to keep the fleets stationed there occupied. By doing this, we will dilute the Empire's strength and give our forces a chance to punch through to Coruscant's surface to assist the Leader."

"By splitting our forces we also dilute our own strength, Garm," Padmé said seriously. "There is also the certainty that the Imperials will be jamming our long-range communications, making communication between our split forces all the more difficult. Are you sure that this is the right course of action?"

"It's a dangerous risk, but it's one that we have to take. I believe that we will have to rely on the Jedi."

"The Jedi?" Kothla echoed, and Padmé saw Bail tense. "Garm, are you sure that they can handle the responsibility?"

"I am confident in their abilities," Bail cut in quickly. "Master Yoda has assured me that they can coordinate our forces effectively."

"Are they all here?" Padmé asked. "I thought that their briefing was supposed to be complete by now."

"I just got a message. They're on their way in now."

Right as he spoke, the door slid open. In came Master Yoda, followed by a handful of figures in plain robes with lightsabers hanging from their belts.

Kothla shifted slightly. Even though recent events had decreased his volatility on the subject, the Bothan remained uneasy around Jedi. He had not been enthusiastic when, in the light of Anakin's disappearance, Padmé and Bail had suggested reaching out to other Jedi who may have survived Order 66 and the ensuing Purge. It was necessary, however, and they had been able to persuade Tral'fey that given the tenuous position of the Rebellion and his homeworld, they needed all the allies they could get.

Master Yoda had spent nearly three full days meditating, searching the currents of the Force for traces of Jedi in hiding. It had to have been exhausting work; very, very few Jedi had managed to escape the Empire's purge and those who had had the sense to remain well-hidden. In the end, only four had answered Master Yoda's call, and those four now stood in the room behind the old Grandmaster.

Quinlan Vos was a tall, muscular imposing man with dark skin and a wild mane of pure black hair. He was a Kiffar, a near-human species with enhanced psychometric abilities. Across his face he had a distinct band of pale yellow, a symbolic tattoo of some kind. According to Master Yoda, Vos had spent substantial time during the Clone Wars working as a double agent, undermining the Separatists from within. During this time, he had fallen under the shadow of the dark side, but through immense suffering and incredible strength of will, he had pulled himself back. During Order 66, Vos had escaped death after the clones who had been serving under his command destroyed his tank and left him for dead. Terribly injured, the Jedi had clung to life in the wilderness, eventually regaining enough strength to fight his way to freedom. One look into the cold, hard pools of Vos's eyes and it was easy to see how badly he had suffered, yet he battled on, filled with the true spirit of a warrior.

Ferus Olin was a handsome man around Anakin's age, with light brown hair and aristocratic features. He was the former Padawan of a Jedi named Siri Tachi, who Padmé knew had been close to Obi-Wan. Owing to this relationship, he had spent a good deal of time during his training in close proximity to Anakin, and the two of them had developed a strong rivalry. Though being forced to work together had allowed them to develop a tolerance for each other, the two never formed a close bond. After a mission to Korriban just prior to the outbreak of the war had gone badly wrong, Ferus had resigned from the Jedi Order. This distancing allowed him to survive Order 66, but once Ferus had learned of the ensuing massacre, he had been unable to resist his true calling. He worked to undermine the Empire from exile, and had proved willing and eager to help them prepare the attack.

Maris Brood was a young Zabrak woman with golden eyes, black hair, and her species' characteristic pattern of skull horns. Master Yoda had known little about her because she had been trained away from the main body of the Jedi Order by a reclusive master. It seemed that after feeling the deaths of so many Jedi in the Force, Maris's master had left her to investigate and subsequently gone missing. Convinced that her master had been killed by the Empire's agents, Maris had returned from the Outer Rim bent on revenge.

Finally, there was Rahm Kota, an elderly human man who had served as a general during the Clone Wars. Kota had tanned, weathered skin, long silver hair, and slanted eyes that gave him the appearance of a grizzled hunter. His face and his harsh disposition spoke to his toughness and his military experience. Like Vos, he had fought his way free of the treacherous clones and escaped to the Outer Rim Territories, only now returning to answer Master Yoda's call.

"I will take one group to Corellia," Bel-Iblis said. "Jedi Olin will accompany me. Kothla, you will lead the other group to Kuat alongside Jedi Vos."

Tral'fey looked less than thrilled about his assignment, but a quick glance into Vos's steely eyes seemed to convince him that it was best not to argue.

"I will be leading our forces at Coruscant, accompanied by Jedi Brood," Bail said firmly. "Padmé, that leaves you and Jedi Kota …"

"We've already discussed this, Bail," Padmé said warningly. "Jedi Kota can handle the reserve group alone. I will be accompanying Master Yoda to Coruscant's surface to make contact with the Leader."

"Padmé," Bail said bracingly. "I know that we considered the possibility …"

"What possibility?" Padmé laughed. "Bail, don't even try. You know that I would be next to useless as a fleet commander. My strength lies in negotiation. The Leader reached out to the Alliance Council, and therefore a member of that Council should be present when we join forces."

Bail looked unconvinced. "There is a substantially greater risk with the ground operation. Think of your children."

"You think I don't know that, Bail?" Padmé asked. "This will not be the first time that I have put myself in the line of fire. And don't mention my children: they are in good hands, and I have no intention of letting them grow up without a mother, especially now …"

Her voice trailed off, but the absolute finality of her words resonated so deeply in the silence that Bail had to admit defeat.

"Anything else?" Bel-Iblis asked.

"We're forgetting the Emperor's skifter," Padmé said warningly. "Kothla, what do we know about the position and status of the Death Star?"

"According to our last intelligence report, the Death Star is currently still in orbit around Denon," Kothla told her. "It has been there for a full week, simply waiting. It has not moved to attack any targets since Dantooine … at least none that we know of."

"The Emperor's planning something," Padmé said with absolute certainty. "I know Palpatine – he won't stand to have a weapon like that on the sidelines for so long."

"What are you saying, Padmé?" Bail asked. "Are you advising that we abandon the attack?"

"No." Padmé shook her head firmly. "I'm saying that we have to be prepared for anything."

"We will be," Bail assured her. "All right then, we go to hyperspace in ten minutes. Everyone get to your assigned vessels and good luck."

Bel-Iblis and Tral'fey shook hands with their colleagues, while Ferus Olin, Quinlan Vos, and Rahm Kota bowed. Together, the five of them swept out of the room.

Bail returned to the tactical display and continued to flick through the final list of preparations for the attack. Maris Brood swept over to converse in quiet tones with Master Yoda. Padmé gathered herself for a moment and was about to join Bail when Sabé swept into the room, looking tired but satisfied. Padmé hurried over to meet her friend.

"How did it go?" she asked quietly.

"Very well," Sabé answered. "Luke, Leia, and Jadon are all safe with your mother and father on Naboo. They, as well as Sola, Darred, and your nieces, are going to go into hiding. I also contacted Owen and Beru Lars to tell them that it's too dangerous at the moment for Luke to return there. I'm sure that Bail has already talked to Breha about Leia."

"Thank you, Sabé," Padmé said gratefully. "That's a huge relief for me."

"Your parents were surprised to say the least," Sabé added. "I can't even begin to describe how ecstatic they were to learn that they had two more grandchildren, but I think that they really would have been even happier if you could have been there. They also …" Sabé's voice halted slightly before she continued, "They also send you their love and their deepest regrets about Anakin."

"It had to be hard for them," Padmé whispered, her voice suddenly welling up with emotion. "They finally learn that their daughter has settled down and started a family just like they always wanted, only to find out at the same time that their son-in-law is missing, possibly dead, and their daughter is rushing out to fight what all rationale says is a losing battle. Mother was probably beside herself."

"She was very emotional, Padmé," Sabé said gently. "But she understands. They all understand."

Padmé smiled gratefully at her friend, unshed tears lingering in the corners of her eyes. "Thank you, Sabé. I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

"You were always there for me when I needed you, Padmé," Sabé said gently. "That's what true friends do."

"Jump to lightspeed in one minute."

Padmé squeezed Sabé's arm affectionately and moved over to stand by Bail. All traces of doubt or hesitation were gone from her friend's face. He was completely committed and ready for action.

"Sound off."

"Group One, in position," Maris Brood announced.

"Group Two, set," Ferus Olin said smoothly over the channel.

"Group Three, ready," Quinlan Vos said coldly.

"Group Four, all systems go," Rahm Kota confirmed.

"Good," Bail said firmly. "Prepare to jump on my mark. Ten seconds."

He turned to look over his shoulder at Padmé and Yoda, who were standing right behind him, and spoke in reverent tones. "May the Force be with us!"

"It will be, Bail," Padmé said, smiling openly at him. "I know that it will be."

"Three … two … one … Mark!"

A thousand Alliance ships shot forward into hyperspace streaking towards the Galactic Core. The mission to liberate the galaxy had begun.

* * *

Floating high above the conquered world of Corellia, the Imperial Star Destroyer _Vengeance_ lay in wait. Its captain, a rigid man with a scarred face and a battle-hardened disposition, paced back and forth along the bridge with growing impatience. Every so often he glanced over his shoulder at the hooded man who stood at forward end of the command deck, gazing silently out of the viewport. The captain knew better than to approach him without something to report, so once again he resumed his pacing, hoping quietly that at any moment his subordinates would receive the conformation they were waiting for.

At long last a young, nervous-looking ensign got up from his station, approached the captain, and whispered something in his ear. Letting out an inner sigh of relief, the captain nodded to the ensign and then approached the man who was waiting for him at the end of the deck.

As he drew near, the captain felt a chill steal over him, a cold feeling that set into his very bones. He got the sense that this man was somehow watching him even though his gaze remained directed through the viewport. Stopping a respectful distance away, the captain cleared his throat and the hooded man shifted slightly.

"My Lord," the captain began. "We have received conformation from our scout ships. The Rebels have gone to hyperspace. They will be here within two hours."

The man slowly turned to face the captain. Though his military discipline held well, the officer's heartbeat jumped and the icy feeling pervaded his body once more. The man's face was completely shrouded in shadows, as if he were wearing some living mask of darkness to conceal his features. Only his eyes, piercing and cold, shone through the shadows, and the captain felt sure that their laser-like gaze was searching his soul.

The man spoke, his voice low and calm, every word carrying a sense of irrecoverable purpose. "Tell the groups to take up their positions. We shall wait here for them. Alert Lord Vader that the events which he foresaw are in motion and that our endgame has begun."

"Yes, My Lord," the captain said reverently. "Shall I alert the Emperor as well?"

The man turned back to resume his vigil of the stars beyond the viewport. "That will not be necessary, Captain."

The captain bowed and quickly strode off to fulfill his orders, repressing a shiver as he did so. Though he could not see his commander's shrouded face, he felt certain that the man had smiled.

* * *

"T minus ten seconds," Garm Bel-Iblis called out to his crew. "Stand by for reversion to real space."

On their commander's mark, all the Alliance vessels in Group Two decelerated from lightspeed, materializing as scheduled in the Corellian system. Bel-Iblis allowed himself a small moment of nostalgia as he stared down at the temperate, peaceful, blue-green surface of his homeworld. He may have been away for a long time, but his nature and his kinship with his homeworld had not changed at all. Once a Corellian, always a Corellian.

He could not get lost in reminiscence, however. However peaceful Corellia had been prior to the start of the war, its status had changed when the Empire arrived. This system was now a hostile battleground, harboring a large enemy force. Ordinarily Bel-Iblis would have cautioned against invading such a well-defended enemy stronghold with the numbers he currently had at his command, but his job was not to drive the Imperials out of the system. On the contrary, he wanted to keep them there for as long as possible.

First, however, he had to find them.

"Jedi Olin," he called out. "Are all of our vessels at full battle status?"

"Affirmative, General," Ferus Olin answered. "Surveillance has taken an initial sweep of the area. There's no sign of the enemy."

Bel-Iblis frowned. That couldn't be right. There was no way that the Empire would leave such a crucial system undefended, even if they expected that the attack was nothing more than a diversion for the assault on Coruscant. Maybe they were cloaked, or else concealed from the ship's sensors by interference from the planet.

"They're here," he said confidently. "Keep searching."

"Sir!" One of the sensor officers called out. "Sir, I've got something!"

Bel-Iblis hurried over to the officer's station and examined his display. There, directly between them and the planet, was a lone Star Destroyer. It hung motionless like a massive arrowhead in space, making no move to attack them. The designation on the display said it was the _Vengeance_, one of the Star Destroyers that had participated in the ambush of the _Liberty_ three weeks ago.

Bel-Iblis stared hard at the display. If anything, the presence of only one Star Destroyer disturbed him even more than the absence of any resistance. As capable of a ship as the _Vengeance_ was, it could not defend the planet on its own. There had to be more to this.

"I sense something," Ferus announced quietly, his ominous tone causing Bel-Iblis to turn around. "There is a dark presence here, like a void in the Force. It feels cold … yet familiar."

Bel-Iblis chest tightened anxiously. "Is it Vader?"

He had not anticipated an encounter with the Dark Lord of the Sith. If Vader was here, then their mission had just become exponentially more difficult. The Emperor's greatest servant was certain to have a plan of some kind.

"No, I don't think its Vader," Ferus said, his eyes closed as he delved deeper into the Force. "I can't explain it. It feels distinct, but the signature is every bit as powerful, if not more."

Bel-Iblis felt his chest tighten even further. The news that the dark adversary might not be Vader was, if anything, even less welcome. That meant that the Emperor had recruited a new Dark Side disciple to unleash upon them. Considering that Vader alone had almost brought the Alliance to its knees, the possibility of an equally powerful accomplice was extremely unwelcome.

"Sir, they're accelerating."

Bel-Iblis glanced back at the display and saw that the Vengeance was indeed moving towards them, approaching attack speed. Surely the Imperials didn't intend to take them on when they were so vastly outnumbered? He searched the screen for any sign of reinforcements, but there was none.

"Sir, should we engage?"

Bel-Iblis considered it. His instincts were screaming against him, but he didn't see that they had much choice. An Imperial Star Destroyer smashing at full attack speed into the heart of his forces with all guns blazing would wreck considerable havoc. They had to meet it head on if they were to avert the damage.

"Move to engage," he ordered.

The cruiser began to lumber forward, its weapon systems brought to bear upon the onrushing Star Destroyer. Every ship in the fleet was targeting the Vengeance, but still it rushed on like the point of a spear. Bel-Iblis narrowed his eyes as he stared hard at the craft's now-distinct prow. "Fire at will."

Without warning, a heavy blast rocked the command ship. Bel-Iblis glared at the _Vengeance_, before suddenly he realized that the blast had come from behind. Warning klaxons blared and the sensor's officer's alarmed voice reached him.

"Imperial ships have reverted from hyperspace behind us!"

Sure enough, on the sensor display Bel-Iblis could see a swarm of red icons denoting five Imperial Star Destroyers, numerous smaller ships, and an enormous swarm of TIE Fighters. They smashed into the rear of his forces like a rushing tidal wave, plowing their way with all guns blazing towards the heart of his formation.

_They knew that we were coming_, Bel-Iblis realized, cold dread seizing him. _They set us up_.

No longer was this a mission to divert the enemy. This was a fight to survive.

* * *

The moment the _Fool's Dream_ arrived at Coruscant, Bail Organa could tell that the Imperials had been expecting them. A cordon of twenty Star Destroyers stretched across his field of vision, creating a barrier of pure firepower between the Rebels and the capital. Almost immediately, a hail of turbolaser bolts rained down upon their shields as the enemy concentrated their fire on the heart of the Rebel Fleet.

"All craft stay in formation!" he bellowed. "If they drive us apart, we'll never break through!"

He rounded to face Maris Brood, but the Jedi was already relaying orders telepathically to the captains of their adjacent vessels and informing General Kota that his group should hang back to watch for flanking attempts. Satisfied that she could handle the job, Bail turned his attention to the most pressing matter on their agenda: punching a hole in Coruscant's defenses so that the strike team could slip through.

"Padmé, Yoda, hold on," he called over the comlink. "We're going to get you through, but it'll be a little bumpier than anticipated."

"Copy, Bail," Padmé answered. "Just tell us when to go."

Bail switched frequencies and began to relay orders. "All craft, concentrate your fire on the center of the enemy line. We need to force one of those Star Destroyers out of position!"

He snapped a gesture at the gunnery control and immediately all of the _Fool's Dream_'s forward turbolaser batteries began to hammer away at the shields of the indicated vessel. All nearby Rebel craft joined in the bombardment, concentrating their fire at the shield emplacements on the upper tower. The Star Destroyer fought back fiercely, but slowly the Alliance's attacks began to punch through.

"It's folding!" Bail shouted. "Keep your fire up!"

The _Fool's Dream_ was taking a pounding from adjacent Star Destroyers, but Bail forced himself not to think about it, trusting that the ship's reinforced shields would hold. The surface of the target Star Destroyer was beginning to glow red from multiple direct strikes. Recognizing the imminent danger, the vessel began to pull back.

"Keep up the pressure," Bail called. "Strike team, stand by."

The target was trying to escape, but now its propulsion systems were too badly damaged. The shields folded, and a blast of concentrated turbolaser fire smashed through the bridge, setting off a chain of explosions within the ship. Vanquished, the massive craft began to spiral backwards through space, drawn in by Coruscant's massive gravitational field.

"We have an opening!" Bail shouted triumphantly. "Strike team, go!"

The heavily-shield freighter carrying Padmé, Master Yoda, and fifty crack ground troopers shot forward, streaking at top speed towards the hole created by the disabled Star Destroyer. Four identical decoy freighters, piloted by droids, shot after them. The Star Destroyers nearest the breach turned their fire upon the freighters, and one of the decoys vanished in a storm of fire. Bail held his breath, watching as the lead vessel soared on.

The disabled Star Destroyer, with escape pods breaking off left and right, had been drawn to the edge of Coruscant's new planetary defense shield. On Bail's order, the Rebels concentrated their fire on the shield, weakening the area directly beneath the Star Destroyer. As the infiltration freighter honed in, the dying craft smashed into the shield, vanishing in a massive explosion that, for a few brief seconds, overloaded the barrier.

Massive ripples of distortion static spread across the surface of the shield, creating an opening. With one all-out burst, the strike team's freighter slipped through the hole, causing a triumphant whoop to go up along the bridge of the _Fool's Dream_.

"We're in," Padmé's voice came over the channel. "We're heading for the rendezvous point now. Good luck, Bail."

Despite the chaos erupted around him, a smile stretched across Bail's face. "You too, Padmé. We won't let you down."

The smile vanished as the shield closed and the channel was lost. Bail returned his attention to the remaining Star Destroyers, all of which had just launched a massive wave of TIE Fighters. The former Senator's mouth settled into a grim line. There was a battle to be won.

* * *

"Our shields are folding!" one of the officers screamed. "We need to divert power!"

"That won't last us long enough!" another officer shouted. "General, we need to run for it!"

_Run where?_ Bel-Iblis thought in dismay. The Imperial ambush had been extremely well-planned, with a massive line of reinforcements cutting off their only escape route. They had forced the Rebels into a tight formation where they had almost no room to maneuver and only limited avenues open for counterattack. Meanwhile, the _Vengeance_ had been creating absolute havoc, diverting power to its forward shields and plunging like a spear into the midst of his forces, its turbolasers quickly turning any vessel unable to escape its path to slag. Already Bel-Iblis had lost over half of his command and the rest of his forces were in imminent danger of following. The Imperials seemed intent on taking no prisoners.

Bel-Iblis felt a rush of hatred for the unknown Imperial commander who had executed the ambush. He was clearly a brilliant tactician to have foreseen and accounted for all possible avenues of resistance. How could the Alliance have missed this new, deadly threat? Perhaps the Emperor had been holding him in reserve, concealed beneath his cloak like a dagger he intended to thrust into his enemy's faintly beating heart?

Sweat was sliding down Ferus Olin's smooth brow as he worked feverishly to keep all craft in position. It was an admirable effort, but Bel-Iblis knew that ultimately it was useless. Their remaining time had to be measured in minutes now, if not seconds. He wished that he could get off a message to Bail and the others to apologize for their failure and to warn them that they would soon have a new foe to contend with, but he knew that he had done all that he could. The only thing left to do now was to go down fighting.

Without warning, a low, cold voice came over the ship's general channel. Everyone froze, and Bel-Iblis noticed to his surprise that the Imperials had stopped firing. All confusion was wiped away, however, by the words that followed.

"General Bel-Iblis and Jedi Olin," the voice said. "You have fought bravely and done all that you can to further your cause. However, you must now that by now any further resistance is futile. The time has come for you to consider surrender."

Bel-Iblis seized the comm unit and spoke heatedly. "I don't know who this is, but I can assure you that we will not be bowing before you or your master any time soon. Why don't you just finish us off and be done with it?"

"I do not want to shed blood unnecessarily, General," the voice said smoothly. "My mandate was to defeat you, not wipe you out. If you yield now and allow us to take you into custody, then I can promise that you and all your comrades will be treated well."

Bel-Iblis glanced over at Ferus Olin, who shook his head slightly. "What if we refuse?"

"Then my forces will resume fire and not cease until all of you are incapacitated or dead," the commander answered coldly. "Don't be a fool, General."

Bel-Iblis looked around at the faces of all of his crew, many of who were frozen in fear. He did not want to give himself into Imperial custody; it would mean admitting that he had been broken. However, he could not callously condemn those under his command to such a fate. From the look on Ferus's face, Bel-Iblis could tell that the Jedi had come to the exact same conclusion.

Feeling as though a heavy chain had wrapped itself around his soul, Bel-Iblis sighed. "Very well. If I have your word that no harm will come to those under my command, then we shall surrender to you."

"Smart choice, General," the commander told him. "You will be boarded shortly. Do not resist, or your surrender is voided."

Bel-Iblis set down the comm and stared emptily out the forward viewport towards the peaceful, shimmering surface of his home planet. It was said that Corellians had an unbreakable spirit. Maybe his time away from his homeworld had changed him after all.

* * *

The undercity of the galactic capital of Coruscant was surprisingly quiet. Despite the battle raging in the skies above and the constant threat of Imperial patrols, the strike team so far had yet to encounter any other intelligent beings, hostile or otherwise. It had been two hours since they had crash-landed on the planet's surface, and thus far the fifty-three Rebels' greatest challenge had been navigating their way through the dank and clustered alleys that snaked and twisted their way across the surface of the city planet. Though they had set down relatively close to the chosen rendezvous point, there was no sign of the Leader, or any of his followers.

Padmé kept her hand on her blaster as she picked her way past the shells of discarded droids and fallen chunks of ferrocrete, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Behind her, Sabé was moving in a similarly furtive manner, clearly on edge. Commander Rikers, the leader of the fifty heavy-assault troopers that they had brought with them, was constantly on alert, occasionally calling halts and sending scouts to scope out the path ahead. Always these troopers came back with nothing to report, and the lack of results was beginning to take its toll.

Only Master Yoda seemed to be immune to the gloom and mounting sense of futility. The ancient Jedi Master navigated his way through the trying labyrinth with surprising nimbleness, seeming quite in tune with his surroundings. Padmé, who had never before ventured into Coruscant's lower levels, could only assume that Yoda's duties as a Jedi had taken him down here at one point or another during his great lifespan. Occasionally, he would stop and reach out with the Force, searching for some sign of life, but it seemed that he was having no more luck than the scouts. Whatever beings lived down here must have been intimidated by the presence of the assault troopers; perhaps they believed that this was another Imperial patrol.

"I don't like this," Sabé finally said after what seemed like an eternity. "We should have met someone … anyone … by now. What if this whole thing was nothing but a hoax? What if they're not coming?"

"It's not a hoax," Padmé said firmly. "I'm certain that there's a good reason why they haven't found us by now. Maybe they're being watched."

"That's not encouraging," Sabé muttered. "If they're being watched, then more than likely we're being watched too."

This thought had occurred to Padmé; it certainly explained the cold shiver than continued to run up and down her spine. More than once, she had been certain that she felt a pair of distant eyes upon her, but whenever she turned to look there was nothing. She could tell that others had the sense too, but they were reluctant to act without knowing who it was that was spying on them. It could be members of the Leader's band, but it could just as easily be Imperials or some as of yet unknown third party. Isolated in hostile territory as they were, the most prudent decision at the moment was to proceed cautiously, lest they gain themselves new enemies by making rash judgments.

"Everyone freeze!"

The assault troopers snapped up their blaster rifles to the firing position, pointing them in every direction to cover all possible attack angles. Padmé's heart leapt and she gripped her blaster tightly. She couldn't tell from what direction the voice had come; the acoustics of the surrounding buildings seemed to carry it to them from every direction.

"Do it now!" the voice called out again. "You're surrounded by more than a hundred of us. If you don't lay down your arms, we'll cut you down where you stand."

Padmé looked over at Commander Rikers, whose grim, battle-ready expression told her that he was quite prepared to take his chances against the unknown challenger in a shootout. Padmé suspected that it might be a bluff, but they could not afford to be wrong. A rash decision could cost them everything.

Suddenly, Master Yoda's voice rang out, amplified many times through the Force. "Stop! Lay down your arms, you will! No bloodshed, there must be!"

Commander Rikers looked incredulously at the Jedi Master, making no move to obey the order. Padmé herself was surprised by Yoda's plea, but she could only assume that he had sensed something through the Force. Her instinct told her to trust the Jedi Master. She gently placed a hand on the barrel of the commander's rifle, telling him silently that he was to obey. Slowly, grudgingly, Rikers complied and lowered his weapon, motioning for his troops to do the same.

"Smart choice, Grandpa," another voice called out, this one sounding younger with a hint of innate cockiness to it. "There's no need for you to throw out your back in a fight that you know you'd lose. Nice and slowly, set down your weapons, then get your hands where we can see them."

The troopers, including Rikers, lay down their blaster rifles, then raised their hands above their heads. Padmé and Sabé set down their blasters as well, trading an anxious glance. It didn't sound like their captors were stormtroopers, but it was too early to relax their guard. Anything could happen.

"Our weapons are down!" she called out. "We aren't going to try anything. Come out into the open so that we can talk."

There was silence for a few moments, and Padmé thought maybe their challengers were going to refuse. Then there was a rustling sound and two figures stepped into view, weapons up and ready to fire at the slightest provocation.

Padmé was surprised; their assailants were not Imperials; in fact, they were not at all whom she had been expecting. The man on the right was tall and lean with brown hair that appeared to be ruffled in a windswept manner, as though he had just stepped off of a swoop bike. He had sharp brown eyes and a ruggedly handsome face, but there was distinctly young look about him. In fact, he could not have been any older than sixteen, seventeen at most. The cockiness that she had heard in his voice was easily evident in his face as well, a devil-may-care look that spoke to one who had grown up away from his parents or any other greater authority. He wore a loose white shirt, a black vest, and black pants with yellow piping down the sides, apparently some sort of badge of honor.

The man on the left did not appear to be much older than his companion, though it was difficult to tell because he wore a blood-red scarf wrapped tightly around his entire head. There was something cold in his eyes, a ruthless glint that told her that this man, young though he was, would make anyone a dangerous enemy. He wore a suit of stained silver body armor that seemed familiar to her in design, although she couldn't quite place it. She had little doubt that this was the man who had spoken first – could he possibly be the Leader?

Padmé stepped forward. Sabé made an anxious movement behind her, but Padmé ignored it; they would need to be diplomatic if they wanted to find out who these people were. "You can lower your weapons," she said soothingly. "We don't want to fight you. If there are any disputes between us, we can work them out."

"We'll lower our weapons when we feel like it, sister," the young man on the right said brashly, seemingly ignoring the fact that Padmé was nearly fifteen years older than he was. His voice had a distinct accent - Corellian, possibly. "And we'll work out any disputes on our own terms."

"Don't get cocky, Solo," the armored man snapped. "They could still be dangerous." He jerked his blaster rifle in Master Yoda's direction. "That one's a Jedi."

Solo snorted. "What, Short Stuff here? He looks like he belongs in the sandbox."

Yoda did not respond to the jibe, keeping his sharp gaze locked on the armored man's cold eyes. The man took a step towards the Jedi Master, his blaster rifle leveled at his face. "You haven't dropped your lightsaber, Jedi. Hand it over, or I'll put a hole in between your eyes."

"Come on, Jodo," Solo said, rolling his eyes. "Don't get carried away now."

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it, Solo," Jodo snapped. "I'm losing my patience, Jedi."

Padmé looked anxiously at Master Yoda, her heart beating fast in her chest. Yoda continued to stare directly at the man holding a gun to him, looking like he was trying to read his mind. Then he slowly withdrew his lightsaber from his robe and handed over. The man called Jodo clipped it onto his belt. Without removing his blaster from Yoda, he turned to the others. "Now, who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I am Padmé Amidala," Padmé answered calmly. If these men had any connection to the Leader, then there was no point in concealing their identities. "This is Sabé Naberrie, Jedi Master Yoda, and Commander Tal Rikers. We are here to meet with the man who calls himself the Leader."

"Are you now?" Solo asked, his tone suddenly intrigued. He lowered his blaster several degrees. "You aware of the rep that the Leader has around here? That's a dangerous order, sweetheart."

_Sweetheart?_ Padmé thought to herself, unsure whether to be irritated or amused. _Whatever else this Solo is, he certainly doesn't lack confidence._

Sabé did not seem to find Solo's antics entertaining. She stepped up in front of Padmé and glared at the cocky young man before them. "Listen, hotshot. We don't have time to mince words. We mean you no harm, but you go and hold us up like common criminals. Who do you think you are?"

"Hey, the lady's got a temper," Solo said, flashing the two women a charming lopsided grin. "There's no need to bite my head off just to get my name, sister. I'd have given that to you free of charge. I'm Han Solo, and this stiff here is Jodo Kast."

"Stop flirting with the prisoners, Solo," Jodo said coldly. He had yet to lower his blaster. "They're out of your league."

"Out of my league?" Solo looked highly affronted. "Listen, buddy, just because you think …"

"Can it, Solo," Jodo said firmly. "If they are who they say they are, then we would be well-served to finish them off now, before the Empire descends upon our heads."

"If they are who they say they are," Han countered, "Then the boss is going to want to see them. I say that we bring them in."

"Please do not talk about us as though we are not here," Padmé said mildly. "We are not going anywhere until we know what you plan to do with us."

"You don't have much choice, Your Worshipfulness," Han said smoothly. Turning to his companion, he lowered his voice. "The longer we wait here, the bigger chance there is that the Imperials are going to find out about our little party and try to crash it without an invite. The boss can handle any trouble these guys are good for. I'd just as soon stick around for a fight, but I know that you don't like to be in the thick of things."

Jodo fixed his cold stare on the young Corellian. "This is the last time I'm doing patrol with you, Solo, I swear. You're not worth the trouble you cause."

"I'm heartbroken," Han said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Let's get going, shall we?"

Jodo raised his voice and called out as if to the walls themselves. "Round them up," he ordered.

Within moments, at least a hundred beings emerged from the shadows of the various buildings surrounding them. They were of an assortment of different species and backgrounds, but all of them carried heavy weapons and looked dangerous. They flooded the narrow alley all around them, settling into positions that cut the Rebels off from any possible escape. Jodo and Han stepped forward and took Sabé and Padmé by their respective arms, pulling them away from the group. Ten soldiers stepped up and surrounded Master Yoda, indicating that even without his lightsaber, they did not trust the Jedi. Jodo nodded to the remaining beings, who stood waiting silently for his command. "Keep the rest of them here. We'll contact you with further instructions."

Han tried to guide Padmé forward, but she held her ground. "Where are you taking us?" she demanded. "We're supposed to be meeting up with the Leader! If we don't …"

"Don't fret, sweetheart," Han told her, nudging her in the small of her back to start her walking. "All of you are going to the Leader – right now."

* * *

Garm Bel-Iblis winced as the stormtrooper walking behind him jabbed him again with the barrel of his blaster rifle, not so subtly telling him that if he didn't pick up his pace, he was going to receive a far more serious reminder. Grudgingly, he quickened his pace.

Beside him, Ferus Olin remained silent as he endured similar jabs. It had been only a little over an hour since they had surrendered to the mysterious enemy commander, and during that time all of the surviving Rebels had been transported to detention camps on Corellia's surface. Ferus and Bel-Iblis had been held aside, given their status as the leaders of the Alliance forces. Ferus's lightsaber and Bel-Iblis's blaster pistol had been confiscated and now the two of them were being marched along the pristine, barren corridors of the Corellian state building in the capital city of Coronet. Bel-Iblis could only assume that they were being taken to meet with the Imperial commander to make the surrender official. In spite of himself, he was looking forward to the meeting. He wanted to look into the eyes of the man who had so thoroughly bested him before he flew into a rage that was certain to earn him the wrath of his captors. The longer he could drag out the proceedings, the longer it would be before the commander could return to Courscant to ambush Bail and the others.

Finally, the two Rebel leaders were shoved into a large open area that Bel-Iblis recognized as a state dining room. The late afternoon sun danced within golden streams through the ornate windows and far below, the capital city of Coronet lay gleaming like a row of polished jewels. It was a beautiful sight, but Bel-Iblis had eyes only for the tall, hooded figure that stood near the window, silhouetted against the light like a living shadow.

The figure turned to face him, and Bel-Iblis reeled backwards in shock. The man's face was shrouded by a mask of shadows that completely hid his features. With the hood pulled up over his head, it was impossible to discern anything about the man's appearance except for his eyes, which shone icily with cold purpose.

"Garm Bel-Iblis and Jedi Olin," he said smoothly. "An honor to see you in person. Be at ease. These proceedings will not take long."

"What is the nature of these proceedings?" Ferus Olin asked flatly.

"Nothing substantial," the man replied calmly. "Merely questioning."

"Questioning?" Bel-Iblis exclaimed. "You intend to torture us for information now?"

"I did not say that, General," the man responded coolly. "You will not experience any pain unless you resist."

"The hell with this!" Bel-Iblis snapped. "We're not going to cooperate with you, whoever the hell you are. You will get no information from us on the Alliance!"

"The Alliance doesn't concern me, General. This information is more personal."

Without warning, Bel-Iblis felt as though someone had rammed a force pike into his head. The sensation was not necessarily painful, but the shock of it left him reeling. An immense chill swept over him and a series of distorted images shot through his thoughts, memories of recent conversation and interactions with people, one woman in particular.

_Padmé …_

As suddenly as it had begun, the experience was over. Bel-Iblis was kneeling on the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his head pounding. He felt as though something had been callously ripped from him without regard for the ensuing consequences. Beside him, Ferus had not fallen, but he was breathing equally rapidly and seemed to have experienced the same brutal invasion of his thoughts. The Jedi glared at the dark man with a fury that Bel-Iblis had never before seen on his calm face.

"What was that?" he demanded angrily. "Of what interest to you are Padmé Amidala or her children?"

Bel-Iblis felt his heart skip a beat. No, that couldn't be. Padmé, Luke, and Leia had already suffered too much. Anakin had given his life to protect them from the Empire. The knowledge that he might have just unwillingly compromised their safety and dishonored the Jedi's last sacrifice made him sick.

"That does not concern you, Ferus," the dark man said, a cutting edge to his tone. "You never were able to understand such things." He nodded to the guards posted on both sides of the door. "We're done here. Take them away."

The guards moved in and hauled Bel-Iblis to his feet. Still disoriented from the mind-probe, the Corellian was unable to resist. Ferus, however, struggled furiously against his captors.

"Do not presume to know me, Sith," Ferus snapped. "Those who serve the light serve truth, while the dark survives on nothing but lies."

The troopers moved in to subdue the Jedi. Bel-Iblis tried to warn him and received a blow to his head for the trouble. He watched through blurry eyes as the situation unfolded.

Ferus moved before any of the troopers could react. He elbowed the soldier holding him in the temple, used the Force to throw off a second, then stretched out a hand and summoned his lightsaber to him from the belt of his captor. With a _snap-hiss_, a brilliant blue blade sprang into life, directed at the dark man's heart.

The dark man reached to his belt and casually removed the lightsaber that hung there. A second _snap-hiss_ was heard, and another blue blade sprang into existence. Ferus seemed surprised by the appearance of the weapon, but he did not allow himself to be distracted. The Sith remained quite still, waiting for Ferus to move.

Ferus lunged forward, his blade flashing dangerously as he orchestrated an attack at lightning speed. It seemed impossible that the dark man would have time to defend him, but with a short twist of his hand, he maneuvered his blade into perfect position to intercept the attack. With another deft move, he was free.

Ferus attacked again, but once more the dark man intercepted the attack. This time, he unleashed a devastating counter that nearly disarmed the Jedi. Ferus staggered backward and his back touched the wall. The dark man twirled his lightsaber almost lazily and waited.

The Jedi sprang forward, chaining together an impressive series of cuts, slashes, and stabs. The dark man's lightsaber picked them all off with ruthless precision, every so often throwing in a slash of his own that sent his adversary tumbling across the room. Blood was rising to Ferus's face and his breathing was growing ragged. It could not be more obvious that for all his strength and technical skill, the Jedi was painfully overmatched. Bel-Iblis watched helplessly, feeling certain that at any moment the dark man would tire of the duel and cut Ferus down.

Unwilling to yield, Ferus sprang into the air, drawing upon his full power in the Force to guide him. Three brutal slashes came close to hitting the darksider, but failed to cause any damage. A fourth slash came within centimeters of the dark man's shrouded face.

Without warning, the Sith delivered a punishing strike that drove Ferus mercilessly to his knees. With contemptuous ease, he kicked the Jedi's weapon out of his hand and forced him down. Lying on his back, Ferus glared defiantly up at his conqueror, who did not even seem to be out of breath. The dark man leveled his blade at Ferus's throat.

"Enough of this," he said coldly. "I have indulged you long enough. You have already lost your freedom and your honor, Ferus. Do not be so foolish as to give up your life as well."

Ferus's eyes blazed. "You know nothing of honor, Sith!"

With incredible quickness he rolled away from the dark man's blade, sprang to his feet and leapt into the air, summoning his lost weapon for a final strike.

The dark man barely moved. His blade came up and intercepted Ferus's last-ditch attack centimeters away from his throat. He shoved out, turning his opponent's momentum against him as he fell. Before the Jedi had even landed, the dark man spun around and extended a gloved hand, delivering a crushing blow with the Force.

Ferus's head snapped back as though he had been hit in the chest with a turbolaser. His body flew through the air like a limp doll and smashed at a terrifying speed through an ornate glass window. The Jedi flew for a good twenty meters out from the building before gravity took hold and his body vanished from sight.

"You double-crossing fiend!" Bel-Iblis roared, lunging forward against his captor's hold. "You said that none of us would be harmed!"

The dark man turned to face the enraged General, his gaze unrelenting. "Your Jedi friend tried to kill me, General. He violated his terms of surrender. Had he not lost sight of what it means to serve the greater good, he would have considered the consequences of his actions."

"You're just like Vader!" Bel-Iblis raged. "You don't care what you have to do or who you have to hurt to get what you want! You don't care about freedom or galactic justice at all. All you're interested in fighting for his your own damn power!"

The dark man approached Bel-Iblis slowly, something dangerous stirring in the depths of his eyes. He seemed to have taken on a new aura, one infused with absolute purpose, as though this man were a messenger of destiny itself.

"Tell me, General," he said coolly. "What would you presume to know about what I'm fighting for?"

The question was so surprising that it took Bel-Iblis off-guard. In spite of his burning anger and oppressive fear, he found himself staring hard into the glacial pools of his adversary's eyes, trying to extract some sense of the man behind the shadows. There was something there, a glint of life that seemed familiar …

Without warning, time stood still. Bel-Iblis's heart stopped beating in his chest. In a terrible flash, he knew whose face lay beneath the mask of darkness, whose eyes, once burning with a determined passion, now stared out at him without warmth or pity. Before he could begin to contemplate the death of hope, however, before he could commit the devastating revelation to memory, an iron fist descended on the back of his skull, sending his plummeting into a vast, inescapable darkness.

The dark man loomed over the still, comatose body of the Rebel commander, his piercing blue eyes lancing through the frozen expression of surprise on the man's face. He knelt down beside the General, and, with a small exertion of power, reached into his mind, gently brushing away the last thought that had formed there. Then he stood up and turned to face the shattered window, golden sunlight dancing across the shadows on his face. With a short gesture, he motioned for the stormtroopers to take Bel-Iblis away.

"I'm sorry, Garm," Anakin Skywalker said quietly, true regret audible in his voice, "But all that you're fighting for is already lost."

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _The Leader is finally revealed. The attack on Coruscant's surface moves forward. On the other side, the Emperor receives the battlefront reports of his two greatest servants and sets in moton his final plan, one which he believes will bring about the ultimate destruction of the Alliance._


	58. A Leader Returns

I finished this post quickly because I really want to get to the climax of this story before I head off to college and am forced to take another extended break from writing. This part of the story might seem a little rushed and confused (I know that's how I feel when I'm writing it) simply because there is so much going on. Rest assured that this will stop once we hit the home stretch, and this story returns once again to the one-on-one character interactions that are its strength.

Thank you for all your comments and observations as usual. I will do individual replies when I have a little more time. For now, it's back to writing. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 58**

"Well," Sabé said bitterly, staring around at the blank, mold-covered walls around them, "This certainly isn't the reception we were hoping for."

Padmé sighed and stretched out her legs, her warm back pressed soothingly against the cold metal of the wall. "I'm sure that there's a reason for this, Sabé. We did show up in their territory with fifty armed men. They probably want to make sure that we aren't part of some elaborate Imperial ruse."

"A ruse?" Sabé echoed. "Padmé, they invited us here! If they haven't figured out by now that we are who we say we are, then something's wrong with them. Maybe this Solo was lying; maybe they don't plan on taking us to the Leader at all."

The two women were sitting in a small underground room that appeared to be a disused storage area. The two men who had captured them, Han Solo and Jodo Kast, had led them here following the ambush in the alley. Solo had assured them that they were not being held prisoner; merely kept in 'isolation' while the 'boss' checked out their story. He had urged them to kick back, relax, and catch up on the gossip, or 'whatever women do to kill the time'. He had then disappeared with a wink and a roguish grin, locking the door securely behind him. Master Yoda, owing to his status as a Jedi, had placed in a separate cell, no doubt under heavy guard. Padmé doubted that any serious harm had befallen the old Jedi Master, but all the same she was worried. Yoda's presence had been like a shield to them, and without it she felt vulnerable.

A long silence fell. Padmé wanted to refute Sabé's claim, but given the amount of time that had passed since Solo's departure, she had to admit that there was a possibility that they had been duped. Maybe their captors were nothing more than a group of roving bandits, or worse, bounty hunters hoping to turn them over to the Empire. Padmé closed her eyes and thought of her children, safe and happy on Naboo with her family. A great longing swept over her. If only she could be there with them now …

"How do you think they're doing?" Sabé asked, her voice interrupting Padmé's reverie.

Padmé opened her eyes and saw that Sabé was looking pointedly up at the ceiling, far beyond which, in the skies above Coruscant, Bail and the rest of their comrades were waging a pitched battle against the Emperor's forces. She was sure that her friends were fighting bravely and holding their own, but she still felt anxious. They were outnumbered, and if the battle groups at Corellia or Kuat managed to elude their forces and jump back to Coruscant, Bail's group would find themselves pinned.

"I'm sure that they're holding up well," she said aloud, more to reassure Sabé than anything else. "But they're facing some heavy odds. I mean, the Empire knew that we were coming."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that," Sabé said heavily. "And if we know anything about Palpatine, it's that he wouldn't be content to just sit back and let us stage an assault on the heart of his government. He's got something planned … I just know it."

Padmé couldn't begin to imagine what sort of horribly twisted trap that Palpatine might have devised for his enemies. The only certainty was that it was certain to involve the brutal, unnecessary deaths of thousands of people. The Emperor would want to make an example of them that would not soon be forgotten.

If there was any chance of averting the calamity, then action would need to be taken, and soon. A direct assault on the Imperial palace by the Leader's forces would certainly distract Palpatine from whatever he was planning. But so far no attack had been staged, the Leader was nowhere to be seen, and Bail, Garm, and Kothla were fighting a losing battle while she and Sabé sat helplessly in this makeshift cell. Once again, Padmé was overcome with heartache. _If only Anakin were here …_

She banished the feeling and filled herself instead with resolution. Anakin was not here. Her beloved husband, her hero, would not be able to save her this time. She needed to take action now if she wanted to aid her friends.

_But how? Think, Padmé, think …_

There. There was an old rusting ventilation grate above their head, wide enough for a human her size to squeeze through. She nudged Sabé and pointed to it. Her friend's eyes widened, then quickly darted about the cell.

"Do you think we're under surveillance?" she mouthed.

Padmé shook her head. "I doubt it. This place wasn't intended to be used as a cell. Give me a boost."

Sabé bent down and allowed Padmé to climb onto her shoulders. The young diplomat reached to her belt and pulled out an array of tools, including a small but extremely sharp knife. From below, Sabé chuckled.

"You really are ready for everything, aren't you?"

Padmé grinned. "Remind me sometime to tell you how Anakin, Obi-Wan, and I escaped from the gladiatorial arena on Geonosis. That'll make this look like nothing. At least there's no hungry nexu here."

Quickly and efficiently, she used the knife to cut away the rusted grate. Using both hands, she pulled herself up into the now-accessible shaft, then reached down and hauled Sabé up. "Come on."

The two women crawled through the shaft for several meters, then stopped to listen. They could hear distant voices, but it sounded as though the passageway below them was clear. They moved to the next grate, and once again Padmé used her knife to cut the metal away. They dropped down into the dimly lit hallway and waited. As expected, no alarms went off and there was no sign of any guards. They appeared to be home free.

"Now what?" Sabé whispered. "Do we make a break for it, or do we go looking for the Leader?"

"We look for the Leader," Padmé said firmly. "That's what we came here for, and at any rate, we can't leave without Master Yoda. Keep your eyes open."

They moved off quickly down the passageway, searching constantly for any signs of life. The tunnel appeared to be an old service corridor, more than likely part of some collapsed building. They passed several doors, many of which were rusted shut. Clearly this place was not usually inhabited. Once or twice, Padmé thought she heard footsteps behind them, but when she looked over her shoulder there was nothing. Her heartbeat quickened, but she forced herself to keep a steady pace. Acting rashly was sure to attract trouble.

After a minute of walking, the two women found themselves at an intersection. Three identical passageways branched off at right angles, none of them looking particularly promising. Sabé turned to her friend. "Now which way?"

"Let's try going left," Padmé suggested. It was a random guess, but that particularly passageway looked a little brighter than the others, which might mean that it was more frequently traveled. They set off once again.

They had walked less than a hundred meters when the passageway ended abruptly in a jumble of large rocks. Cave-in. Dead end.

"It was worth a shot," Sabé said bracingly. "Let's double back."

Padmé nodded, concealing her disappointment. This place was more than likely a labyrinth, with a network of tunnels that stretched for kilometers underground. It could take them hours to find what they were looking for – hours that they did not have.

She and Sabé turned around … and found themselves face to face with two familiar things: the barrel of a DL-44 blaster and a cocky, lopsided grin.

"Hello, ladies," Han Solo said smoothly. "Fancy meeting you here."

Sabé glared hotly at the brash young man, who continued to smile winningly. Padmé found herself torn between frustration and amusement. She knew from his relaxed manner that Solo had no intentions of hurting them, but that didn't mean she intended to lower her guard. "You've been following us?"

"Since the moment you slipped out of your cell," Solo told her, lowered his blaster and placing it in his holster. "That was quite a slick maneuver, sweetheart. I could use that kind of quick thinking on my crew."

"You have your own ship?" Sabé asked incredulously. "Aren't you a little young?"

"Hey, I may be young, but I've got it where it counts," Solo said, winking roguishly at her. "No, I don't have a ship at the moment, but if the boss follows through on his promise, I will soon."

"The boss?" Padmé echoed. "You mean the Leader?"

"That's right," Solo said. "Of course, I don't really give a damn about what he preaches: _the voice of the people shall triumph over tyranny_ … it's all a load of mumbo-jumbo. But hey, I've got no love for the Empire, and if there's a profit to be had, I'm game."

"A profit?" Sabé asked, sounding disgusted. "Not even seventeen, and you're already a soldier-for-hire?"

"Don't judge me, sister," Solo said, his eyes hardening and his voice suddenly cold. "My life is my business. I don't answer to anyone."

Padmé laid a hand on Sabé's arm, indicating that she should let the matter lie. The look in Solo's eyes told her that he had led a rough life and seen many things that someone so young should not have had to endure.

"What are you going to do with us?" she asked him. "Return us to our cell?"

"No," the young man said, the bitter look vanishing from his face as he turned to look at Padmé. "No, the Leader just called in: he wants to see you right away. I was actually just coming down the hall to get you out of your room, but you beat me to the punch."

Padmé's heartbeat quickened again. "So you're going to take us to him?"

"That's the plan, sweetheart" Solo answered, his cockiness returning the form of another lopsided grin. "Follow me."

* * *

Solo led them through the maze of corridors to a large, underground chamber that resembled a situation room. A variety of displays and monitors were visible around the perimeter and in the center of the room, some of them showing what appeared to be the schematics for several important buildings. With a jolt, Padmé recognized the Senate Chamber, a large military base, and the Imperial Palace. A few people bustled back and forth between these displays, obviously making last-minute preparations.

Master Yoda was already there, surrounded by ten armed soldiers and Jodo Kast. Kast's cold gaze swept over the two women, and Padmé repressed a shiver. Something about the man made her decidedly ill at ease. She wished that she could see his face.

"Hey, Han, old buddy!" called a smooth voice from over by one of the tactical displays. The speaker was a handsome young man with dark brown skin, a winning smile, and a decidedly flamboyant sense of dress. The cloak he wore was made of silky smooth material and was far too big for him, but the young man wore it like a king. He strode over and clapped Solo on the shoulder. "I can't believe it. The boss put you on escort duty?"

"Take it easy, Lando," Han retorted. "It's not every day that a guy gets to show two beautiful women around."

"Fair point," Lando admitted, his dark brown eyes sweeping over Padmé and Sabé. He bowed, took Padmé's hand, and planted a chivalrous kiss upon it. "Welcome to our humble abode, My Lady Amidala. My name is Lando Calrissian and I am at your service."

"All right, that's enough," Han snapped, sounded both irritated and amused. He turned to Padmé. "Lando's been living the high life for so long that he thinks he's irresistible to women."

"Thinks?" Lando echoed, winking charmingly at Sabé. "As the ladies will tell you, I _am_ irresistible."

"Come on," Han rolled his eyes, motioning Padmé and Sabé to follow him. "The Leader's this way."

He led them past the still-grinning Lando towards a large door at the end of the situation room. Jodo and Yoda followed, the former's deadly blaster rifle pointing directly at Jedi Master's skull. Han typed a code into the panel beside the door, then stood aside as it ominously slid open, leading into a dark chamber. He motioned for Padmé and Sabé to enter. "Go on in. He wants a private audience."

The two women stepped through the door into the darkness. Master Yoda followed them. Jodo Kast did not accompany the Jedi Master, but he did not lower his blaster rifle until the durasteel slid shut with a loud clang.

The moment the doors closed, a dim light flickered to life, and the three Rebels found themselves in a large, barren chamber. It was oddly reminiscent of a throne room, but there was no sense of grandeur at all. No paintings or carvings covered the walls and the floor was made of cold, dusty duracrete. The high, arcing ceiling was obscured in shadows cast by the sparse lighting fixtures, which hung in their brackets like ancient torches. There were no chairs, benches or other accommodations that invited them to take their ease. At first glance, the room appeared to be little more than a glorified prison cell. Yet there was a kind of majesty in it, an echo of some great power infused in its walls. One got the sense that those who entered the room were expected to do so with reverence, displaying humility before some unknown master. As Padmé, Sabé, and Yoda entered further into the room, the shadows before them began to disperse and they saw that the walls curved, sloping inwards with mounting finality to a central point.

And there, standing before a large throne-like chair at the apex of the chamber was a man who could only be the Leader himself.

Padmé's breath instinctively caught in her throat. She had heard the rumors speak of the Leader as an imposing figure, but even then she had not expected the mastermind of the underground resistance to the Emperor to have such a god-like presence. He stood nearly two meters tall and had a powerfully built figure that was evident even from a distance. He wore a robe of pure black that hung upon his frame like a mantle, adding to his majesty. The man's face was hidden not only by a hood, but by what seemed to be pure shadows that settled over his face like a living mask. Padmé's thoughts unwillingly flashed back to Darth Vader, who had concealed himself in a similar manner before his duel with Anakin on Mustafar. Could the Leader possibly be a Dark Jedi, or worse, a Sith?

Padmé glanced over at Yoda, and his grave look confirmed her suspicions: the Leader was exerting a powerful pull upon the Force. Padmé could feel it too, though in a much less distinct manner. It was as though the man before her stood upon a pedestal that carried him above the mortal plane, and this duality between humanity and divinity created a swirling vortex of which he was the center. He seemed unreachable, untouchable … invincible.

She stared directly into the Leader's eyes, the only part of his face that was visible, and found herself hypnotized by the dark fire that danced there, a burning, determined passion that lanced right through her. She felt as though her very soul was being laid open before those eyes, and hurriedly she sought to close off the connection. She did not want the Leader to gain power over her. Enemy of the Emperor or not, she was still not sure if he could be trusted.

"Welcome, my friends." The Leader's voice was deep and seemed to echo throughout the room, filling the entire chamber with its rich tones. "It is my honor to have you here."

From the way, Sabé was looking at her, Padmé took it that she was to be the spokeswoman. She took half a step towards the imposing figure, trying to present herself as calm and diplomatic, a habit which she easily fell into. Unsure how best to address this god-like man, she opted for the extremely formal. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is our honor to be here."

The Leader laughed, a rumbling sound that seemed to shake the walls. "Please, do not address me so formally. I am not royalty. I am merely the voice of the people."

Padmé relaxed ever so slightly. "How would you like to be addressed, then?"

"The Leader should do. It has sufficed for the people, and therefore it is sufficient for me."

Padmé was disappointed; she had been hoping that the Leader would give her some clue as to his real identity. It was hard enough to talk to a man who refused to show his face without being denied a proper name as well.

"You seem uncomfortable," the Leader announced, his sharp eyes softening slightly. The power behind the gaze, however, did not abate. "I apologize for that. The aura which I have assumed to carry my people's strength has become a part of me, and is not easily set aside."

Padmé didn't know what to say to that. The Leader seemed to think of himself as she did; a spokesman for those who followed him rather than a General driving them forward. She had not been expecting this, and her curiosity about this powerful and mysterious being grew even stronger.

"We have come because you called us," she continued, pressing ahead with their overall purpose. "We are here to help you make a crucial strike against the Empire."

"Yes, I have been monitoring the progress of your fleet," said the Leader. "They face strong resistance, but they are determined. I believe that our victory is an achievable end."

Padmé was very glad to hear that Bail was still alive and fighting, but she knew that that was only half the battle. "Our friends will fight to their last breath for our cause, Leader, but our victory depends on the success of your mission."

"A responsibility which I do not take lightly," the Leader said gravely. "The pieces are already in motion. Within an hour, my forces will strike at the strongest holds of Palpatine's power, including the Imperial Palace itself. If all goes well, Palpatine will be overthrown."

"You seem very confident," Padmé said guardedly.

"I am confident," the Leader answered. "I have chosen to trust my instincts, which tell me that this is the right course of action."

"You are placing the fate of many people's lives on your _instincts_, Leader," Sabé broke in. "I hope, for their sake, that they are not wrong."

"My life shall go before them," the Leader said quietly. "Those in positions of power have a sacred responsibility to protect those who place their trust in them. It is a lesson that I learned through great pain … long ago."

Padmé was struck by the Leader's sudden, deep humility. In that one moment, his god-like demeanor had lessened and he seemed more human, more reachable than ever before.

"Lost much, you have," Yoda observed seriously. The Leader turned his fiery gaze to Yoda, who met it evenly with sharp green eyes. "Changed you, it has. A new understanding, you have gained, of your place in this galaxy."

It seemed to Padmé that Yoda had gained an understanding of the situation that she and Sabé had not. She tried to catch the Jedi Master's eye, but Yoda was still looking determinedly at the Leader, who had drawn a step closer.

"Indeed I have lost much," the Leader answered, a hidden darkness weaving its way into his words. "Many comrades, many friends, and a world of illusions. It has not been easy. Sometimes, however, pain opens our eyes to what is truly important." The Leader returned his piercing gaze to Padmé. "I was very sorry to hear of the loss of your husband, Councilor. From what I understand, he made a great sacrifice, one which allowed you and many others to live."

Padmé's heart skipped a beat. "How do you know about what happened to Anakin?"

"I have my sources," the Leader told her. "I knew him once, Councilor, years ago. He was a brave warrior … and a good man."

Padmé's thoughts moved at a thousand kilometers per second. Anakin had never mentioned having contact with the Leader, and she knew with utter certainty that he would not have concealed information of that importance from her. The only possible explanation she could find was that Anakin had known this man before he had become the Leader. Could he have somehow reestablished contact?

"Do you know anything else about what happened to him?" she pressed, her passion to know the truth now burning feverishly inside of her. "Have you had any contact with him?"

"I'm sorry, Councilor," the Leader said, a hint of regret audible in his great voice. "He has passed beyond my sight."

There was a finality in the Leader's tone that told Padmé that he was telling the truth. Sabé laid a gentle hand on Padmé's arm, no doubt perceiving her friend's disappointment and renewed grief. The young woman, however, refused to allow herself to go to pieces once more over the loss of hope. The lives of many of her friends depended on her ability to keep a clear head, and she would not let them down.

The Leader seemed to sense what Padmé was thinking. He strode towards them, his dark cloak swirling about him as though caught in a wind. "Come. The hour of our attack approaches. We have many things to do before our time arrives, and your expertise will be needed, Councilor."

"Where are our friends?" Sabé demanded suddenly.

"Your soldiers have been brought to our headquarters," the Leader answered smoothly. "They have been well-treated. My lieutenants tell me that they are assisting my forces in the preparations for the attack."

He began to stride towards the door. Before he could glide past them, however, Padmé took a step to the side, blocking his path.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Padmé!" Sabé gasped. "I don't think this is the best time …"

"Your friend is right," the Leader said. Cold authority had returned to his voice, and his eyes darkened. "Now is not the time for such questions."

Padmé held her ground. Part of her couldn't believe what she was doing, but that side of her was ruthlessly silenced by her bolder nature. Her burning need to know the truth had suddenly become a full-scale inferno, one which would not abate until her desire for answers was sated. She was tired of lies, secrecy, and partial truths: not knowing had become a torture to her soul. This man who called himself the Leader might not know what had happened to Anakin, but he held important answers that Padmé knew were critical to the success of their mission, and potentially the freedom of the galaxy itself.

"I am not helping you with this attack," she said firmly, "until you tell me what I want to know. My friends and I have come here at your request, and we have been completely open and honest with you. We expect the same courtesy in return. I refuse to place the lives of people I love in your hands until I know, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that I can trust you."

The Leader's carried a terrifying power, but Padmé met his gaze will unbreakable resolve. She refused to blink, she refused to show any sign of weakness. She knew that even if this man was above the limits of mortality, she would not yield. Eventually, he would break.

Without warning, the terrible fire left the Leader's dark eyes. He seemed to descend until the two of them stood on a completely level field. From beneath the depths of the shadows, Padmé thought she heard a sigh.

"You always were direct, Padmé," he said heavily. His voice was lowered to the level of a normal human's now, and it was somehow familiar. "I admire that in you."

The Leader reached up and slowly pulled off his hood. As he did so, the mask of shadows obscuring his face melted away. Padmé's heart froze in shock and beside her, she heard Sabé gasp.

The face that was now revealed was one she knew well. For many years she had seen it as a marker of honesty and dedication amid an otherwise faceless sea of intrigue and corruption. The face that she now beheld belonged to a man whom she and the rest of the galaxy had long believed lost, a man who had bravely sacrificed himself to save the lives of countless others, a man who with the unquenchable spirit of a warrior had stood as the last surviving light against an onrushing tide of darkness.

"_Master Windu?_"

The Jedi Master had changed in the five years since Padmé had seen him last. He looked older and slightly worn, as if he were bearing the cares of thousands of people upon his shoulders. His dark brown skin was now crossed by several scars, including a long, jagged wound that ran from his right cheek all the way down his neck. But his dark eyes still shone with the brightness of an unshakeable passion and the wisdom of many years of experience in service of the will of the Force. Even as the young woman stared at him in complete astonishment, Mace stretched his scarred lips into a kind, tired smile.

"Hello, Padmé."

Padmé blinked twice, trying to assure herself that she was not hallucinating. Unable to deny that the image in front of her eyes was, in fact, real, she tried to force herself to speak. Nothing came out. She open and closed her mouth several times before she finally managed to speak.

"But you're …. We all thought that you were …"

"Dead?" Mace finished her sentence, his smile widening. There was something slightly awkward about it, as though the expression had not been used in a long time. "For all intents and purposes, Padmé, I _was_ dead. Following my failed attempt upon the Emperor's life, I allowed my name and face to vanish from the galaxy. In order to survive, I surrendered my identity and took up the mantle of the Leader. Over time …" he swept his hands over his cloak, "the voice of the people took over, and even the memory of Jedi Master Mace Windu was lost."

"So you … you escaped the Senate Chamber?" Padmé stammered, still struggling with disbelief. "All these years, you've been underground … working to undermine the foundations of the Empire?"

"An admirably succinct summary," Mace said, running a hand over his shaven skull. There was another long scar there. "There is more to the story of course … many narrow escapes, many sleepless nights alone in the darkness … a trip to the very edge of death itself. However, such stories are for another time, if indeed such a time ever comes. For now, the important thing is that I have your trust, however undeserving I may think myself of that honor. Do you think that we can work together, Councilor?"

Padmé nodded, finding herself at a momentary loss for words. Of course she could trust him … this was a man who had dedicated his entire life to the cause of freedom and justice in the galaxy, a man who had saved her life on more than one occasion. It was just so hard to believe that he was, in fact, alive …

A relieved look passed over Mace's face. "Thank you. Then there is hope yet. It is good to see you again, Padmé. And you as well, Sabé."

Padmé looked over at Master Yoda, who did not appear to be nearly as shocked as she and Sabé were. Something clicked in her mind, and she looked over at him. "You knew, didn't you?"

The Jedi Master huffed indignantly. "Hmmph. Knew, I did not. Have my suspicions, I did. Believed, I did not, that neglect to visit me Master Windu would, if become one with the Force, he had."

Mace chuckled and knelt down to Yoda's level. "I'm truly sorry, old friend. With Coruscant becoming the cradle of his Empire, Palpatine would have discovered any attempt I made to reach out and sought to use me against you. You were all safer if you believed that I was dead."

Yoda reached out with his cane and jabbed his old colleague in the chest – hard. "Owe me an explanation, you do not, Master Windu. The will of the Force, it was, that your fate, this should be."

Mace smiled ruefully. "Time has changed many things, but not you, Master. You still know me better than I know myself."

He stood up and replaced his hood, donning the mantle of the Leader once more. When he spoke again, his voice once again filled with the might of thousands.

"Come. Time is short."

He swept past Padmé and the others, heading for the door. Padmé and Sabé shared a meaningful look, then followed, Yoda limping along behind them.

* * *

Emperor Palpatine leaned back in his throne, dark satisfaction pervading the Force around him. Despite the fact that a raging battle was taking place in the skies above his capital, he was not concerned. The Rebel fools might be determined, but they would not succeed. Coruscant was too well-defended, his forces were too strong, and soon all semblance of resistance would crumble into dust.

Before him, two life-sized holographic images flickered into existence: his two greatest servants were ready to give their reports. Palpatine's orange eyes glowed with eager anticipation as he leaned forward, his pale, gnarled hands clutching the arms of his throne. "Well?"

"The Rebel forces at Kuat are dispersing, My Master," Darth Vader told him, no hint of emotion in his mechanically-altered tone. "Tral'fey was not prepared for so much resistance. His command ship holds fast, but with every passing moment more of his allies either desert or are destroyed."

"That is to be expected," Palpatine said approvingly. "The Bothan may profess to honor, but sooner or later he will recognize that the cost of his poorly-executed feint is too high. You have done well, Lord Vader."

Vader inclined his head, but gave no further acknowledgement. The Emperor turned his attention to his newest apprentice. "And you, Lord Skywalker? How go our interests at Corellia?"

"Bel-Iblis is finished," Anakin told him. His voice was every bit as flat and emotionless as Vader's. "He walked directly into our trap, and his forces were subsequently routed. The surviving prisoners have been taken to detention camps on the planet's surface."

"Excellent," Palpatine cackled, his mood improving by the moment. "I commend you both. Thanks to your efforts, the pitiful fools comprising the Rebellion are now on the brink."

Vader remained perfectly still, his soulless mask staring directly at the Emperor's mutilated face. Something flickered in the depths of Anakin's searing blue eyes, but he too remained silent.

"Your work is now done," Palpatine informed them. "You will both return to Imperial Center. You are already en route, are you not?"

"I have arrived in system, My Master," Vader informed him. "I shall be landing on the surface momentarily."

"Good. Come straight to the Imperial Palace; there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you. How long will you be, Lord Skywalker?"

"I shall arrive within two hours of Lord Vader, Master."

"Splendid," Palpatine leaned back in his throne once more, an almost benevolent smile forming on his lips. "My servants, this is a great day for the Empire. The Force tells me that when we meet again, it shall be to celebrate our victory."

Anakin and Vader bowed, and Palpatine waved a careless hand at them. "You are dismissed."

The holoprojectors flickered, and his apprentices vanished.

The moment they had disappeared, Palpatine's smile was replaced with a cold leer. It was as he suspected. Lord Vader was attempting to twist Anakin against him, no doubt in order to seize the throne for himself. He would have to act before then if he wanted to secure his position. He had no intention of allowing his victory to be sullied by dying at the hands of his apprentice.

First, however, there was a more imminent threat to deal with: that of the Rebellion. The wings of their attack had been smashed and the head would soon follow, but that was not enough for Palpatine. He needed to destroy the heart of his opposition, and he needed to do so in a manner that would shock the rest of the galaxy with its brutality and cast such a powerful shadow of fear that no one would ever dream of defying his will again.

There was only one way to accomplish such an end.

Palpatine activated the holoprojector again, quickly establishing the desired connection. Within moments, the full-sized image of a rigid, gaunt man rose up before him. The man stared at the master of the galaxy with cold, sunken eyes, his face a mask of hard-set cruelty.

"Moff Tarkin," the Emperor said deliberately. "Are all your preparations complete?"

Tarkin bowed deeply. "They are, My Lord."

"The Rebels are not alert to our presence?"

Tarkin smiled gave a thin smile, the long, dark scar on his left cheek contorting hideously. "They are completely ignorant, My Lord."

Palpatine's malicious orange eyes hardened, and unrestrained fury filled their depths.

"Then alert all commands … and set your course for Alderaan."

Tarkin's cold grey eyes flashed with the imminent pleasure of murder.

"My Lord … with pleasure!"

His image flickered out. Palpatine continued to stare at the place where his face had been, the pure, savage hatred that had filled him cascading through his blood like a river of fire.

_Fools. Pitiful, helpless, insignificant fools._

He had been tolerant of their meddling antics for too long. He had allowed them to be a stain upon the face of his glorious regime for too long. That time was at an end. Through their relentless refusal to accept their insignificance before him, the Rebels had signed their own death warrant. Now, their utter and complete annihilation was all but assured. Billions would die … and he would glory in their suffering.

There was one more matter to attend to, before he could turn his attention to the far more significant danger posed by his once-loyal apprentice, Lord Vader. That matter was the uprising was occurring right beneath his feet, under the twisted guidance of the man who called himself the Leader. The Emperor activated his holoprojector again, manipulating several controls to ensure with absolute certainty that he was on a secure channel. He had invested considerable time … and paid a small fortune … to ensure that this crucial asset was perfectly placed. He had no intention, now he had the throat of his old enemy within his grasp, of allowing him to slip away once more.

* * *

Mace led Padmé, Sabé, and Yoda back into the situation room, which was now full people who were assembled, waiting for them. Han was lounging against the side of the door, talking casually with Lando and a large Wookiee wearing an armed bandolier and carrying a crossbow. Seeing Padmé and the others, the group broke off their conversation. When the Wookiee's eyes fell upon Master Yoda, he let out a roar that sounded to Padmé like a joyful greeting.

"Glad to see you, I am, Chewbacca," Yoda said warmly. "Forget you I did not."

"How'd it go in there, sweetheart?" Han called out to Padmé. "You get a little faint, want to fall down on your knees and pray? The boss has that affect on some people."

Padmé smiled knowingly. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"That you are." Han winked and turned his gaze to the Leader. "Hey bossman, is my ride all set?"

"Your ship is fueled and ready for departure," Mace informed him. "Best of luck to you, Han."

"What?" Sabé exclaimed, looking at the young man in surprise. "You're not going to stay and fight?"

"Like I told you, sister, this isn't my war," Han told her. "Besides, as you said, aren't I a little young to be a soldier-for-hire?"

"Han has my permission to leave," Mace informed them. "I have foreseen that his mark on this conflict will be made elsewhere."

"Don't count on it," Han said brashly. "I intend on getting as far away from this madhouse as I can. You heroes can have your fun."

Padmé opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. As appalling as she found it, she had to accept that there were individuals in the galaxy who cared for no one but themselves.

Mace nodded to him, and with a final lopsided grin at Padmé, Han disappeared through a nearby door.

Mace turned to face the assembled lieutenants, who were waiting for him silently. "You know what to do. The time has come for you to take back what belongs to you by right. Go now, and may the Force be with you!"

A great cheer went up from the lieutenants, who quickly began moving about, gathering up weapons and making preparations to leave. Mace turned to Padmé, his face once more shrouded in darkness. "You will be coming with me. I will lead the assault on the Imperial Palace while other groups strike the Senate Chamber and the Operational Headquarters for the Imperial Army."

"You intend to stage three major assaults simultaneously?" Padmé asked hesitantly "What kind of forces do you have at your command?"

"A hundred thousand strong."

"_A hundred thousand_?" Sabé gasped.

Mace turned his fiery gaze to Padmé. "Are you ready to lead an army, Councilor?"

Padmé felt as though the breath had been stolen from her. A hundred thousand would give them a force to rival the previously unmatched strength of the Imperial Army. Against her better judgment, she found herself caught up in the moment. She thought of her children, what victory would means for both them and the galaxy, and an incredible strength filled her. For the first time, their dream did not seem so impossible after all.

"I'm ready," she said, her voice ringing out strong and clear. "Tell us what to do."

Mace nodded in approval, his eyes alive with determined passion "This is our time, Padmé. We carry the hopes of a free galaxy with us. With their strength and their will, we will not fail."

* * *

Amidst all the revelry and the triumphant battle roars of the vengeful army which seemed to shake the core of Coruscant itself, no one noticed one man slip away from the group of figures who were gathered in the situation room, watching spellbound as the Leader gave his speech. Silent as a shadow, the man ducked out of the door leading back into the corridor and hurried along a short array of passageways that brought him back to a darkened supply room. Once there, the man sealed the door behind him and locked it securely, ensuring that he would not be disturbed. Then he crossed over to the center of the room and pulled out his comlink, which was buzzing slightly. The man flicked the activation switch, and a small holographic image of Emperor Palpatine's ravaged face appeared, hovering over the display.

"They move to attack as planned?" the Emperor hissed, his voice a strangled whisper.

Jodo Kast met the Emperor's burning gaze evenly with his cold, ruthless eyes. "The mob is getting itself whipped up into a frenzy. It won't be long before the deluded prophet turns them loose."

"They still intend to stage an assault the Imperial Palace?"

"They will attack other locations as well, but the Palace is their main goal. The Leader intends to lead that front himself, and I will be right there with him."

"We shall be ready for them," the Emperor said coldly. "I intend to see to it that Windu does not slip away from me this time."

Jodo's eyes became frozen pools of ice. "Windu is mine. That was our agreement."

"I have not forgotten," the Emperor hissed, a murderous eagerness in his tone. "I know that you have a personal interest in the matter. Just make sure that they do not suspect anything until it is too late. Once you have lured them into our trap, kill them all."

Jodo smiled thinly behind the scarf concealing his face. "I have been waiting for this day for eight years, My Lord. I will not fail."

"I am counting on that," the Emperor said harshly. "The funds we agreed upon will be transferred to your preferred account upon your successful completion of the assignment. You come highly recommended, my friend. If you do this job well, then I foresee that we shall have a profitable business relationship in the years to come."

Jodo nodded. "I look forward to it."

The communication ended, and the image of the Emperor disappeared. Jodo clipped the comlink back onto his belt, then ran his hand over the smooth metal handle of his blaster, a blaster which had been his father's long ago.

This was a business. You had to look after yourself, and after this job was done there would be many others, which he would not take nearly as much pleasure in fulfilling. His father had taught him that in order to survive, one had to be detached, practical, and eternally focused. He had taken that lesson to heart, just as his father had taken it to his grave. All the same, he had never been able to rid himself of the deeply abiding anger that lodged in his soul whenever he thought of his father's murderer, or the inner rush of satisfaction that flooded him whenever he visualized pressing the cold metal of his blaster to the man's temple and pulling the trigger. He had had many opportunities to commit the desired murder before now, but there was nothing wrong with holding off until he knew that he could turn a profit as well.

_After all_, Boba Fett, thought to himself, _everything has its price. Even revenge._

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _The Leader's army launches its full scale assault to take back Coruscant, but the Emperor has laid a trap for them which they may not be able to escape. Darth Vader confronts an old enemy and finds himself in a dangerous situation that he must defuse if his plans to destroy his master are to succeed._


	59. Standoff

To all my _very_ patient readers:

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for the extremely long break I have taken from this story. I knew that once I got to college I would have almost no time to write, but I never expected to be this busy. As summer wound down, I had been worried that this was going to happen, so I tried to hurry up and churn out as much as I could before leaving. I did my best, but then I got caught up in making other preparations and completely forgot to leave you with a warning of my departure. Once I got to campus, I promptly signed up for too many classes and found myself scrambling for even the smallest amounts of time. I needed to prioritize, and ultimately this story was placed on the back burner for three months. You as readers deserve better than that, and I apologize.

I have finally managed to finish Chapter 59, which I had written about two thirds of before I had to leave. I tried to pick up right where I left off, and I hope I did a decent job of that, though obviously three months of rust doesn't come off easily. Please feel free to point out any inconsistencies that you notice, as in my rush to get the chapter done I may have overlooked a few things.

So get an idea of where things stand, let me try to lay out an outline for you. Counting this installment, there are **eight** chapters left in this story. I have outlined them all, so I have a definite conclusion towards which I am headed: it's just a matter of finding time to write. To that end, I have the remainder of Thanksgiving Break (it's unlikely I'll get a chapter done in that time, but I'll try). Then I go back to school for three weeks before an extended winter break starting in mid-December. It will be my goal to finish the story over that break, so that I don't have to leave you with another months-long cliff hanger. If I don't, then I hope you will continue to be patient. I am committed to finishing this story; unfortunately, real life obligation have to come first.

On that note, I hope you enjoy the next chapter! As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated and I sincerely hope I have not lost too many readers with my criminally infrequent updates. Happy Thanksgiving to all!

All the best,

**Darth Vastor**

* * *

**Chapter 59**

"_This_ is your new ship?" Lando Calrissian exclaimed, his eyes widening as his gaze swept over the battered hull. "What a piece of junk!"

Han scowled. "Knock it off, Lando. She may not look like much …"

"But she's got it where it counts, right?" Lando finished, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Han, old buddy, you can't really believe that this bucket is going to get you more than a few parsecs before it falls apart."

The two young men were standing in a shabby, makeshift hanger that was really an abandoned military warehouse with a collapsed wall at the far-end. A variety of craft were stationed there, ranging from decaying cargo ships that were in the process of being stripped for parts to an array of salvaged and stolen starfighters, most notably four sleek, recently-captured TIE Fighters and a prototype X-Wing. The vessel that Han and Lando were examining was an old, disc-shaped YT-1300 freighter, about twenty-five meters long. The white hull was raked with carbon scoring and other damage apparently caused by a variety of space debris. Several external components had been freshly welded, suggesting that the craft had recently undergone a massive overhaul. It could be argued that the vessel had earned its place in the scrap yard before the start of the Clone Wars, and compared to the newer craft that stood beside it, the ship looked positively obsolete.

To Han, however, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He approached it reverently, ignoring another critical comment from Lando about the ship's appearance. The young man reached out with a shaking hand and placed his hand upon the battered hull. It felt warm to his touch and Han could have sworn that he felt a spark pass between him and the ship, almost as if she recognized that she now belonged to him, and he to her.

"Hey, old girl," he said softly, feeling certain for one foolish moment that the ship could hear him. "You're really something, aren't you?"

"Are you talking to the ship?" Lando asked in disbelief. "I already know that you're crazy, Han; there's no need to validate it."

Han turned back to his friend, choosing once again to ignore the jibe. "This ship's got a pulse," he said wondrously. "It's like she knows who I am!"

Han looked over by the open entrance ramp and saw a mechanic making what appeared to be a last minute repair to the outer fuselage. He made his way over. "Has this ship been fueled and prepped for takeoff?"

The mechanic wiped his sweaty face with a rag and stood up, tossing aside an oily hydrospanner and a fusioncutter. "For what it's worth. This ship doesn't figure for a long life. If you're lucky, it'll get you out of the atmosphere long enough to get a good glimpse at the stars before the Imperials blow you out of the sky."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Han snorted, examining the freshly repaired coolant lines leading to the sublight drives. He knew a bit about star ships, and those coolant lines looked to be of a much higher caliber than a freighter this size ought to have. "What can you tell me about her? Anything special I should know?"

"Not much," the mechanic shrugged. "From what I gather, she was picked off an impound lot after whatever pirate stole her was arrested and hauled off to Kessel. She was scheduled to be condemned, but apparently there were special considerations that kept her hanging in there until we got a hold of her. There are rumors … rumors, mind you … that's she's been extensively modified, maybe even illegally modified. If she is, then she doesn't give up her secrets easily. Most stubborn pile of bolts I've ever worked on."

Han felt a rush of anticipation sweep through him. He had suspected that there was more to this ship than met the eye, and the mechanic's vague allusions seemed to confirm his feeling. He could hardly wait to get behind the controls and she what the old bird could do. If she would give up her secrets to anyone, he felt sure that it would be him.

"Well, I'm glad it's not my neck that's on the line," the mechanic said carelessly, swinging a dirty rag over his shoulder, gathering up his tools, and striding off. "Good luck … though I have a feeling that you'll be needing more than that."

"Hey!" Han called after him. "Does she have a name?"

The mechanic paused briefly and looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said. "_The Millennium Falcon_."

The Millennium Falcon. The name rolled off Han's tongue so smoothly that he felt certain that it was meant to be. From the moment he had seen the ship he had likened it to an old bird, and now he found out that in fact, it was. His bird. The Falcon.

"Illegally modified," Lando whistled, examining the ship with a newfound respect. "You know, there's a real market for black market components these days. If we strip this baby down …"

"Hey!" Han snapped, pointing an angry finger at Lando. "You suggest selling her for parts, I'm leaving you behind."

"Take it easy, Han," Lando said, looking slightly alarmed by the ferocity of Han's defense of the ship. "I wasn't suggesting selling her for parts. I was saying that if we figure out how she works, we could make a few upgrades, and earn a little cash on the side too."

"I'll have the final say-so on that," Han said firmly. "Besides, wouldn't you be worried about your image? Dealing in black market goods is hardly the sort of thing a respectable businessman would do, right?"

"Me, respectable?" Lando gasped, sounding vaguely appalled by the notion. "Never!"

Han rolled his eyes. As irritating as Lando could be at times, he had to admit that with him, you were never likely to find yourself wanting for entertainment. Like Han himself, the young Sacorrian had a talent for attracting trouble.

"So it's going to be the two of us, then?"

"Actually," Lando said casually, pointing across the hanger. "You might want to make that three."

Han looked in the direction Lando had indicated. Striding towards them across the hanger was the towering, familiar figure of a Wookiee. Han let out a small sigh. He thought that he had already made this clear, but apparently the furball needed further convincing.

The Wookiee stopped two meters away from Han and stared down at him with fierce, intelligent eyes. _You weren't planning on leaving without me_? he growled dangerously.

"C'mon Chewie," Han said, exasperation filling his voice. "I've already told you, I don't need your life debt. I can take care of myself."

_It is not a question of your abilities as a fighter_, Chewbacca answered. _A life debt is a sacred commitment. I am bound to stand by your side._

"Look, it wasn't a big deal!" Han exclaimed. "All I did was beat up the guy torturing you and help you get out of the base unscathed. Anybody could have done it!"

_Possibly_, the Wookie told him. _But anybody did not do it, Han. You did. You risked your own life to save me, and now I will do the same for you._

"I don't need saving," Han argued. "I'm not a good guy, Chewie. I do whatever I have to in order to get by, even if it means crossing over to the wrong side of the law. I know your people put a lot on honor, Chewie. You think you'll be able to live with the stuff you'll have to do?"

_There is no greater honor in my society than fulfilling one's life debt_, Chewbacca growled gravely. _I will follow you, Han Solo, wherever you go._

"This is just my opinion, Han," Lando interjected, sounding vaguely nervous, "but I think we should let him come. I mean, an angry Wookiee is not something I'd like to have to deal with."

A wolfish grin rose onto Chewbacca's mouth. _Your friend talks sense, Han_

"All right, all right!" Han conceded, frustrated yet amused at the same time. "Get on board. I assume you know how to fly?"

Chewbacca inclined his head. _I am proficient._

"Good," Han said. "Be ready to take the co-pilot's chair. If Lando screws up …"

"Hey!" Lando exclaimed, glaring at Han indignantly. "I'm just as good a pilot as you, Solo. Maybe you should take the backseat."

The lopsided grin rose onto Han's face again. "Hey, it's my ship, right? Think of it as a favor that I'm even letting you on board. Now, I'd rather not hang around here while all hell breaks loose, so if you'll all kindly get on, we'll get out of here."

Lando rolled his eyes and muttered a choice comment under his breath, but he swept up the boarding ramp nonetheless. Chewbacca followed, and with another grin Han bounded up the ramp and sealed it behind him.

The young Corellian made his way through the ship's dusty corridors to the pliot's compartment, which was situated on the front-right side of the craft. Lando had already taken the co-pilot's seat, with Chewie situated behind him in the navigator's chair. Han slid eagerly into the pilot's chair and ran his hands over the controls. They seemed to slide easily into his hands, molding perfectly to his grasp. He instinctively knew where all the switches were and how to use them. He began the start-up sequence and after a short period of sputtering and choking, the ship came smoothly to life. It rose of the ground like a feather, perfectly balanced, waiting for him to guide it forward.

Han smiled and drank in the exhilaration that had flooded his entire body. In a transition so smooth he had barely noticed it, the ship had become a part of him.

"So?" Lando's voice startled him out of his blissful reverie. "Where to?"

Han thought about it for a minute. "I'd love to get to the Outer Rim, away from all this. But trying to plot a jump that big while breaking through a space battle probably isn't the smartest idea. Let's make a short jump first, to a Core world that isn't under siege. Then we can decide where to go from there."

"Alderaan would be a good place to jump to," Lando suggested. "It's close, and you know that we won't run into trouble there."

Chewie woofed an affirmative and Han nodded in agreement. "Alderaan it is, then."

He pushed forward on the throttle and the _Falcon_ shot forward, accelerating to an amazing speed. Han let out a whoop as they soared out of the hanger and rocketed up into the dimming Courscant sky. The sun was setting over the vast array of skyscrapers, reflecting its brilliant, blinding light in every direction. The _Falcon_ outstripped the light, however, shooting up through the sky like a rising star. Within a matter of moments the craft had cleared the stratosphere and was soaring towards the planetary shield, beyond which the Rebel and Imperial ships clashed like fireworks against the backdrop of stars.

"Han, you do know that the shield's still up?" Lando shouted anxiously.

"No worries!" Han exclaimed, his voice ringing with eagerness. "Just give me an opening, and I'll put us through!"

It was as if some spirit of chance had been listening. At that precise moment, a Rebel starship, its shields overloaded and its hull aflame, crashed into the planetary defense shield. The disruption tore a hole in the shield for only seconds, but that was enough. Han deftly guided the _Falcon_ through the opening and suddenly they were in open space, surrounded on all sides by furiously battling warships.

Han laughed and turned to Lando and Chewie, both of whom looked impressed despite themselves. "What did I tell you, huh?"

"Good job, old buddy!" Lando exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the massive prow of the Star Destroyer that was looming down upon them. "Now, how about you get us the hell out of here?"

"Chewie!" Han shouted. "Plot the jump!"

The Wookiee fired up the navicomputer and began to make the necessary calculations while Han weaved in and out of the lines of fire. Once or twice a starfighter fell into pursuit behind them, but the _Falcon_ moved so fast that they left their pursuers far behind. Han was amazed by the pure speed that the ship possessed, to say nothing of its maneuvering capabilities. This was the ship of his dreams.

Chewbacca barked out an affirmation of readiness. "Coordinates are set!" Lando exclaimed. "Let her rip!"

Han aimed the ship's prow in the desired direction and pulled the hyperdrive lever. The stars condensed into infinite lines, and the _Millennium Falcon_ and her crew shot forward into vast realm of hyperspace, free at last.

* * *

Coruscant were no stranger to chaos. With a population of over one trillion sentient beings, the streets of the galactic capital were always in some degree or another embroiled in turmoil. Since the Empire had come to power, however, the madness had been curbed slightly, and the installment of a curfew enforced by regular military patrols had reduced infractions of the peace to a fraction of their prior levels. All in all, the planet had been subdued, like thousands of other worlds, to comply with the Empire's vision of 'peace'.

That peace had now been shattered. In the streets of Coruscant, at the doors of the Imperial Palace itself, a chaotic battle raged.

In front of the enormous pyramidal structure of that housed the heart of Imperial power, a dozen legions of stormtroopers were assembled. Every one of them carried a lethal standard issue blaster rifle, which they wielded with ingrained instinct to devastating effect. They were rigid in posture and singularly focused, all their collective thoughts concentrated on one absolute goal: protect the Emperor, no matter what the cost.

Opposite them stood thousands upon thousands of furious rebel soldiers, comprised mostly of Coruscant denizens who had taken up arms under the Leader. Unlike the stormtroopers, they possessed little body armor and few state-of-the-art weapons. Likewise, however, they were united by a common purpose: to tear down the Emperor and regain the freedom that had long been denied to them.

The two sides clashed against one another with a fury that seemed to rock the core of the planet itself. A hail of red and green blaster bolts flew back and forth between the massed armies, felling hundreds by the minute. However, with every soldier or freedom fighter who was cut down, ten more rose up to take his or her place.

With every passing minute, the intensity of the conflict redoubled. Battle cries in countless different languages rose up from the combined forces of the Leader and the Alliance, creating a cacophony that at its peak drowned out even the loudest screams and explosions. The mob raised fists and weapons into the air, roaring their defiance as one.

_"Death to the Empire!" _

"Freedom for all!"

"Down with tyranny! Long live the Leader!" 

The stormtroopers did not answer the challenges and taunts: they did not need to. They focused their efforts instead on lobbing grenades and concentrating their fire on the most vocal groups of rebels. Scores fell, but the cheers only got louder.

At the front line of the battle, Padmé Amidala Skywalker held a blaster in each hand, firing non-stop at the troopers targeting the chanting groups. Her aim was flawless, each time she fired she picked off another enemy soldier. Beside her, Sabé was working in a similar manner, the two of them acting as a seamless team while Commander Tal Rikers and his troops watched their flanks and provided covering fire. Master Yoda stood in front of them, deflecting all return fire with either his lightsaber or the Force. The great Jedi Master's eyes shone with the fire of battle, and despite his small stature, not even the bravest of the enemy soldiers dared to venture forward to meet him.

Even as she fought, Padmé was a whirlwind of emotions. With each life she took, she felt her heart jerk painfully. With each wound she caused, she bled with the other. She loathed what she was doing, what it was necessary for her to do for their goal to be fulfilled, but she pressed grimly on. Like the Liberation of her home planet of Naboo eighteen years before, like her escape from the execution arena on Geonosis, like dozens of bloody battles that had been waged during the Clone Wars, the only way to victory was to fight for what she believed.

They were doing well, she thought. Despite going up against the deadliest forces the Emperor could throw at them, they were holding their own and even gaining ground. With their success, their forces were gaining heart and pressing even harder, fighting with a passion that the stormtroopers could not match. But while their side had heart, the enemy had purpose and military advantage. One on one, a rebel freedom fighter was simply no match for a stormtrooper, raised and trained from birth to fight and to kill. While the loyalty of the Alliance forces was hardened through the resolve of a common dream, the Imperials' bond had a much older origin, stemming from their common birth in the cloning vats on Kamino. They were of a collective mind, and individual survival meant nothing in the face of the survival of the unit they faithfully served.

Pitted against such unnatural determination, the combined forces of the Leader and the Alliance could not break through. Padmé could see that despite the admirable progress they had made, it would be many, many hours before they could even get close enough to the entrance to storm the Palace. By that time, the Emperor was sure to have brought in further reinforcements, making an already difficult task nearly impossible. If they had air support, then perhaps things would be different, but Bail and the others could not send them aid until they broke through Coruscant's defenses and beyond the blood-red skies above, Imperial resistance was even greater.

If one dwelt upon the indescribable odds they faced for too long, it was easy to succumb to a feeling of despair. But whenever Padmé felt a particularly strong surge of frustration or hopelessness, she was able to turn to the man who was leading them, standing out in front of those who he had sworn to protect, a shield that even with its greatest attack the darkness could not break.

In the embattled gap between the two armies, Mace Windu stood alone.

The man known to his people as the Leader had his lightsaber out and ignited, wading into a sea of fire. Wherever the battle raged the fiercest, he was there, turning back the fire from those who fought for him and unleashing it in a devastating storm upon his enemies. The troopers in turn concentrated their fire upon him, but he withstood all their efforts to bring him down. His strikes were possessed with a fury that could not be contained, yet his blade moved with a grace that seemed almost inhuman. Padmé had heard Anakin describe at length the power of Vaapad, Master Windu's personal fighting style, but those allusions had failed to capture the full magnitude of its sheer elegance and deadly effectiveness. He was grace in motion, fused with the savage strength of a great predator searching for its next kill.

Ten clone troopers, bolder than their fellows, rushed out from the comparative safety of the line to confront the Leader. They spread out in perfect formation, seeking to circle him and thereby cut him off from any potential support. Mace moved with them, forcing the Imperials to continuously adjust their positions to keep him from slipping away.

Finally recognizing that their quarry would not allow himself to be cornered, the troopers converged, coordinating their fire to draw their enemy out of hid defensive stance. Mace maneuvered his blade expertly, picking off their shots and effortlessly turning them back at the original shooters. Most of the troopers managed to get out of the way, but two caught the bolts on their chests and went down, smoking.

Without warning, Mace leapt onto the offensive, vaulting into the air and landing between two of the soldiers. One flash of his violet blade, and he severed both of their heads, splitting the formation. Sensing peril, the stormtroopers converged, intent on hemming the Jedi in. In response, Mace hurled his lightsaber, spearing the nearest soldier through the neck. He sprang into the air, landed beside the collapsing body, and pulled his blade free. He then spun and slashed viciously, bisecting the man behind him.

The four remaining clones must have known at that point that they were beaten, but true to their mentality, they refused to back down. One clone attempted to bludgeon Mace with his rifle and lost an arm for his trouble. Undaunted, he lunged forward again and subsequently lost his head. The next moment, Mace spun his blade around in an impossible tight arc and impaled the trooper behind him without looking. The man gave a strangled gasp and collapsed.

One of the two remaining clones, his armor smoking from a reflected blaster shot, pulled a thermal detonator from his belt and, as Mace rounded on him, pressed the dead-man's switch, intent on destroying the Jedi Master along with himself. In the nanosecond before the devastating bomb went off, Mace used the Force to fling the soldier and his remaining comrade back into the ranks of their fellows. The resulting explosion tore a hole in the street and subsequently in the Imperial formation, allowing the Rebel vanguard to fill the breach.

Padmé felt a rush of exhilaration as she watched the display, but it was short-lived. A cry of warning rose up and soldiers on both sides scattered as the creaking and grinding of heavy machinery drew close. From around the side of a palace guard tower emerged a monster: fifteen meters tall, twenty meters long, covered on all sides by durasteel blast armor strong enough to take a shot from a capital ship's turbolaser and remain unscathed. On its beast-like head were mounted a pair of heavy laser cannons and with every step of its heavily plated legs the ground shook, as if heralding the onset of an earthquake. An Imperial AT-AT walker.

The massive vehicle lumbered forward, training its terrifying range of weaponry upon the Rebels and their allies. It fired, and a series of explosions erupted throughout the line of attackers, killing dozens and sparking a massive panic. People surged to get out of the walker's expected path, creating dense bunches of struggling individuals, perfect targets for the AT-AT's gunners. As another explosion sent burning bodies flying into the air, the Imperials surged forward, regaining much of the ground that they had lost over the past hour. The tide of the battle was taking a serious turn for the worse.

Padmé raised both her blasters and began firing relentlessly at the seemingly vulnerable head and neck of the machine. Sabé and others nearby joined in, but the armor was far too thick for the shots to get through. The craft turned to fire at them, and a blast of light erupted from its heavy cannons, bringing with it the promise of instant death. Padmé and the others tried to scramble out of the way, but it was far too late to flee.

Suddenly, Yoda leapt in front of them, meeting the onrushing tide of light head-on. There was a flash, and the ancient Grandmaster absorbed the entire beam of energy, shielding them with the Force. The light vanished, leaving Padmé and the others completely unscathed.

Yoda immediately collapsed to his hands and knees, panting heavily, his lightsaber rolling away from his grasp. Padmé ran to him; she could only imagine the titanic strength and will it must have taken to shield so many from such a devastating attack. She clutched his wrist and felt a pulse: the Jedi Master was alive, then. But the monumental exertion he had just performed had taken its toll. There was no way he would be able to shield them a second time.

Another hail of blaster fire passed close to their heads, killing two and wounding a third. The clones were advancing. Meanwhile, the walker continued to bear down on them, clearly intent on breaking through the Rebel line and crushing them underfoot. They had to retreat or be annihilated. Shouting out orders to carry the wounded, Padmé called for those closest to them to fall back.

Out of nowhere, the Leader appeared, charging head-on towards the walker. The gunners saw him and unleashed a hail of rapid-fire turbolasers. Mace, however, moved too quickly and too unpredictably for the gunners to get a good fix on him, and within seconds he was beneath the massive craft's undercarriage, out of its line of fire.

The Jedi Master tensed his legs and, with the aid of the Force, sprang fifteen meters into the air. He seized the dangling coolant lines and swung himself up, latching onto the grate leading inside to the pilot's compartment and the fuel reactor. Hanging perilously by one hand from an immense height, he pulled out his lightsaber and slashed a hole in the metal underbelly. Seizing both edges of the ragged opening, he pulled himself inside, vanishing from sight.

The walker continued to advance, wreaking untold havoc upon the Rebels and gaining even more ground for the Imperials. The stormtroopers were preparing to charge the breach in the line, and if the center of the Rebel formation fell, Padmé knew that all was lost. She held her ground, shielding Master Yoda, determined to go down fighting.

Without warning, a massive explosion suddenly ripped through the AT-AT, tearing a breach in its armor over five meters wide. The massive vessel swayed unsteadily, its legs stiffening and smoke billowing from its joints. The Rebels nearest to it fell back, and not a moment too soon. A second later, the monster's head exploded in a storm of fire.

The enormous machine sagged and toppled over in seeming slow motion, gaining speed only as it fell. A dark figure sprang from the smoking breach as with a final resounding crash, the vanquished walker slammed into the ground, crushing at least fifty stormtroopers beneath it and sending many more flying for cover. Within ten seconds, the fire reached the fuel reserves, and the burning hulk exploded, taking out a sizeable chunk of the Imperial formation.

_"Death to tyranny! Long live freedom!"_

A resounding cheer went up among the formerly disheartened resistance fighters for the Leader, and hundreds rushed over the burning wreck, taking the stunned Imperials off guard. The battle resumed with new intensity, the tide having shifted again.

Amidst the horde of renewed fighters charging forward to meet the enemy, Padmé pulled Master Yoda back out of the line of fire, with Sabé providing cover. They found shelter in an alley leading off the main square in front of the enormous Imperial Palace, where a large piece of masonry from a nearly-destroyed building protected them from the worst of the blaster fire. Several dozen wounded were already here, being tended by a few Rebel medics an assortment of volunteers who were either to old, to young, or too frail to fight.

Padmé gently propped Master Yoda up against a smooth section of rubble and wiped her dirty, bloody face on her white sleeve. She had been fighting on the front lines for a considerable time, and only now that she was out of immediate danger was she truly aware of how exhausted she was. She glanced over at Sabé and saw that her friend's features were so obscured by dust and blood that she was barely recognizable.

At their feet, Master Yoda's eyes opened, and the two women could see that although there was great weariness evident in the ancient Grandmaster's gaze, there was no hint of pain. He was not injured then - merely drained. Padmé let out a mental sigh of relief. No matter what the state of the battle, losing Yoda would have been devastating.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew near, and the Leader stepped into view. Mace Windu's hood covered his face, but Padmé knew that he was every bit as dirty and tired as they were. His dark eyes settled onto Yoda, laden with deep concern. "How is he?"

"He's not injured," Padmé told him, "but he's drained. Shielding that many people couldn't have been easy."

"It most certainly was not," Mace said gravely, a small hint of relief touching his tone. "I doubt that anyone else, including me, could have done it. It took prodigious skill, and complete trust in the Force."

In spite of the danger surrounding them, a small smile reached Padmé's lips. "You didn't do so bad yourself. Your actions saved us all."

Mace shrugged. "The last time Coruscant found itself under attack, five years ago, I was unable to protect the people. Mired in designs of grand strategy and with my vision clouded by the influence of the dark side, I was forced to watch so many people suffer. On that day, I swore to myself that I would never again fail to stand between the innocent and those who seek to do them harm. I would give my life if necessary."

"Thankfully, it has not come to that yet," Padmé answered. "But though we're fighting bravely, I'm afraid that our progress has been minimal. It will be many, many hours before we break through, and by that time Palpatine is sure to have brought in reinforcements."

"I have come to the same conclusion," Mace told her. "From what I can gather, our other groups are making far more substantial headway than we are. The Senate Chamber is nearly ours, and we are gaining ground at Operational Headquarters. But obviously Palpatine's primary concern is protecting the seat of his power. He has sent his very best against us."

"Be that as it may, we can't back down at this stage," Padmé said resolutely. "We may never have another opportunity, and Bail and the others are counting on us. Still, I have to think that trying to smash down the front door of the Imperial Palace isn't the best road to victory. Maybe there's another way …"

"Actually," a familiar voice interrupted, "there is."

Mace and Padmé looked up and saw Jodo Kast standing a few meters away, seemingly having emerged from thin air. Clearly fresh of the front lines, his sawed-off blaster rifle hung loosely in one hand by his side and his silver breastplate was stained with something dark that looked horribly like blood. Padmé didn't ask. She had a feeling that she didn't want to know.

"What do you mean, Jodo?" Mace asked, his eyes narrowing intently beneath his hood.

"I've conducted a thorough reconnaissance of the area," Jodo said evenly, tucking the loose end of his head scarf firmly in. "I have found a small service passageway that leads under the Palace, very close to the main power complex. The ceiling is thin enough to cut through. A small team of highly efficient fighters would be able to use this route to infiltrate the Palace and make their way to the Grand Corridor. From there, they could open the door and attack the Imperials from behind, providing a distraction sufficient enough for the main army to break through."

"Just like that?" Sabé broke in, glaring hard at Jodo's hidden face. "You're telling us that the Emperor doesn't know about this passage, that he left it unguarded?"

"I encountered no resistance," Jodo said flatly, turning his steely gaze upon her. "The Emperor is not all-knowing, whatever you may believe. Beyond that, he is arrogant, and those who are arrogant tend to disregard chances that disguise themselves as impossibilities."

Sabé appeared to be stricken for words by the cutting jab. Disregarding her, Jodo turned his full attention to Mace. "If we wish to move, we must do so quickly. We cannot expect that this window will remain open for long, and the longer we delay, the more lives will be lost … unnecessarily."

Mace stared evenly at Jodo, intently searching what was visible of his lieutenant's face for some trace, Padmé knew, of ulterior intent. Jodo met his stare without blinking. His dark, cold eyes were like portals into a soulless void, revealing absolutely nothing.

Finally, Mace spoke. "Where is this passage?"

"Mast … Leader!" Sabé exclaimed. "Are you sure about this?"

"No, Sabé, I am not sure," Mace said steadily, glancing over at her. "But if we fail to exploit this opening, we may never break through. We will take this risk … but we will not do so rashly. Padmé, contact Commander Rikers and have him and his squad meet up with us at the entrance."

Padmé felt just as uneasy as Sabé; the possibility of an unguarded passage under the Palace sounded too good to be true … and ripe with possibilities for a trap. But she did not want to undermine Mace's authority, especially in front of Jodo Kast. The man was dangerous.

She removed the comlink from her belt and found the right channel. "Commander, we have a potential way into the Palace. Follow this signal and have your squad meet up with us."

"Copy that, Councilor," Rikers affirmed. "We're on our way."

Padmé restored the comlink to her belt, leaving the channel open. She nodded fractionally to Mace. The Leader turned back to face his lieutenant. "Lead the way, Jodo."

Without answering, Jodo turned and marched off to the north, his fingers resting lightly on the trigger of his blaster rifle. Mace stared after his retreating back for a moment, seemingly weighing his options, then followed. Padmé glanced at Sabé, who was helping Master Yoda to his feet. Clearly, the Jedi Master had no intention of being left behind.

Padmé drew her blaster and moved off after Mace and Jodo, keeping her eyes wide open as she scanned for any potential threats. A sense of foreboding had filled her, and suddenly she wished that she were back on the front lines, where she knew that her enemy was right in front of her.

_You're being overly cautious, Padmé_, she told herself. _You know this is a necessary risk. Anakin would have known that. Besides, if Jodo had not been telling the truth, wouldn't Master Windu have been able to sense it?_

That made sense. If she couldn't trust a Jedi, who could she trust? Nevertheless, an welcome memory stole into her mind: Master Windu, Yoda and the rest of the Jedi Council, seated unknowingly in the Chancellor's office, less than three meters away from the Dark Lord of the Sith. If experience had taught her anything, it was that even Jedi could be duped.

She would keep her eyes open.

* * *

Jodo led the group to a small alley about a hundred meters from the northeast corner of the Imperial Palace. There was a small covered grate in the center of the street, wide enough for a good-sized human to slide through. Jodo removed the grate and without a word lowered himself into the hole, vanishing from sight.

Mace glanced back at the group assembled in the alley: Padmé, Sabé, Master Yoda, Commander Rikers, and about forty Rebel soldiers. All of them were looking at him anxiously, waiting for his cue. Some of them seemed to be hoping that he would nix this plan and allow them to return to the front lines. The utter silence of the alley was making them all uneasy.

Mace jumped down the opening after Jodo and landed, as expected, in a small service passageway, about two meters in height and a meter and half across. It was dimly lit by dull green glow strips, several of which were overgrown with mold. The passage had an air of neglect to it, suggesting that it had been abandoned for a considerable amount of time.

Padmé slipped down the opening and landed beside him, her blaster up and ready to aim at any threat. A moment later, Sabé appeared beside her, followed by Rikers and the first of the Rebel soldiers. They seemed extremely wary, as though they expected an enemy to emerge from the shadows at any moment. Padmé kept glancing at Mace, seemingly seeking some sort of silent reassurance.

Though they had remained dormant for several years, Mace's Jedi senses were as sharp as ever. He could sense with perfect clarity every life, every conscious mind within a hundred meters in any direction. No stormtroopers waited for them in the dark confines of the passageway ahead of them, nor indeed any hostile entities. The only uncertainty was Jodo, who alone of those nearby seemed capable of sealing off his mind from the Force. Under ordinary circumstances Mace would have been suspicious, but Jodo was, and always had been, an enigma.

The young man had joined the Leader's band about two years ago. Like many unfortunate teenagers, his family had been killed during the Clone Wars, leaving Jodo to fend for himself. According to his story, he had trained himself in self-defense and taken up the life of a mercenary to make ends meet, choosing to ally himself with the anti-Imperial movement because he blamed Palpatine for starting the war that had claimed everyone he loved. Mace had harbored serious reservations about him, even going out of his way to monitor the young man's activities. But despite being unfailingly cold and distant, Jodo had never displayed a hint of disloyalty. To the contrary, he had proved himself to be a valued fighter and a staunch military commander, displaying an admirable grasp of strategy for one so young. His efficiency had allowed him to quickly rise to the Leader's inner circle.

Mace's reservations about the young warrior had never dimmed: the fact that he had learned to seal off his mind, even from an accomplished Jedi Master, was no small feat. But against such a formidable enemy as the Empire, the people needed the best leadership they could get. To this end, the two had forged a kind of unspoken truce, built solidly upon the old axiom of _the enemy of my enemy is my friend_. Given that Mace had concealed his true identity from everyone, he could hardly blame Jodo for choosing to keep his past shrouded in mystery.

"This way."

Jodo turned and strode away down the passage, beckoning over his shoulder for the others to follow. Banishing his doubts, but nevertheless keeping a close grip on the cool handle of his weapon, Mace advanced down the corridor in Jodo's wake. Padmé and the others fell into single file behind him.

The passageway got shorter and narrower as they moved along, and before long the Jedi Master was forced to bend almost double. The illumination faded to the point of non-existence, and finally the group was plunged into complete blackness. Even Mace's keen eyes could see nothing, and he was compelled to place all his trust in the Force in order to keep himself moving forward. Behind him, Padmé stumbled and cursed. Mace unconsciously reached out and grasped her hand, holding her steady and encouraging her to keep going.

Against his will, terrible memories began to swirl to the front of Mace's thoughts. He was no stranger to darkness, close confines, or the prospect of imminent death. The savage jungles of his homeworld of Haruun Kal had offered him all these obstacles, and he had survived its challenge. His duties as a General in the Clone Wars and the leader of a covert resistance to the Sith had likewise forced him to confront seemingly invincible opponents and win. But though he had successfully hardened his heart against the countess horrors he had faced, he found in this one, crucial moment, he could not free himself from his living nightmare.

Five years ago, he had been crawling on his hands and knees through a tunnel very similar to the one in which he found himself now. Blood poured from countless ragged, gaping wounds and his breath came in shallow gasps. The freezing air pressed in upon him from all sides, intent on squeezing the last hint of life from his painfully pounding heart. Behind him, the harsh voices of his enemies rang out, filled with ominous traces of frustration, anger, and fear. He had killed many of them … so many. Their lifeless bodies littered the underground tunnels for kilometers, skull-like faces staring blankly through the darkness towards the light that their vacant, longing eyes would never behold. Soon, he would join them. In a matter of hours, minutes, or seconds, his torn and battered body would fail him, he would descend to the cold floor of his nameless tomb, submitting at last to the darkness which had sought him all his life, but never conquered him …

Suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The floor sloped upwards to meet it, and the passage began to widen once again. Mace felt Padmé's hand tighten around his, and with her touch all the dark memories slid back into the unconscious void that swirled eternally in the furthest corner of his mind. He squeezed back and allowed the Force to flood him with reassurance; for better or worse, they were nearing the end of their journey.

Within a minute they had reached the source of the light – a relatively open nexus of several dark passages like the one from which they had just emerged, lit by an old halogen service lamp. Above their heads they could hear the steady hum of a massive generator. They were close to one of the Palace's power complexes then, just as Jodo had predicted.

The young mercenary held up a fist, calling for a halt. Reaching above his head, he ran his hands over the low ceiling, searching for something. After about thirty seconds, he stopped, rapped a seemingly blank stretch of durasteel with his knuckles, and stepped away. "There."

Mace moved forward and withdrew his lightsaber from his belt. With a deft movement, he ignited it and plunged the violet blade into the spot Jodo had indicated. At first resistance was considerable, but suddenly it dropped off, and Mace knew that he had reached open air. He drew his blade in a wide circle, then stepped away and used the Force to silently catch the metal plug before it fell to the ground. A shaft of dim light filtered down through the newly created hole.

Without waiting for orders, Jodo reached up, grasped the edges of the hole, and pulled himself quickly up, out of sight. A few seconds later, his muffled voice reached the ears of the group. "All clear."

Mace reached up and pulled himself through the hole. Crouching on the edge, he extended a hand down to help Padmé and Sabé, who were not quite tall enough to pull themselves up without assistance. Commander Rikers, the rest of the soldiers, and Yoda all followed.

As they were filing out, Mace took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. Jodo's passage had led them into what appeared to be a fuel storage room: the walls on both sides were lined with massive tanks, and an intricate series of pipes ran along the high ceiling, connecting them presumably with nearby reactors. The entire area was lit by a dull yellow light that seemed to have no clear origin, and the dull hum of the reactors drowned out any ambient noise. Despite this, Mace could sense the battle raging above their heads, several stories above. It was not immediately apparent who was winning, but the resistance was still going strong. There was hope then, at least.

"Come," Jodo said tersely as soon as the last of the soldiers had clambered out of the hole. "Time is short. We cannot linger."

He strode off purposely between the massive rows of tanks, clearly certain of his destination. Mace followed him, keeping his hand on his lightsaber and his perceptions extended for any sign of danger. Padmé and Sabé came next, then Rikers and his band, and finally Yoda, who paused to make sure that the plug they had created settled smoothly back into the hole.

Jodo led them along a convoluted series of passages, turning sharply and never pausing to explain where they were headed. As they walked, the humming grew louder, and Mace knew that they were drawing near the reactors. So far, so good, it seemed. Nevertheless, his perception were tugging at him in a way that made him feel slightly apprehensive about what was to come. The Force was trying to tell him something – he just didn't know what it was yet.

Suddenly, the rows of tanks on both sides simply ended, and the dull yellow light was replaced by a brilliant blue. They had walked through a large archway and found themselves in what was clearly a major reaction chamber, with fuel lines running from the chamber they had just left to three massive cores straight ahead. A series of passages marked by blastdoors ran along the walls, and the room was littered with service equipment, though strangely, no service workers or droids. The scars on Mace's skull prickled. He couldn't sense anything distinct through the Force, but his tactical sense told him that this was the perfect place for an amubush.

Jodo, seemingly oblivious to these sensations, continued to march forward. Mace glanced back at Padmé and Sabé, who looked every bit as anxious as he felt.

"Something's not right," Padmé whispered.

""I sense it as well," Mace said quietly. "But we've come this far. Do you think we should turn back?"

"I don't know what to think," Padmé answered. "All I can say is I've got a bad feeling about this …"

As she spoke, two things happened without warning. One, a massive blast door crashed down in the archway behind them, sealing off the way they had come. Second, Mace's vague senses of impending danger coalesced into the sharp perception of an immediate threat. There was no time to draw his lightsaber, but the Force took over and made him do the only thing he could.

"GET DOWN!"

He seized Padmé and Sabé by their arms and pulled them to the floor, just in time to avoid the hail of the blasterfire that erupted over their heads. The Rebel soldiers, taken completely by surprise, suffered the brunt of the attack. At least twenty of them fell, either injured or dead, and the rest broke formation, trying desperately to draw their weapons. Mace heard Rikers shouting orders as he tried to return fire against an enemy that could not be seen.

After taking a fraction of a second to make sure that neither Padmé nor Sabé had been hit, Mace sprang to his feet with lightsaber in hand. He immediately began to draw heavy fire, but that was his intention: every bolt aimed at him was one that could not harm those under his protection. He fell into rhythm with the Force and began turning back every shot, sending some of them ricocheting back at their casters. A few distant cries alerted him to his success, but Mace was far more concerned with the cries escaping from the lips of nearby Rebel soldiers as the ambushers riddled them with fire. He saw Rikers fall, clutching his shoulder, and two soldiers who ran forward to help their commander took blasts to the chest. There seemed to be no way out when a harsh voice rang out, mechanically amplified through stormtrooper armor.

"You're surrounded, Rebels! Stand down before we kill you all!"

Mace remained tense, lightsaber raised, fully expecting a trick. Beside him, Padmé, Sabé, and Yoda remained equally still, weapons at the ready. The stormtrooper commander stepped out from cover, his blaster rifle aimed directly at Mace. "This is your final warning. Surrender, or die."

Fiery anger burned in Sabé's eyes. "This isn't over," she whispered. "The commander's standing in front of the flow control for the main fuel line. If I can just get …"

"Sabé, no," Mace said firmly. As angry and disappointed as he himself was, he did not want to risk all of his surviving friends losing their lives with an unnecessary gamble. "You don't have a clear shot."

"She doesn't," a cold voice interjected as an ominous clicking sounded centimeters behind Mace's head. "I do."

Mace turned around and found himself face to face with the deadly barrel of a long silver blaster pistol. And holding it in a perfectly steady hand, his previously empty eyes now alive with venom, was Jodo Kast.

Mace's thoughts did not collapse into despair and anger as he began to absorb the full significance of the betrayal. In a way, he supposed that some part of him had always known it would come to this. "Jodo."

Though his face remained shrouded, the young mercenary's tone suggested that his mouth was curled in a triumphant sneer. "You're not surprised, Jedi. Nor should you be. I took great pains to conceal my plans from you, but I never expected that it would work this well."

Padmé and Sabé were staring at him in a mixture of shock and disgust, but Jodo seemed to have eyes only for Mace. His steady hands trembled ever so slightly. "Drop your lightsaber, Jedi. If you don't, the commander will open fire again and all of your friends will die."

Padmé shook her head frantically at Mace, but the slightest glance into Jodo's eyes told Mace that the young man was utterly serious. Slowly, he opened his hand and allowed his blade to fall to the floor.

"I don't know why you want to kill me, Jodo," he said evenly, "but if you're going to do it, do it now and let the others go."

"Now, that won't do, will it?" Jodo asked scathingly. "If you were anyone else, Jedi, you would already be dead. But I swore to myself long ago, as I watched him die, that I would make my father's killer look into my face before I took my revenge."

_Revenge?_ Mace thought quickly. He had killed many over the years, but had he ever been so cruel as to strike down a man in front of his son?

Jodo reached up with his free hand and unwound the scarf he had tied about his head. As he pulled it free, Mace found himself looking into the eyes of a face he had seen thousands of times before, but only once when it had any real significance. He also recalled, in a flash, a small boy bearing remarkable resemblance to that man, standing beside his father as Mace held a lightsaber to his throat. The face was one of a young Jango Fett.

"Eight years, Master Windu," he said quietly, pain flooding his eyes even as they filled with the utmost hatred. "The legacy of Jango Fett lives on. Mandalorians never forget."

Face locked in a snarl, Boba Fett stared down the barrel of his father's blaster and fired.

Something slammed into Mace from the side, knocking him to the ground, out of the bolt's path. The Jedi Master fell hard, and something heavy landed on top of him. With a jolt, he realized it was Padmé, who had thrown herself into him to save him from certain death.

Surprise lingered on Boba Fett's face only for a second. He spun his blaster to face the two on the floor, clearly more than willing to kill Padmé if it meant the death of the Jedi Master.

As it had so many times before, the prospect of imminent danger galvanized Mace into action. Quicker than the eye could follow, he rolled Padmé off of him, sprang to his feet, and summoned his lightsaber, shielding the Rebel leader with his body. A deadly bolt of energy erupted from the barrel of Fett's gun, but Mace ignited his weapon and flicked the killing beam away.

True to their word, the stormtroopers began to open fire again, but Mace could not longer worry about that. Silently praying that Yoda would be able to protect Padmé, Sabé, and the others, he turned his full attention to the conflict at hand. Defeating Jango Fett had been one of the toughest battles of his life, and the Mandalorian's son was every bit as skilled as his father had been.

Fett pulled out a second blaster pistol and began to fire in rapid succession. Mace turned back every shot, but not one of his deflections found its mark. Fett moved fluidly, ducking and weaving to avoid the rebounds, and never once did he cease firing. His shots were expertly placed, designed to lure the Jedi's blade out of position, and more than once Mace had to leap to the side to avoid a bolt it was impossible for him to block,

Without warning, Fett changed tactics. A stream of fire erupted from a nozzle on the gauntlet of his left arm, forcing Mace into a Force-assisted backflip to aoid being consumed. The Jedi Master landed awkwardly as he twisted in midair to avoid the follow-up shots, and Fett pressed his advantage, charging forward and smashing headlong into Mace, sending his lightsaber flying.

Mace was able to roll away, but not before Fett delivered a crushing blow to the back of his skull. Fighting off the stars that exploded in his field of vision, Mace reached out his hand and blindly summoned his lightsaber. His trust in the force rewarded him with the cool metal of his weapon settling back into his hand.

Sensing Fett looming above him, Mace leapt up and spun with blade ignited, aiming for his adversary's weapon hand. Displaying his remarkable reflexes, Fett was able to save his limb from being severed, but one of his blasters was sliced in half. The Mandalorian was forced to step back while he brought his other weapon to bear, and Mace took the opportunity to shove out with the Force and send his opponent flying.

Fett slammed into a nearby fuel line, nearly losing his grip on his remaining blaster. Mace charged forward, having no intention of allowing his opponent to get back up. Fett sprang to his feet and snatched something from his utility belt. Mace failed to see what it was, but he knew instinctively that it was deadly. The Jedi Master swung his lightsaber in a tight arc, intending to disarm Fett before he could trigger whatever it was he held.

A familiar _snap-hiss_ split the air, and Mace unexpectedly found his blade blocked. In Fett's hand was a lightsaber, one with a blue-green blade. In fact, there were several lightsabers on his belt, no doubt taken from the hands of fallen Jedi. Mace felt a rush of anger mixed with sadness, but he had no time to dwell upon it as Fett's eyes glittered with cold malice.

The Mandalorian shoved the Jedi Master away from him and held the conquered blade at the ready position. Ordinarily, a non-Force sensitive individual would not have been able to wield a lightsaber without risking far more serious injury to themselves than their opponent. Fett, however, was endowed with reflexes far beyond an ordinary human, and the confident gleam in his eyes let Mace know that he was more than proficient.

He attacked. Mace met the strike evenly, surprised by the power and control exuded by the young Mandalorian. He countered with a lightning slash similar to the one that had taken Jango Fett's life eight years ago. Though Boba was perhaps slower to block it than a Jedi would have been, he nonetheless was able to avoid a similar fate.

The Mandalorian unexpectedly rushed forward and lunged out with his blade. Mace, unprepared for such a bold maneuver, took a long gash to his shoulder. At the same time the blade tore into his flesh, the Jedi Master heard Sabé cry out, and his intuition showed him a picture of Padmé, Sabé, and Yoda struggling to hold off the Imperial surge. His charges were faltering. He had to intervene, or all would be lost.

Ignoring the searing pain of the freshly inflicted wound, Mace whipped his blade around in a devastating slash that Fett, superior reflexes or not, had no hope of blocking. The attack sent the young Mandalorian's weapon flying away and knocked him down at the Jedi Master's feet. Mace wanted to let him lie and return to help his friends, but he knew that leaving an enemy as dangerous as Fett at full capacity was a recipe for disaster. Momentarily setting aside his reservations about harming a 'defenseless' opponent, Mace brought his blade down for a finishing strike.

The blow never landed. Mace's blade stopped dead in midair.

The Jedi Master barely had time to register surprise at the sudden emergence of the invisible vice that had seized him before he noticed two things. One, all of the stormtroopers had stopped firing, leaving the room almost perfectly silent. Second, an icy presence had pervaded the Force around him, imbued with a familiar sense of cold purpose that chilled Mace to the bone. He could not turn his head, but he knew what had happened, even before a deep, mechanically altered voice shook the air.

"I should have known."

From the shadows at the corner of Mace's vision, Darth Vader emerged, resplendent in his flowing cape, his powerful armor, and his eternally soulless black mask. The Sith Lord's slow, deep breathing rattled in the still air, involuntarily causing everyone present to shiver. Vader held loosely in his right hand an ignited blade, which glowed a sinister red with the promise of vengeance.

"I should have known," Vader repeated again, striding smoothly across the floor until he was directly in Mace's view. "I should have known when they failed to discover your body. I should have known when this so-called Leader sprang up, claiming to represent the voice and will of the people. I suspected, of course, but some foolish part of me chose to believe that you had, in fact, surrendered your spirit to the Force alongside the rest of your disgraced brethren. I can see now that I was mistaken." The piercing black lenses of Vader's mask met the Jedi Master's eyes. "Master Windu."

Mace returned the gaze without blinking. "Obi-Wan."

With a crack, the vice was broken and Mace was hurled at full force into a nearby machine. He hit it hard and slumped to the floor, blood gathering in his mouth from the suppressed force of the impact. Vader approached him slowly. "It seems that, as always, my Master failed to do the job properly," he said. "And so once again it falls to me to protect the Empire."

Padmé and Sabé were staring at Vader in open fear. They had never seen him so coldly intent on a kill. Yoda, his green eyes narrowed almost angrily at his former pupil, stepped forward. "Stop, Obi-Wan. Do no more murder, you will."

"Patience, my old Master," Vader said, almost carelessly. "I shall deal with you … momentarily."

Without warning, a rumbling sound shook the room. Less than a second later, a massive load of rubble fell from the ceiling and crashed down on the Jedi Master. Yoda managed to shield himself from being crushed, but one piece of debris clipped him on the head and knocked him over. The Grandmaster collapsed to the floor, pinned beneath the heavy stone.

Padmé and Sabé cried out in shock and stormtroopers rushed forward to restrain them, but Vader did not respond. Indeed, he did not even seem to notice that the two women were present. All his attention was fixated on the bleeding Jedi Master who was now struggling to his feet before him.

"This is not the way, Obi-Wan," Mace said quietly, staring at the Sith Lord as though he could see what was left of his old friend's face behind the mask. "You know that the Empire's way has not brought true justice."

Vader said nothing, bringing his blade up to the ready position. Mace did not ignite his weapon. "I will not fight you, Obi-Wan."

"That is your choice," Vader said carelessly. "If the lives of those you command mean nothing to you, so be it. It would not be the first time you have displayed such arrogance."

That barb cut Mace deeper than any lightsaber ever could. Despite the obvious malice in Vader's intent, it was made all the more potent by the fact that Mace knew his taunt to be based on the truth. He had been arrogant, more concerned with abstract ideals such as victory and balance than the lives of those who had placed their trust in him. It was the reason that the Jedi Order had fallen apart, and the reason Obi-Wan had become the man who stood before him now. He fought valiantly to keep the longing darkness from rising inside his heart to consume him. The survival of the Rebellion and the lives of those who had pledged themselves to him now depended on the success of his mission. He needed to stay focused on the present, not mired in the pain of past mistakes.

Yet even as he brought his lightsaber up to meet Vader's descending blade, he knew that this was not the way. Vader was not his true enemy, the malicious darkness which ravaged without reason or care. He was simply a man who wanted what he believed was best for the galaxy, and was willing to sacrifice anyone who stood in the way of that goal.

The punishing strike jarred Mace's arms, nearly knocking his blade loose. Mace held and countered, but he found himself quickly reduced to a fragile defense. Vader's power in the Force had increased exponentially since the last time Mace had encountered him. Furthermore, the Sith had no reservations about his actions; he would do whatever was necessary to achieve his end. Mace knew that he was no match for the Sith Lord. He could fight, even hold his own for a prolonged period. But only someone utterly committed to victory at any cost could defeat Vader, and Mace knew in his heart that he lacked that uncompromising resolve.

As if to prove his point, the next strike came so fast that Mace had no time to react. His lightsaber was stripped from him and he was forced down onto his knees by a powerful exertion of the Force. Vader's mask glowed with the reflected light of his saber as he held its blade to the Jedi Master's neck.

"Goodbye, Master Windu."

Mace closed his eyes to await the stroke which would reunite him with the Force, but it did not come. A cold voice rang out, directing its venom at Vader.

"Back off, Lord Vader. That kill is mine."

Boba Fett was standing on the other side of the two Force-users, his face bloodied and his eyes alight with malice. His blaster was pointed directly at Vader.

The Sith Lord turned his expressionless mask towards the young Mandalorian, not shifting his blade a centimeter. "I have as much to desire vengeance upon this Jedi as you, young Fett. You should not care who delivers the final stroke as long as justice is served."

"He killed my father," Boba spat, his face contorting into a snarl. "I swore that I would avenge his death by my own hand. Whatever claim you have pales to mine."

"You presume much, young Fett," Vader said quietly.

"I presume nothing," Boba said coldly. "The cost is too high. I respect your claim, Lord Vader, but if you do not step away now I promise you will regret it."

"I don't like threats, Mandalorian," Vader answered with equal coldness. "You would do well to choose your next words carefully."

"I always do."

Without the slightest warning, Fett reached behind him and seized Padmé by the throat. He jerked her in front of him and pressed his blaster to her temple. "Give me Windu, or I will burn a hole in Senator Amidala's brain."

Sabé screamed and tried to lunge forward, receiving a blow from a stormtrooper for her trouble. Vader remained perfectly still, watching Fett and the stricken Padmé with his hidden eyes.

"Why …" he asked slowly, "should I care about the life of a former Senator and Rebel leader?"

Padmé's eyes widened in fear and she tried to struggle. Fett tightened his grip on her.

"Because, he said slowly, "she is the wife of a very important Jedi. As such, she is of the utmost importance to you … as leverage."

Padmé abruptly froze in Fett's grasp. Her eyes went even wider and she opened her mouth as if to speak. Fett silenced her by tightening his grip on her throat, all the while watching Vader carefully for his reaction.

The Dark Lord of the Sith gave no indication that Fett's words held any significance for him. He moved his blade a fraction of an inch closer to Mace's neck and spoke evenly. "Tell me, Fett: if what you say is true, why should I not merely disarm you with the Force, slay Master Windu, then have my soldiers take you into custody for attempted subversion?"

Fett grinned coldly. "Do it, Lord Vader. Try your best. Let us test the power of the Force against merely … _human_ skill."

Mace sensed the merest flicker of annoyance pass through the Sith Lord. For a moment, he believed that Vader was reaching out, ready to take Fett's challenge at face value. Then Vader spoke again.

"As tempted as I am to met your challenge, Fett, I cannot have you dictating terms to me. You cannot expect me to let you go free if you succeed in your goal. It seems that you must decide whether your revenge is worth your life."

Fett did not back down. "And you must decide if yours is worth hers."

"ENOUGH!"

There was a loud crack, followed by a cry of pain. Sabé had lashed out at the trooper holding her, possibly breaking his arm in the process. The young woman snatched her blaster from her captor's grasp and held it at point blank range to the control box on the fuel pipe directly adjacent to them. The troopers lunged in, but Sabé fired a warning shot that made them all stop dead in their tracks. The control box sparked ominously and the massive pipe let out a titanic groan as it was subjected to a tremendous increase in pressure. All eyes turned to her as Sabé raised her voice once more. Eyes burning with unprecedented determination, she addressed herself to Vader.

"Listen to me very carefully: this stops now. Lord Vader, I want all my friends to go free. That means Padmé, Master Windu, Yoda, and all our surviving comrades. If you don't comply, I swear on my life that I will pull this trigger and flood this entire chamber with fuel. All of us will die, and the resulting explosion will take out the entire front section of the Imperial Palace, leaving your Emperor open to attack by our forces. You don't want that."

Padmé's mouth hung open in shock. Mace was equally stunned. Vader and Fett were both looking at Sabé, and despite the former's mask and the latter's stiff expression, they were both clearly impressed against their will at the way Sabé, who had been a non-factor moments previously, had managed to turn the tables on both of them. Despite her demand, however, neither shifted their weapons away from their respective captives.

After a long pause, Vader spoke. "Put your weapon down, Sabé. You know that you don't want to do this."

"Why not?" Sabé demanded, her hand trembling as she stared hard at her former lover. "If I don't, Padmé and Mace will die anyway. This way, at least, they don't die as part of your twisted game, the Rebel Alliance gains access to the palace and, in the process, wipes out one of its greatest enemies."

"You are not thinking rationally, Sabé," Vader said calmly. "You will lose far more than you think."

"I doubt that" Sabé said, harsh bitterness mingling with repressed pain in her voice. "We have risked everything against your master … and he has taken it all."

"Really?" Vader asked softly. "What about the children?"

Padmé tensed and Sabé paled in shock. "How do you know about …"

"Luke and Leia?" Vader asked. "Of course I know, Sabé. How do you think I have managed to conceal them from the Emperor all these years?"

Sabé remained stiff, but to Mace she appeared to have relaxed the slightest fraction. She was protecting another secret, it seemed, one which remained so far intact.

"Think about it, Sabé," Vader said coldly. "The children have already lost their father. Could you face eternity knowing that you had deprived them of their mother too?"

"Don't listen to him, Sabé," Padmé gasped. "It's not like …"

Fett jammed his fingers harder into her throat, cutting her off.

Sabé's face was a mask of anguish now. She was trapped between the grim reality of their lost cause and the unyielding logic of the Dark Lord of the Sith. Mace knew that as strong as Sabé was, she would not be able to stand this much longer. Vader was toying with her thoughts, and he was doing it without regard for their history, without the slightest hint of remorse.

"Your sacrifice, however noble it may seem, will not yield the end you believe," Vader announced, driving the nail still deeper. "Even if you blow the door, Imperial reinforcements are still on the way. The Rebels will gain no ground, and the Emperor will move one step closer to victory. By pulling the trigger, you will destroy your greatest chance to depose him."

Mace's thoughts whirled at that last sentence. Something in Vader's tone belied a greater intention. There was a plan unfolding right now, one in which they were enmeshed to deeply to truly understand.

Torment was wracking Sabé now, so much so that Mace wondered if she would lose control and simply pull the trigger to end her pain. Silence reigned for a long moment. Everyone present was willing to die for their cause. It was just a matter of who blinked first.

"This standoff will get us nowhere, Sabé," Vader said, sounding for all the world like a businessman conducting a routine board meeting rather than a Sith Lord presiding over a tense standoff with dozens of lives hanging in the balance. "Allow me, if I may to present a solution."

Sabé's hand twitched, and her fingers brushed the trigger, but she remained still, listening carefully. Vader seemed to take this as an assent, and pressed on.

"You will stand down and allow yourself to be taken into my custody. In return, I give you my word that you, Padmé, the Jedi, and your surviving comrades will not be harmed in any way. You will all be released upon the resolution of this conflict, free to live out your lives under the protection of the Empire."

Sabé's hand turned white as she gripped the handle of her blaster even tighter. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you pull the trigger," Vader said flatly. "And we all die for nothing."

"That doesn't work for me, Vader," Fett interjected, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Either Windu dies by my hand, or all of us go up in flames. I won't have it any other way."

Vader turned his gaze to Fett and studied him for a long moment, seemingly weighing his words carefully. Then he spoke, so softly that those present could barely hear him. Mace wondered if the Sith Lord was using the Force to direct his voice to Fett's ears alone.

"I can understand your desire to see Master Windu dead, Fett. The Force knows I have every reason to desire that end myself. But sometimes death is not the ultimate answer for righting a wrong. As your father likely told you once, there are many ways to destroy a man besides simply killing him."

Fett said nothing, but he leaned ever so slightly forward, taking in every word with careful consideration.

"Consider the fate that awaits Master Windu," Vader said quietly. "Should he die now, he would be reunited with the Force, entering a state of complete transcendence far beyond what the mortally bound could comprehend. To a Jedi, such a state is the ultimate goal. Alive, however, he faces a galaxy in which everything he has ever worked for or cherished is gone. The Republic is dead. The Jedi have been destroyed. The Rebellion will soon be ashes. Any hope of restoring them will be lost, and so he faces a lifetime of suffering and doubt in which the only certainty is the knowledge of his own failure. It is a life without purpose, without meaning, without hope. Such an existence is worse than any hell, Fett. I know … I have lived it."

The young Mandalorian remained silent, but close examination of his features revealed that Vader's carefully chosen words were having the desired effect. The icy wall of resistance in Fett's eyes slowly began to melt as he considered the situation in a new light.

"I have a contract," he said flatly. "The Emperor will no doubt view this as a failure to fulfill its terms."

"Your fee will be doubled," Vader told him. "And – with your consent – Jango Fett will be canonized as a martyr in the eyes of the Empire."

Boba's eyes narrowed sharply. "My father would not want that. He despised such pageantry."

"No pageantry," Vader said evenly. "Merely recognition of a noble warrior – and a great man."

It seemed that Fett could find no further objection. He remained still and silently for a moment longer, then abruptly withdrew his blaster from Padmé's temple and released his vice-like grip on her neck. The young woman staggered away from her captor, massaging her damaged throat, only to walk straight into two waiting stormtroopers, one of whom clamped down on her upper arm.

"Sabé," Vader called out. "Your turn."

With painful slowness, Sabé lowered her weapon until it was pointed at the floor. The minute the control box was out of her line of fire, the troopers pounced, stripping her of her weapon and cuffing her hands behind her back. The soldier whose arm Sabé had broken looked for a moment as though he would like to return the favor, but dared not do so under the watchful eye of the Sith Lord.

Vader nodded in approval as Padmé and Sabé were secured. Then, with deliberate precision, he moved his glowing blade away from Master Windu's neck.

The soldiers quickly descended upon the Jedi Master, binding him up much tighter than the two women were. Four stormtroopers began to dig through the pile of rubble Vader had created to extract the comatose body of Yoda. Other soldiers gathered up the surviving rebel commandos and loaded them onto makeshift stretchers. The dead were left to lie.

Vader watched passively as his soldiers secured the rebels, seemingly unshaken from the tense ordeal that had been resolved only moments before. Fett stood beside him, his face equally emotionless. He tensed very slightly as Mace was shuffled past him, but said nothing until they had moved past. "Wait."

The troopers halted. Fett glanced at Vader, who seemed to understand, and nodded. The young Mandalorian pulled out a gleaming knife, strode over to the Jedi Master, and slashed his cheek three times in quick succession, carving a series of lines in the Jedi Master's skin. Mace did not cry out, merely closed his eyes as the blood ran fresh down his cheek.

Fett stepped back and uttered a terse sentence in a foreign tongue. Though Mace was not fluent in Mandalorian, he knew the meaning of the phrase, long practiced by those the warrior people defeated but chose not to kill: _my enemy, your spirit is broken._

His work done, Fett gave the Jedi Master one last look, then abruptly turned his back on him and strode away, donning his head scarf once more as he did so. He walked past the Dark Lord without looking at him, but nonetheless gave him a short acknowledgement.

"I'll be in touch."

Vader nodded, and watched as Fett strode off, disappearing into the shadows. The moment he was gone, the Sith Lord returned his focus to his commander, who was standing beside the prisoners, awaiting orders. "Take them away."

The soldiers obeyed silently, shoving their captives past their master towards the turbolifts along the wall. Questions burned in Padmé's eyes as she passed the Dark Lord, but at a quick motion from Vader she was carried away before she had the chance to speak. Sabé noticed, and dug her heels in as she drew near to Vader, forcing a halt. The young woman looked up into the soulless mask of the Sith Lord, and beneath it, the face of the man she had loved.

"I saw that," she said flatly. "I should have known; I just didn't want to believe you were capable of such a thing." Her brown eyes lanced directly through Vader's mask. "You really don't care who you hurt, do you, as long as it goes with your plan?"

Vader met her accusing stare without denial, without pity. "I have no regrets, Sabé," he told her softly. "It needed to be done."

Sabé nodded in seeming understanding, but obviously she had come to a very different conclusion that Vader. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she allowed herself to be marched away.

"Then Obi-Wan Kenobi is truly dead."

Turmoil broke Vader's icy presence in the Force, and for a moment it seemed as though he were going to respond. But he said nothing, and as Sabé was carried into the turbolift and the door was sealed, he turned his back.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Anakin and Vader discuss their plans, the former ignorant of what has transpired on Coruscant. Palpatine makes a final play to drive his two greatest allies and enemies apart. Meanwhile, the battle for Coruscant rages on, the Emperor's plan for the Alliance is revealed, and Han, Lando, and Chewie find themselves in a far more dangerous situation than they bargained for._


	60. Identity

All right, another chapter is here and ready for your viewing entertainment. This one took a little longer than I hoped it would, but it is the holiday season and distractions abound! I'll try to get the next one done faster so that you guys don't have to wait so long between updates. Individual replies will (hopefully) follow with the next post.

Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

**Chapter 60**

"I've got one," Red Four announced, breaking what had been several minutes of tense silence. "If you could have a month of rest and relaxation on any planet in the galaxy, where would you go?"

"Come on, Four," Red Six snorted. "That's not original at all."

"Hey, I couldn't help but notice that you haven't volunteered any better ideas," Four shot back, annoyance palpable even over the filtered static of the squadron communication channel. "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, Six?"

"All right then," Six said smoothly. "I would choose Bespin. The luxury apartments there are the best in the galaxy – and the view is spectacular."

"Yeah – if you can afford it," Red Eight interjected. "How about Ithor? You wouldn't have to pay anything, and it's probably the most naturally beautiful world in the entire galaxy."

"I would dispute that, Eight" Red Four answered. "Alderaan is the most beautiful planet I've ever seen, and it's so peaceful. It has everything you could ever want in the galaxy."

"You're _from_ Alderaan!" Red Three exclaimed. "Don't be such a homer, Four."

"You're all turning on me, then?" Four asked, a mock-injured note entering his voice. "And to think that I was going to have you all over to my house after we got off duty! I guess my wife and I will have to enjoy our entire selection of perfectly aged Alderaanian wine ourselves."

"Hold off there, Four!" Red Nine exclaimed. "You notice I haven't said anything bad about you – you wouldn't punish all of us for the words of these few jokers, would you?"

"Of course not, Nine," Red Seven cut in. "Four's not heartless enough to deny you the opportunity to get drunk past the point of all sensibility. He knows its your life's only ambition."

"Is that bitterness I hear in your voice, my friend?" Nine shot back, sounding intrigued. "Could someone still be sore about losing to me a few weeks ago? Just because you can't hold your liquor, Seven, doesn't mean you should begrudge me my steely constitution."

"Steely constitution?" Seven scoffed. "Nine, if I can ever drag you out of the bar and into the gym, I'll show you what a steely constitution _really_ is."

Seated in the cockpit of his new X-Wing, Jax Bronson rolled his eyes as he listened to the banter. He and the rest of his squadron were two hours into what was due to be a six hour defense patrol above Alderaan, and so far they had not seen so much as a speck of suspicious activity. Boredom was quickly setting in among the restless members of the squad, many of whom were disgruntled that they had not been selected to participate in the decisive assault on Coruscant. Their frustration was understandable, even given their military discipline. This was the moment that many of them had signed up for – the chance to strike a critical blow against the Empire – and now that that moment was here, they were sitting on the sidelines, protecting the Alliance's unofficial capital from an attack that no one believed was coming. It was an important duty, but obviously nowhere near as meaningful as participating in the final battle would.

To pass the time, one of the squadron members had suggested that they play the famous "What If?" game. There had not been much support for the idea until Red Six – an ex-hustler from Coruscant with an unquenchable affinity for money, gambling, and the high life – had suggested that they throw together a pool with which to reward the most original category and the most creative response. The pilots had jumped at the chance to supplement their paltry incomes, and now everyone but Jax – designated Red Two – and Red Leader were shooting ideas back and forth with the hope of hitting the so-called "jackpot".

Jax found both the game and the responses it generated to be highly entertaining, and a few months ago he would have jumped at the chance to participate. However, that had been before the fateful events on Coprighin 5. His experience there had taught him that no matter how quiet it seemed, danger was always lurking just out of sight, waiting for the chance to strike and bring your world crashing down around you. Not being alert had not only cost him his family, it had nearly cost him his life and the life of someone he deeply cared about. He had failed to learn his lesson once, but by some miracle fate had somehow given him another chance. He would not be caught off-guard again.

Flying on his wing and a short distance ahead, Red Leader was equally silent. This was nothing new – for the entire time that Jax had been flying with Red Squadron, he had never heard Red Leader talk save to give an order to those under his command. Like Commander Calton, who had given his life to protect Jax on Coprighan 5, the man was a consummate soldier, refusing to address them by anything but their call signs even when they were out of their starfighters. He was something of a legend among the Rebel pilots, with more kills than any pilot on record. Despite this, he had somehow managed to keep the details of his life suppressed – Jax knew him only as Captain Antilles.

Despite their lack of outside communication, Jax couldn't help but feel like Red Leader had taken him under his wing. Flying as the older man's wingman, Jax made sure to watch his every move closely. If he survived this war long enough to be given command of his own squadron, he would be well prepared – he was learning from the best.

"All right, I've got one," Red Seven announced, following thirty seconds of relative silence. "If you could have a one-night stand with any Holonet actress in the galaxy, who would you go for?"

"Now that's a category," Red Nine exclaimed. "Who wants it?"

"Please," Red Five, the only woman in the squadron, interjected, sounding both exasperated and amused. "Is it necessary to dignify that with a response? The sheer overkill of testosterone over this frequency is already making me nauseous."

"You know you love it, Five," Red Seven said slyly. "A gorgeous woman like you, getting to fly on the wing of a perfect gentleman like me? What more could you want?

"I don't know," Five responded mock-wistfully. "Maybe a night on the beach alone with the star of _Love at Lightspeed_?"

"Ouch, Seven," Three proclaimed even as the channel exploded with laughter and congratulations for Red Five. "That had to hurt, even for an ego as padded as yours."

"All in the spirit of fun," Red Seven said darkly. "I won't forget this, Five, not even when that show is cancelled and you come sliding up to my door, needing someone to keep you warm at night."

"You needn't worry, Seven," Five said teasingly. "I won't be sliding up to your door anytime soon, unless I'm drunker than Nine during a New Moon festival."

Another roar of laughter went up on the channel, and Jax couldn't help but smile. He had truly missed the comradery of his squadron while he was stuck groundside – there were no tighter bonds of friendship than the ones forged through the fire of combat.

"All right, the game's picking up!" Six exclaimed. "Who else wants a go at the big prize?"

"How about Two?" Eight volunteered mischievously. "It's not like Corellians to stay quiet for so long. You know he's got something to say that'll blow us all out of the sky."

Still smiling, Jax keyed his mic. "No thanks, Eight. You guys carry on."

"Of course," Six broke in smoothly. "How could we forget? Two already has his ideal woman all picked out, doesn't he?"

Jax winced as the channel erupted once more with whistles and catcalls. Though he knew no one could see him, he tried his best not to blush.

"I've heard quite the rumors, Two," Seven said. "Did you really fly back from Coprighin 5 with her on your lap?"

"Dear, dear, he must have let _something_ slip to her during that long, cozy flight," Eight said. "So does Natrina know about your long-suffering love at last, Two?"

"Talk to me, Two," Red Ten interjected. "I had this time in our pool. Come on … say the magic words and bring three hundred credits home to daddy's pocket."

Jax sighed. "Look, guys, can we focus on the mission?"

"So serious," Three said with mock gravity. "He's under her spell already. We'll have another Four on our hands before we know it."

"Hey," Four countered. "Watch yourself."

Jax rolled his eyes again. He needed to put a stop to this, and the only way to do it was to humor them. "All right, guys, the gloves are coming off. If this is the way you want to play it, then …"

"Enough," Red Leader's grating voice echoed over the channel for the first time. "We have an incoming transmission. Form up."

Everyone in the squadron shut up instantly and guided their fighters back into tight formation. When Red Leader gave an order, everyone listened.

"Control, this is Red Leader," Antilles said shortly over the general squadron frequency. "We are currently at point lambda of our authorized flight plan, two hours and thirty-seven minutes into a standard defense patrol above Alderaan. Hostiles encountered zero, all squadron members accounted for. What is our directive?"

"Red Leader, Control wishes to advise you that sensors have detected an anomaly in the outer reaches of the system," the communications officer responded. "It may signal a possible reversion from hyperspace. The Commander wants you to deviate from your current flight plan and investigate."

Jax started, and his face flushed in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. The communications officer on the other end of the line was none other than Natrina. He could immediately visualize the rest of his squadron fighting back silent laughter, which only made him feel more foolish.

"Affirmative, Control," Red Leader said flatly, either unaware of the amusement or simply oblivious to it. "We will deviate course immediately. Red Squadron, on my wing."

His X-Wing banked and headed away from the planet, towards the outer reaches of the system. Jax angled his control stick and followed him in tight formation, doing his best to banish his feelings of embarrassment from his mind. His instincts had held up – he had a duty to attend to.

"Jax?"

Jax panicked until he realized that Natrina's voice was coming over his personal channel, not the common squadron frequency. He internally breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Natrina. You shouldn't be talking to me without authorization when we're on duty. You could get in trouble."

"You let me worry about that," Natrina said, sounding amused at Jax's newfound sense of caution. "How are you doing, flyboy?"

"Just fantastic," Jax responded, unable to stop a smile from rising to his lips. Force, why did Natrina _always_ have this effect on him? "It feels so good to be flying again."

"I'm sure it does," Natrina responded sincerely. "You still sound a little tense though, Jax. Is something going on?"

Jax shrugged. "Typical squadron banter. Some of the guys were giving me a hard time."

"Really?" Natrina asked, sounding interested. "What about?"

Jax grimaced._ Think … think before you open your mouth._ "Trust me, you don't want to know right now."

"I'll ask you about it later, then," Natrina said, and Jax's grimace worsened. "I don't want to keep you, Jax. I just wanted to hear your voice."

Jax felt like his entire skin had been set on fire by those words. He had to concentrate hard to force out his next words. "Really?"

Natrina laughed. "Yes, really, flyboy. I enjoy talking with you, believe it or not."

Jax grinned rather foolishly. "We can talk as much as you want when I get back."

"I'd like that, Jax," Natrina said earnestly. "I really would."

Jax noticed that his squadron channel was buzzing for attention. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of his transcendent state. "I have to go."

"I understand," Natrina said quietly. "Take care, Jax. Please be careful."

Jax nodded. "I will … for you."

He disconnected the channel and turned to the squadron frequency. "Red Two here."

"Enjoying yourself, Red Two? I've been trying to raise you for the past sixty seconds."

Jax immediately snapped to full attention. "Sorry, Red Leader. I was …"

"No need for excuses, Red Two," Antilles said shortly. "Just remember what needs to come first, especially in battle. You're a good pilot, but I can always get another wingman."

"No need for that, Red Leader," Jax said hurriedly. "I'll be on your wing from here on out."

"I'm counting on that, Red Two. Don't let me down."

"I won't, Sir."

Jax berated himself silently as he directed all his focus into guiding his craft. _Are you ever going to learn, Bronson? One more slip-up like that and it could be the end …_

"Squad, take positions," Red Leader said abruptly. "I've got something on sensors."

Jax glanced down at his sensor display and saw that Red Leader was right. A large blip had emerged on the far edge of his screen. It was far too big to be a capital ship, or even several of them. It was at least one hundred and twenty kilometers in diameter - the size of a small moon.

A terrible feeling began to gnaw the inside of Jax's stomach. No, it couldn't be …

"By the nine Corellian hells!" Red Three exclaimed. "What is that thing?"

"No way," Red Five said softly. "Not even the Empire could build something that big …"

"Squadron, deploy S-Foils!" Red Leader snapped, no hint of fear evident in his harsh tone. "We have hostiles emerging on all sides of target prime! Alert Control and prepare to engage!"

Sure enough, no fewer than six Star Destroyers had emerged from hyperspace on all sides of what Jax knew could only be the Emperor's ultimate weapon. Already, swarms of fighters were departing from their hanger bays, racing straight for the vastly outnumbered rebel pilots. The Death Star, meanwhile, slowly but surely began to accelerate in-system, heading directly for Alderaan, the peaceful heart of the Alliance which it had obviously come to destroy.

"Take evasive action," Red Leader said steadily. "Red Two, on my wing."

He dove, and Jax jerked his craft down to follow him, just as the first volleys lanced through space directly where he had been situated moments before. The young Corellian tried desperately to calm his pounding heart, allowing years of training and natural instinct to take over in what was to be a bitter fight for survival.

The tables had been turned. The decisive battle was not going to be fought at Coruscant, but at Alderaan, and on the Emperor's own terms. Jax could only hope that he and his squadron would not be forced to stand alone.

* * *

Governor Wilhuff Tarkin stood perfectly erect in the command chamber of the Death Star, his impeccably manicured hands folded behind his back. His cold grey eyes were narrowed intently, staring out the viewport at the peaceful green sphere hanging against the backdrop of space. Between him and the planet, a series of silver ships were darting about frantically, quickly trying to assemble some vestige of a defensive formation to slow his advance. Their efforts would be wasted. The glorious spear of the Empire would inevitably smash through their pitiful shield and shatter Alderaan, and in doing so it would also shatter the last fragile delusions of the so-called Rebellion's dream. For a dream was all it was. A fool's dream. And dreams had no power – power came only from fear.

Tarkin grinned savagely, a truly rare expression on his usually cold face. Perhaps the two concepts were not so separate after all. The Death Star was unquestionably the Rebels' greatest fear, and so he would use it as such. In his hands, it would become their ultimate nightmare.

"We have arrived at the outer limits of the Alderaan system, Sir," the captain informed him. "The Rebels are assembling a cordon. Orders?"

This was not the same captain who had stood by and borne witness to Tarkin's humiliation at the hands of Vader a little over a month previously. Following his return to power, Tarkin, with the Emperor's consent, had made sure to conduct a thorough purge of any commanding officers whom he suspected of holding any trace of loyalty to that damnable Sith Lord. The officers who served on the Death Star's command deck now were loyal to him and the Emperor alone.

"Head directly for the planet," Tarkin said breezily. "We shall break through their defenses as though the do not exist."

"Yes, Sir."

The officer hurried off to do his bidding. Tarkin's expression darkened and his hand unconsciously rose to caress the long, jagged scar running down his left cheek. Everything was proceeding according to plan. This day would about his redemption – and his enemies' ruin.

* * *

The burning hulk of the Star Destroyer slowly spiraled away from the _Fool's Dream_, its shields overcome at last by the concentrated turbolaser blasts of a dozen nearby Rebel craft. X-Wings, TIE Fighters, and smaller capital ships alike frantically scattered to get out of its way as it began its descent towards Coruscant's planetary shield. A breach opened in the Imperial line, but only for a moment – two Frigates moved into the hole long enough for the remaining Star Destroyers to tighten their formation, sealing off the capital world from the Alliance once more.

Bail Organa sighed in barely contained frustration as renewed turbolaser blasts rained down on his flagship's shields. Another Star Destroyer down, but it had come with a high cost – two Rebel capital ships, two full squadrons of fighters, and hundreds of lives lost. And they were still only marginally closer to breaking through than they had been at the start of the battle. At that rate, there was simply no way that his group would survive long enough to provide aid to Padmé, Yoda, and all those fighting on the ground. Without support, their efforts would inevitably end in failure.

"Sir, our shields are down to twenty-five percent of their full strength," the captain informed him. "We are beginning to take critical damage to our hull. Shall I have us pull back to recharge?"

Bail considered it. The _Fool's Dream_had been on the frontlines for longer than any other craft, buoying up the center of the Alliance formation. As the most powerful ship in the Alliance fleet, it had been dealing out substantial damage to the Imperials – and receiving it in turn. The ship, the crew, and Bail himself could all benefit from a short time out of the line of fire. Everyone could refresh themselves and make repairs, and he could perhaps assess the tactical situation more clearly.

But removing the cruiser from the frontlines would leave a sizeable hole in the center of the formation, an opening which the Empire would be quick to exploit. If a single Star Destroyer could penetrate their line, they would quickly lose what little ground they had gained and ultimately be driven backwards in a rout. Withdraw at this point would mean defeat. They had to hold.

"We won't be withdrawing, Captain," Bail informed his officer. "We will remain in position and provide support for our adjacent forces."

"But Sir, the shields …"

Bail cut him off. "Divert power from all non-essential systems to the shields. Even shut down life-support if you have to. The air on this ship will last longer than our shields will under this pounding."

The captain looked taken aback by Bail's unshaken resolve, but he was much too good of an officer to question orders. "Yes, Sir."

Bail nodded and returned his attention to the battle. Another Rebel Cruiser had fallen off, overwhelmed by bombardment from all sides. It tried to flee, but the Imperials sensed blood and pounced. A fresh wave of fire hit broadside, and the ship broke apart under the strain.

An idea rose to the forefront of Bail's mind, one born of desperation. He had been holding Group Four in reverse for the duration of the battle in order to stave off the potential of any surprise Imperial attacks on the rear of his forces. In particular, he had been worried about the Fifth Fleet and its unknown whereabouts, suspecting that the Emperor was holding them in reserve for something truly sinister. But though the battle had been dragging on for hours, there had been no sign of any Imperial reinforcements. Palpatine was a patient man, but he was also bloodthirsty. He would want to crush the Alliance quickly, and if he were holding an ace up his sleeve, Bail strongly suspected that he would have pulled it by now.

If there was no surprise attack coming, then he could pull Group Four up and have them provide support for his forces. The Imperials would not be able to adjust to such a maneuver instantaneously, and if he were quick enough he might be able to tear a hole in their line large enough for him to split their forces. Then the battle would become infinitely easier.

"Maris," he called out. "Tell General Kota's group to move up and join us in targeting the center of the Imperial line. We're going to split their forces."

"Right away, Senator," the Jedi said calmly.

Within seconds, Group Four was accelerating towards them. Bail shook his head in admiration. The two Jedi must have anticipated his thinking and in turn each other. It was truly remarkable what they could do, and their efficiency would give the Alliance several crucial seconds of surprise.

Without warning, the captain came rushing up to Bail's side, his face flushed and his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. Before the Senator could ask him what had happened, the man spoke, disregarding all protocol in his panic.

"They've found the Fifth Fleet! It just emerged over Alderaan, with the Death Star in tow!"

Every cell in Bail's body froze as an unstoppable wave of icy horror seized him. No, it couldn't be. How could he not have seen this coming? Palpatine had had something planned – he was going for the heart of the Alliance. Bail's homeworld, his people, his family …

_Breha_ …

Bail sprang back to life, spinning around so fast that he left a skid mark on the polished deck. "Maris, tell General Kota to go to lightspeed now! Get them to Alderaan as soon as possible. They've got to head them off!"

Once again, the Jedi's wondrous sense of perception and coordination was to prove a blessing. No sooner were the words out of Bail's mouth than Maris was relaying them and General Kota's group was turning around, redirecting themselves towards Alderaan. Within a minute, the entire group was departing into hyperspace.

"It'll take them at least twenty minutes to get there, Sir," the captain informed him shakily. "It might be too late."

Bail clenched his hands into fists and ground his teeth together, fighting to prevent the tears from flowing freely down his face and despair from overwhelming him. He had failed. He had underestimated both the Emperor's brilliance and his penchant for unimaginable cruelty … and might have cost him all that he loved most in the galaxy.

"Orders, Sir?" the captain asked softly.

Bail raised his head, his eyes dry and burning with a newfound passion. He shook off the comforting hand that his loyal bodyguard Sheltay had laid on his shoulder and strode towards the forefront of the bridge, his gaze locked on the Star Destroyer bearing down on them, all guns blazing.

"Accelerate to full speed ahead and concentrate all our fire on that ship," he spat, venom coursing through his voice with stunning clarity. "I want it destroyed!"

The bridge snapped to life, and within seconds the bombardment had commenced. Bail stared unblinkingly out the front viewport and the two massive ships raced toward one another on a collision course, trading fire in a nearly continuous stream. Bail knew that only one ship would survive the confrontation, but he no longer had space for fear in his heart. All human weakness had been replaced by anger.

_This is personal now, Palpatine_ he thought as he visualized the cackling face of his enemy. _And if it takes my last breath, I swear I will see you and all you stand for destroyed._

* * *

Han leaned back in his chair and shook his head in amazement. The journey to Alderaan had passed quicker than he ever would have believed possible. They had left Coruscant what seemed like only a few minutes ago, and he had barely begun to explore the various features of the ship before the hyperdrive indicator had started beeping, indicating that they were drawing up on Alderaan. Doing some quick calculations, Han realized that the Falcon had made at least point six past lightspeed. That put the faster ships in the Imperial Navy to shame. Han couldn't contain a grin – apparently those illegal modifications weren't just rumors after all.

He turned and nodded to Chewbacca, who he was pleased to see was already making preparations for the reversion. Then he turned and punched Lando, who had dozed off in the anticipation of a longer flight, in the shoulder. "Wake up."

"Whazzat?" Lando came to abruptly, shaking his head and running a hand across his face. "Han, what the hell was that for?"

"We're here," Han told him, the grin stealing back onto his face. "We're about to drop out of hyperspace."

Lando sat bolt upright in his chair. "Already? But that would mean …"

"At least point six past lightspeed," Han told him. "I figure that if I tinker with her a little bit, I can probably get her up to point eight or higher. I'd have the fastest ship in the galaxy."

"Lady Luck smiles on you again, old buddy." Lando whistled between his teeth, staring at the beat-up console with what might have been the slightest touch of envy. "What moron thought this baby belonged on the scrapheap? She's a beauty!"

"You did, as recently as an hour ago," Han reminded him. "Come on, let's bring her out."

He settled back into the pilot's chair and positioned his hand on the hyperdrive lever. "Ready to revert to sublight engines in three, two, one …"

He pushed up on the lever. With a transition that was a little more jarring than he was willing to acknowledge, the _Falcon_ settled back into realspace, the blue-green disc of Alderaan directly ahead of them through the forward viewport.

Han could sense immediately that something was wrong. A bad feeling pervaded his insides as soon as the seemingly peaceful planet came into focus, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from until something smashed into the _Falcon_'s shields with a force so great it shook the entire cockpit.

He instinctively seized the controls and sent his craft into a dive – just in time to see two more green streaks of light zoom past him, followed by two Imperial TIE Fighters.

"What the blazes?" Lando yelped. "Han, we've jumped into the middle of an Imperial fleet!"

A quick glance around told Han that Lando was right – they were surrounded on all sides by Star Destroyers, Imperial frigates, and swarms of TIE Fighters. Even more mind-blowing was the presence of what appeared to be a moon at the head of the formation – a moon that was moving far too quickly to really be a moon, or even an enormous asteroid.

"By the Nine Corellian Hells!" Lando exclaimed, sounding simultaneously appalled and terrified. "Is that a space station?"

Han shook his head in disbelief. "It's too big to be a space station." Instinctively, however, he knew the truth: only the Empire could harness a weapon like that, and against all odds, he had jumped his ship from one raging battle to another.

"Chewie!" he shouted frantically. "Get the hyperdrive fired up again and plot us a course! Get us the hell out of here!"

The Wookiee quickly began to scroll through the navicomputer, but almost immediately he looked up and woofed an urgent message.

"What!?" Han exclaimed. "They're interdicting us!?"

He let loose the foulest curse he knew and dove for the controls, sending the ship into a barrel roll to avoid another hail of fire from a group of fighters that seemed to have latched onto their tail. "Strap yourself in, and somebody get to the gun turrets! I'm going to let these suckers kiss some spacedust!"

He expected Chewie to head for the guns, but Lando had already jumped out the copliot's seat and sprinted out the door. Apparently, he didn't trust anyone but himself to protect his own back, and given the circumstances, Han couldn't blame him. Chewie settled himself into the copilot's seat and began to dial down the inertial dampeners, clearing the way for Han to take full evasive action.

"Hold onto your lunch," Han muttered, more to himself than anyone. "This is going to be rough."

He jerked the stick and sent the craft into a climb so steep that he felt the skin on his face ripple. Fighting back nausea, he began to spiral in and out of the lines of turbolaser fire. His maneuvering managed to shed most of his pursuit, but in the process he picked up a dozen more fighters, all of whom immediately set the _Falcon_ in their sights.

Han set his jaw in a grim line. It was going to take some unbelievable flying to get them out of this mess. He had always considered himself to be the best, but now the moment of truth was here. He had to back up his word … or he would be shaking hands with death a lot sooner than he would like.

* * *

Sealed in the confines of his personal shuttle, the man of many names sat in silent meditation. The shuttle itself was sealed in the hanger bay of the Star Destroyer _Vengeance_, which was currently in the final few minutes of its hyperspace transit from Corellia to Imperial Center. There was little reason for the man to be here – if he desired isolation, his spacious personal quarters on board the command ship were perfectly suited for the task. But the man had chosen to shun them – they were an acute reminder of the new position he held both in the galaxy and in the eyes of the Emperor, and in this moment he needed separation from any influences save those emanating from his own instincts.

All his life, he had been many things to many people. To the Jedi, he had been the Chosen One, their so-called savior destined to bring balance to the Force. To the people of the Republic he had been the Hero Without Fear, a beacon of light and hope standing against the growing darkness. To the disciples of the dark, he had been the Sith'ari, the being of ancient prophecy destined to destroy and rebuild their order. And now, to the Emperor and his subjects, he was Lord Skywalker, a faceless enforcer dedicated to preserving the will of the Empire.

Yet he was none of these things, the man realized. He was not a savior or a hero. He was not a prophetic being or a mindless instrument of the Emperor's will. He was simply a man who over the course of his life had taken many wrong turns, and he now was looking to finally make a right one. The only problem was that he had so little idea of where to look that in searching for the signs that would guide him to ultimate vindication, he had gotten himself lost. At this point, he was so mired in a moral quagmire of right and wrong, of darkness and light that he didn't even know who he was anymore.

Yes, the voice inside his head told him, he was Anakin Skywalker. But what importance did that name hold? None whatsoever. It was a name, like all names, to be used when it was convenient and discarded when it was not. It held no more substance than any of the other titles he had been assigned, for it did not carry with it the essence of his identity. The forces which had shaped his life had stripped him of all sense of what it meant to have an identity, what it meant to be an individual, what it meant to be _human_. All he knew was how to be an instrument of someone else's ambitions, a tool that could be trained to heal, to threaten, or to kill. It sickened him, yet somehow he was powerless to stop it.

He had kept himself grounded for years by investing himself deeply in those he loved: Padmé and their children. Yet his love for them had proven to be his undoing, for when he had voluntarily cut himself off from them in order to save their lives, he had severed the last meaningful bonds tying him to a life of personal significance. Now, he existed only as an empty shell – a cold vessel for the will of the Force. He had done things in the past few weeks that in the past would have torn his conscience to shreds, but now he reached into the empty space in his chest that had once held his heart and he felt … nothing.

Just a few short hours ago, he had fought against those he had once counted friends and lured them to their destruction. Furthermore, he had dueled and most likely killed Ferus Olin, a Jedi who he had not particularly liked, but nonetheless respected as a worthy rival and fellow member of the Order. Such cold-hearted betrayals would have branded the soul of his past self, but now they were only mildly unsettling. He had managed to assign their deaths to a greater purpose, the securing of a strong and lasting peace for the entire galaxy.

Maybe that was the key. All his life he had been trying to live up to the expectations of others, and it had brought him nothing but heartbreak. The truth was that what he wanted mattered little - it was the will of the Force that mattered, and ultimately the Force wanted balance – stability. Light and Dark, living and dying side by side in perfect harmony.

Vader knew that. The Dark Lord of the Sith had recognized long ago that restricting himself to what was expected of him would lead to him ultimately being used and cast aside. So he had cast those expectations aside, and with them his connection to anyone who might distract him from what needed to be done. He had sacrificed all that made him human for a sense of true purpose, and in return he had gained true power. The power to change the galaxy.

That was Anakin's destiny, if he chose to believe it. That was his role. That was what it meant to live under the Shadow of Vader.

He did not like what he had become, but he did not have to. He had embraced his lack of identity. Anakin Skywalker no longer existed, save as a memory in the hearts of those who had loved him. As long as he kept his distance from Padmé and his children, nothing would distract him from doing what was necessary for the good of the galaxy. He would kill Palpatine, and he would help Vader rise to the throne of the Emperor. In doing so, he would ensure that the terrible ghost of his vision would never come to pass. The galaxy would never have to pay the price for his inability to control his power, for it was a flaw that his former master had never shared. There would be peace and stability at last – and he would finally be free.

Lord Skywalker allowed himself a small smile of grim satisfaction. For the first time, his destiny would be what he chose to make of it – and he would live with whatever consequences that brought him.

Buzzing from his personal comlink drew him out of his meditations. The man with only one name and one purpose drew it from his belt and brought it to his lips. "What is it?"

"My Lord, we have emerged from hyperspace," the captain of the _Vengeance_ informed him. "We are approaching the planet from the far side, so you will be able to return to the surface of Imperial Center with minimal interference. Also, Lord Vader has made contact with us. He wishes to speak to you directly on a matter of utmost importance."

The man nodded. He knew what this would concern. "Patch him through."

"At once, My Lord."

A few seconds later, the holoprojector on the shuttle sprang to life and a scaled image of Darth Vader materialized over the console. The infamous Sith Lord stared directly at his former apprentice with a look that was every bit a piercing as it would have been had he been standing in the pilot's compartment. "This line is secure, is it not?"

"Yes," the man said evenly. "I have taken all precautions."

"Good," Vader replied. "Then I will waste no more time. Recent developments on the planet's surface have complicated our plans. The Leader, who is none other than Mace Windu, has staged a full-scale assault on the Imperial Palace, and in doing so has gotten both himself and Master Yoda captured. They are in my custody now."

In the past, the news that Mace Windu had not only survived but was the architect of the massive underground resistance to the Empire would have been very significant, but now the Jedi Master's reemergence barely registered as significant. The name meant little now, but there was a more serious implication to confront. "Palpatine must be thrilled."

"Indeed," Vader said darkly. "He believes that he has removed the most significant threat at hand, and has chosen to set his endgame in motion much earlier than we anticipated he would. We must accelerate our plans if we are to outmaneuver him."

"He will want me to report to him as soon as I land. Should I engage him then?"

"No. He knows that we plan to remove him, so he will have taken measures to protect himself. One of us alone will not succeed. We must meet him on our terms, not his."

The man nodded in understanding. "When will you be ready?"

"I am currently positioning the final elements of our assets so as to make the transition as smooth as possible. When Palpatine falls, we will be there to take control of the military and the political structure in one motion. The Empire will be re-stabilized before news of the Emperor's demise has the chance to spread."

"How long will that take?"

"Not long. Nevertheless, there will be a window of opportunity for Palpatine to escape our net if he can find a way to exert his influence over you. You must not give him that chance. You must close your mind to his allegations, no matter how legitimate they may seem. He will stop at nothing to bring you to his side."

The man set his jaw in a grim line. "You needn't worry, Vader. Palpatine's past manipulations have relied on my trust of him and my concern for my family. Neither of those are accessible to him now. He has no hold over me."

For the briefest moment, Vader's icy calm presence in the Force swirled uneasily, as if someone had thrown a stone into the center of a frozen lake. Before the man could probe the source of the disturbance, however, the turmoil vanished and Vader was in absolute control once more.

"It is not his hold over you that you should worry about, Anakin; it is the hold you have over yourself. As far as you have come towards complete mastery of your emotions, there will always be triggers leading to irrationality. Palpatine is a master of exploiting such instincts - I have experienced it firsthand. He was able to use my hatred of the Jedi to buy five years of unquestioned servitude from me, and all the while I was convinced that I was acting solely to fulfill my own desired ends. I have had years to overcome such triggers; you have only had a few weeks. If we are to succeed, you must make the final sacrifice. Do not forget what must done."

"I will not forget, Vader," the man said firmly. "I learned from the best."

Vader nodded. "Then our time shall come. When we meet again, it shall be as equals in the Force's vision of the New Order."

"I look forward to it."

The communication ended. The man rapped the ignition sharply, bringing the craft's engine roaring to life. He opened a channel to the bridge. "Captain, open the hanger bay doors. I have business on the surface I must attend to."

"Right away, My Lord," the captain responded.

Lord Skywalker gripped the controls of his shuttle tightly in his gloved hands. He had gotten the sense during their conversation that Vader had failed to tell him something – something important which could destroy all that they sought to create. But he would put it out of his mind for now. As of this moment, he was a man of singular purpose – and the Force told him that the only way to fulfill that purpose was to move forward.

He opened the throttle and shot out of the Star Destroyer's hanger, heading directly for the surface of the embattled planet. Somewhere down there, the Emperor was waiting, unaware that destiny's chosen warrior was descending and that in the new vision of the galaxy to come, there would soon be no place for him.

* * *

Emperor Palpatine sat restlessly on his throne, turning his thoughts over and over in his mind. The past hour had brought many new developments in his quest for a final resolution. Two of his greatest enemies, the Leader and Padmé Amidala, had made a bold and rash attempt to infiltrate his stronghold. They had been lead to their undoing by the young Mandalorian soldier he had planted in their ranks for just such purpose. The Rebels on his doorstep were now nothing more than a raving mob, which would soon be dispersed by his far more disciplined soldiers.

He had hoped that Fett would be able to see both Windu and Amidala dead, but his apprentice had intervened. No matter. The events had unfolded in such a way that they could easily be twisted to serve a far more insidious purpose.

The Death Star had made its way to Alderaan, and would soon wipe it from the face of the galaxy. Only a few foolhardy Rebels stood between the defenseless heart of the Alliance and its annihilation, and they were nothing – mere dust on the wind in the face of his unstoppable power.

All his intricately laid plans and machinations were now in motion – all except one.

He reached for the comlink built into the arm of his chair and tuned it to his apprentice's personal frequency. The time had come to eliminate his greatest threat.

"Lord Skywalker."

Skywalker's cold, harsh voice rattled over the channel. "Yes … my Master?"

The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "You have arrived in system, have you not?"

"Yes. I shall land on the surface momentarily."

"Report to me as soon as you land. I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you."

Skywalker's voice distorted, and the Emperor faintly detected a sardonic edge. "May I inquire as to the nature of this matter, my Master?"

"No," Palpatine snapped. "You may not. What I intend to share with you is far too delicate to discuss over this frequency. All I will tell you now is that it concerns an issue of trust … one in which I fear your sentiments, as well as mine, have been sadly misplaced." "I shall hasten to you as soon as I arrive, my Master."

"See that you do, Lord Skywalker," Palpatine said sternly. "The survival of our Empire may depend upon it."

As soon as the channel dropped, the Emperor scowled. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. Vader had clearly gotten to Skywalker first, and twisted the boy's perceptions against him. His apprentice had outmaneuvered him for what, if Palpatine had anything to say about it, was sure to be the last time.

All was not lost, however. Even after all he had done, Vader was still bound by his honor, and that so-called noble trait had played right into the Emperor's hands. His treacherous apprentice had not destroyed the one card that Palpatine knew would reach Anakin, no matter how far gone he seemed. The boy might not trust him anymore, but she was still his weakness. She had _always_ been his weakness.

Everyone had a weakness … everyone except him. Only he had the strength of will to rule the galaxy. If he could not rule, he would make sure that there was nothing left _to_ rule. He would burn the entire galaxy in the fires of his hatred, and no one would be able to stop him, because he held the ultimate power: the power over life and death.

_You will soon see that I cannot be destroyed, my young apprentice. I am the embodiment of the Force; its will is my will. That is what it means to be Emperor. _

That is what it means to be invincible.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _Anakin comes face to face with the Emperor, and must resist Palpatine's best efforts to subvert him from him purpose. Meanwhile, Padme, Sabe, Mace and Yoda struggle to free themselves from the Empire's clutches in time to prevent Anakin from making a fatal mistake, but ultimately their actions may only prove the spark which will unleash the inferno._


	61. The Death of Trust

Hey everyone! I had the majority of this chapter ready two days ago, but writing the last few sentences was much tougher than I expected and took me almost two days (well, that and last-minute Christmas shopping). I hope it turned out all right, as I really wanted to set things up well for the next crucial chapter. Techically, I suppose, all the remaining chapters are crucial, seeing as there are only 5 of them left after this one, but you get the idea.

Thank you everyone who took the time to review! It's great to see that so many people have been willing to be patient with this story. I deeply appreciate it.

Since I probably won't have another post up before Christmas, Happy Holidays all of you! Be safe, and I wish you and your families nothing but the best!

* * *

**Chapter 61**

Coruscant had descended into anarchy. Whatever illusions of peace and stability the Emperor had imposed upon the galactic capital were now completely dispelled as in the streets before the Imperial Palace, a pitched battle raged. In the beginning, the number of Rebel fighters aligned against the house of tyranny had numbered over one hundred thousand. Now, however, though the battle had been dragging on for hours and thousands of them had fallen, their numbers had actually swelled. Ordinary citizens who had previously been too intimidated to venture out of their front doors were now joining the throng in droves, seizing everything from blaster rifles to lengths of metal pipe to brandish against the soldiers. Galvanized into a frenzy by the disappearance of their revered Leader and the prospect of striking a definitive blow against the hated Emperor, the resistance fighters charged forward without regard for life or limb, and even the impeccably trained stormtroopers were hard-pressed to keep from being driven backwards in a rout.

From high above Coruscant's surface, Anakin Skywalker watched the tumultuous scene with a dispassionate eye. His shuttle had passed over the fray as he circled the Imperial Palace looking for a place to land, and while he could not distinguish the individuals locked in mortal combat on both sides, he could sense them all. The fiery determination of the Rebels and the cold, purposeful mindset of the clones saturated the Force around him, creating a swirling vortex of perceptions that stood out as vividly as a scar. It was the antithesis of the balance he sought to bring about, but it would soon be brought to an end. Palpatine was the key, and his death would usher in a resolution to the conflict – one way or another.

However, the chaos would have to endure for a while longer. Anakin could not act to fulfill his objective until Vader joined him, and the Dark Lord of the Sith was currently occupied with securing the final loose ends of the net that would ensure stability, and not further conflict, when the shift in power was complete.

Until he arrived, Anakin was going to have to wait, and stave off any attempts by the lecherous old fool to dissuade him from his task. It would not be easy, and he needed to clear his mind completely if he was to dispose of any weapons that Palpatine might be able to use against him. So the former Jedi withdrew into his thoughts and cut himself off from the battle, banishing the prospect of life and death and any distractions they might have carried from his conscience. He could do nothing for them at the moment. He had to focus on what he was before him now … on what he could control.

He brought the shuttle to a smooth landing on a high security landing pad adjacent to the Emperor's throne room, the same one Vader had brought him to following his surrender a few short weeks ago. Then, as now, Anakin had known exactly what he had come to do. But now the stakes were much higher, and the road ahead was more treacherous. He would need to be wary.

Anakin descended the boarding ramp quickly and made his way towards the turbolift under the darkening sky. He brushed past the two red-robed Royal Guards as though they did not exist and sealed himself in the car alone, beginning his ascent towards the master of the galaxy.

He was not nervous, but there was a tingling sensation building in his chest, the spark of anticipation that preceeded a major battle. This would not be like any conventional battle he had taken part in, however. His opponent was slippery and many-faced, a master of deception and manipulation. His attacks would not be straightforward blows that he could counter, and he would almost certainly not play fair. Anakin's fingers brushed the hilt of his lightsaber instinctively. Despite what Vader had said, he could not afford to trade verbal spars with the Emperor for too long. Palpatine was too skilled, and this was his territory – he would undoubtedly try to lure his erstwhile apprentice into a trap. If Anakin saw an opening in Palpatine's guard, he was going to take it. A quick thrust to the heart would silence the old man's insidious whispers forever.

The turbolift ground to a halt and the doors opened. Anakin straightened himself to his full height and swept past another pair of Royal Guards, up the stairs and onto the main reception platform of the Emperor's throne room.

Palpatine was seated his ornate chair, his gnarled hands gripping its arms and his malevolent face shrouded in shadow. He looked old, frail, and utterly defenseless. It was an illusion, Anakin knew, one of his most effective. The Emperor was anticipating his intentions, as Vader had foreseen, and hoped to lure the younger man into a making a crucial misstep early in the proceedings, which he could then exploit. It was a clever maneuver, but Anakin would not take the bait.

The "Chosen One" stopped about ten paces from the Emperor and bowed as shallowly as he could without implying flagrant disrespect. He did not want to acknowledge the Emperor's power, but it would not do to provoke Palpatine into a rage before he was ready to weather the storm. The Emperor leaned forward in his throne and spoke.

"Welcome back, my young apprentice. I am pleased to see that you have hastened here, as I commanded."

Anakin inclined his head fractionally. "You said that you had an issue of great importance to discuss, My Master. I did not wish to keep you waiting."

"Indeed," the Emperor nodded. "I do have such an issue to discuss with you, one that relates very closely to both the future of this Empire, and you, Anakin. It is an issue of security … and of trust."

Anakin remained silent, waiting for Palpatine to elaborate. He knew the direction that Palpatine intended to take this, but that didn't mean he had to help him get there.

After waiting for a moment and realizing that Anakin was not going to respond, the Emperor spoke again. "I have labored long and hard to create an uncorrupt system of government, one under which all citizens may feel safe. By disbanding the Senate and the trade guilds and taking on all responsibilities of governing, I have eliminated the conflicting interests and indecision which brought the Old Republic to its knees. But now there is a threat rising to destroy all that I have built, and it comes from within the Empire itself – from the darkness of my innermost circle."

Anakin's posture was purely relaxed as he met the Sith Lord's gaze evenly. "And what is this threat, My Master?"

Palpatine's eyes flashed, and his gnarled white hands tightened on the arms of his throne. "Vader. My former master has decided that he would make a better Emperor than I. He has been plotting against me for months, undermining me at every turn."

Anakin did not react, and he knew that Palpatine would not have expected him to. He clearly knew that Anakin was heavily involved in Vader's plan. Beneath the cowl of his robe, the smallest hint of a smile rose onto his cold lips.

"Surely Your Grace is mistaken. Lord Vader has been a loyal servant of the Empire for many years."

"Do not toy with me, my young apprentice," Palpatine said harshly. "I know that you know of his plans. I know that he has sought to include you in them."

Anakin shrugged carelessly. There was no point contesting an established fact. "He has approached me, yes."

The Emperor lowered his voice dangerously. "And have you aided him in these plans?"

"My Master need not trouble himself with such speculation," Anakin replied evenly, knowing full well that such a circular answer would only bait Palpatine further. "I am honored to serve you."

"Are you?" Palpatine asked scathingly. "It is well that you should acknowledge such a privilege. Considering all that I have done for you and taught you, I should hope that you would be grateful. I should hope that you would … trust me."

Anakin clenched his teeth unconsciously in an unseen snarl. Few statements could have been more incendiary than that one. He had trusted Palpatine unconditionally, and the results had proved to be disastrous. Vader was right; Palpatine was trying to reach the so-called triggers that would shatter his sense of purpose and provoke him into irrationality. There was nothing he could say at that moment that would not play right into Palpatine's hands, so he opted for most neutral response he could devise.

"I trust in the sanctity of the Empire's purpose … My Master."

"Ah." Palpatine's eyes narrowed in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, and he leaned forward even further in his throne. "It is as I suspected, then. You don't believe that I have the Empire's best interests at heart, do you? You think that this government … which _I_ created … would be more effective if there were … someone else on the throne?"

Anakin's icy blue eyes met the Sith Lord's sickly orange ones without blinking. "The Empire has not reached its full potential yet, My Master. There is a war on your doorstep to prove it."

Palpatine's eyes flashed with barely contained malice, and he settled back into his throne, an ugly expression on his twisted face. Anakin remained perfectly still, the smallest hint of a smile touching his lips. This was dangerous territory, but Palpatine had to know that he wasn't going to get it all his own way. If he was going to throw daggers, he had better be prepared to dodge a few in return.

"I have a question for you, my young apprentice. It is one which I should have posed to you weeks ago, when you first stood here, kneeling before me. I did not raise it then, but now I fear that we can go no further unless I obtained a satisfactory answer."

Anakin raised a half-mocking eyebrow. "And that is?"

Palpatine rose out of his throne and descended the short flight of steps so that he and Anakin now stood on the same level, about ten paces apart. "Why, after rebuffing my kind offers to show you power you could only imagine, after running from me for over five years, did you suddenly have a change of heart and allow yourself to be brought here to enter my service? What was your reasoning for finally casting aside the misguided illusions of the Jedi and embracing your true destiny on the Dark Side of the Force?"

Anakin remained still, watching the Emperor with piercing eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand you. I have harbored no misguided Jedi illusions for years. It merely took my capture to open my eyes to the path you foretold I would take long ago."

"Come, Anakin, let us have no more lies between us," Palpatine hissed, advancing menacingly towards his erstwhile apprentice. Anakin's hand strayed slowly towards the lightsaber hidden in the folds of his cloak. "You are here because you cut a deal with Vader, are you not? You reached out to the man who has _twice_ betrayed your trust in him and told him that if he let your dear traitor wife escape the Empire's clutches, you would turn yourself in and assist him in whatever misguided scheme he has concocted to depose me. You have let this perceived debt cloud your sense of truth and nearly lead you into making a serious, potentially fatal mistake!"

The Emperor was standing only two meters away now, just within the reach of Anakin's lightsaber. The former Jedi grasped the hilt of his blade and placed his thumb upon the ignition switch. One more step, and he could draw his blade, ignite it faster than the eye could follow, and draw it across Palpatine's throat before the raving old man could summon his power to defend himself. One more step was all it would take. Before he could gather himself for the strike that would end the Emperor's life, however, Palpatine spoke again and his words arrested the muscles in Anakin's arm, forcing him to listen.

"Tell me, Anakin, do you know where your wife is?"

Anakin stood stock still, unable to move or even breathe. Despite the iron resolve he had gathered to banish traces of Padmé from his thoughts, her beautiful, caring face rose to the forefront of on angels' wings, driving out all other concerns. He had known that Palpatine would try to use her against him, but he had fallen into the trap anyway. Now, despite the protection he had sacrificed his love to give her, she was under threat again. Anakin's one relief was that he honestly knew nothing that Palpatine could pry from him to get to her – or his children.

"No." He found his voice, and what escaped his lips was the first pure truth he had spoken in weeks. "I have no idea."

Palpatine smiled evilly. "I thought not. You probably thought … or hoped … that she had taken the amnesty you bought for her and hidden on some remote Outer Rim world far beyond the reach of any of my agents, didn't you?"

Anakin had been hoping that … knowing Padmé, her unquenchable spirit meant that the chances of that actually being the case were almost zero. However, he had hoped that with him gone, she might have tempered her resolve for the sake of their children and whisked what remained of their broken family off to some place out of the Empire's line of fire - Naboo or Tatooine or Alderaan …

Anakin's heart clenched painfully. No, she couldn't be on Alderaan. He knew what Palpatine had in store for that world. She couldn't be …

"No, she's not on Alderaan," Palpatine said smoothly, and Anakin realized that in his moment of panic his mental shields had slipped. He immediately threw them back up again. "She's much closer than you would have dared to think. In fact, she is on Coruscant, in this palace, wasting away in an interrogation cell – right now."

Time seem to have stood still for Anakin. Palpatine's leering face had filled his vision, superimposing itself on top of Padmé's body in the throes of imagined agony. Something dark streaked across Anakin's ice blue eyes as he bared his teeth and took a threatening step towards Palpatine, lightsaber in hand.

"You _lie_."

Despite the threat of imminent death looming over him, Palpatine did not back away. "I vowed that there would be no more lies between us, Anakin. Padmé is here, in Imperial custody as a traitor, but it is not of my doing. Someone has betrayed your trust … and your wife suffers for it."

"Who?" Anakin spat.

The Emperor smiled triumphantly. "Vader."

The Dark Lord of the Sith's warning about the triggers leading to irrationality echoed in the back of Anakin's thoughts, but in a burst of rage he shut it out. He wanted the truth, and he would get it – by any means necessary.

A cold sneer crept onto the former Jedi's lips, filled with so much spite and scorn that even the Emperor's smile faded before it. Anakin's voice dropped to a level barely above a whisper, but the implicit threat it carried was greater than any yell could ever convey. He could have sworn he saw Palpatine flinch.

"I don't believe you."

"I can show you," Palpatine said tersely. "Follow me."

He walked back towards his throne, not quite turning his back upon the younger man as he did so. Anakin followed him, watching the Emperor like a hawk. Any sudden moves the Sith Lord made would be his last.

Palpatine activated the hologram projector in the arm of his throne with a wave of his hand. A series of disjointed images flashed by until they finally condensed into one clear picture: a young woman curled up on the bench of a tiny Imperial detention cell, her clothing torn and an assortment of fresh scars and bruises clearly visible on her face. Padmé.

A sharp sensation pierced Anakin's heart, followed by a wave of anger. He knew that this image was no lie – Padmé's pain and fear were tangible in his mind. He rounded on Palpatine, eyes flashing dangerously. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, my friend," Palpatine said calmly. "In processing her, Lord Vader has not adhered to any of the procedures typically taken with our high-level prisoners. After all, she is nothing to him."

Anakin's eyes narrowed. Something lay behind Palpatine's last words – some crucial meaning that was being overlooked. "What are you talking about?"

"Lower your shields," the Emperor said enticingly. "I want to show you the events surrounding your wife's capture. I think you will find them most … illuminating."

Anakin leveled a threatening finger at Palpatine's face. "No. I'm not letting you anywhere near my thoughts."

"I will not touch your thoughts," Palpatine told him earnestly. "I know better than to try. If I attempt to subvert you through the Force, you will sense it and counter with an attack so potent it will leave me helpless. I merely wish to show you the past … and all it holds."

Anakin's instincts screamed at him not to listen, to draw his lightsaber and silence Palpatine before he could bring his already crumbling sense of reality down further. What the Emperor wanted to show him was something he did not want to know, something that he knew would push him over the edge. But he couldn't not watch. He couldn't not know. His entire life had been a maze of lies and partial truths, and he had accepted it because there was nothing more painful than the real truth. He had learned that when he came to terms with the true meaning of the prophecy, but he had survived and was stronger for it. He would survive what the past held for him now.

The former Jedi opened the smallest possible chink in his formidable mental shields, making sure to seal off anything that the Emperor might be able to use against him – most importantly, the existence of his children. Palptaine's dark presence rose up and gave him a small nudge, and suddenly Anakin was falling through a whirlwind of color and sound …

He landed beside the Emperor in a vast underground chamber, surrounded by an assortment of fuel tanks, pipelines, and an enormous reactor core. Signs of a recent battle were immediately evident – dead stormtroopers and rebel soldiers littered the ground nearby. Those still standing were positioned as if they were engaged in a tense standoff. Anakin saw Padmé and Sabé, each being restrained by two stormtroopers. Darth Vader was standing over a kneeling and bloody Mace Windu, his lightsaber held a centimeter from the Jedi Master's neck. And a young man in Mandalorian armor stood opposite the Dark Lord, a blaster pistol leveled at his mask. The man was speaking – Anakin leaned in to hear him.

"Back off, Lord Vader. That kill is mine."

"I have as much to desire vengeance upon this Jedi as you, young Fett." Vader retorted calmly. "You should not care who delivers the final stroke as long as justice is served."

"He killed my father," Fett spat. "I swore that I would avenge his death by my own hand. Whatever claim you have pales to mine."

"You presume much, young Fett."

"I presume nothing," the Mandalorian countered. "The cost is too high. I respect your claim, Lord Vader, but if you do not step away now I promise you will regret it."

"I don't like threats, Mandalorian," Vader said coldly. "You would do well to choose your next words carefully."

"I always do."

In a lightning-fast move, Fett's arm shot out and seized Padmé by the neck, drawing her into a chokehold with his blaster pressed to her temple. Anakin snatched his lightsaber from his belt and sprang forward – until he realized that this was a memory and he could do nothing. Instead, he watched helplessly as his wife gasped for breath while Fett addressed himself to Vader. "Give me Windu, or I will burn a hole in Senator Amidala's brain."

Anakin expected Vader to fly into a rage at the sudden turn of events, possibly going so far as to reach out with the Force and snap the Mandalorian's neck. But Vader made no move. On the contrary, he stood perfectly still and spoke with utter coldness and dispassion, imparting words that shook Anakin to his core.

"Tell me – why should I care about the life of a former Senator and Rebel leader?"

Anakin thought he must have misheard. Even after turning to the Dark Side and abandoning all traces of his former identity, Vader had always demonstrated concern for Padmé's well-being. He had even saved her life when Anakin, caught in the throes of an uncontrollable rage, had nearly inadvertently caused her demise. He had sworn to Anakin that he would not allow anything to happen to her. But now Padmé was in immediate danger, strangled in the grip of a man who clearly had nothing to lose, and Vader did not seem to care. He was refusing to acknowledge that he even _knew_ her at all.

"Because," Fett responded, "she is the wife of a very important Jedi. As such, she is of the utmost importance to you … as leverage."

Leverage? Anakin bit into his lip so hard that he inadvertently drew blood. Was that the only reason Vader had agreed to keep Padmé alive? So he could hold her life over Anakin's head if his former apprentice refused to do what he wanted him to do?

Vader gave no indication that Fett's words had moved him. He drew his blade closer to Mace's neck, singeing the Jedi Master's skin. "Tell me, Fett - if what you say is true, why should I not merely disarm you with the Force, slay Master Windu, then have my soldiers take you into custody for attempted subversion?"

Fett grinned coldly. "Do it, Lord Vader. Try your best. Let us test the power of the Force against merely … human skill."

"As tempted as I am to meet your challenge, Fett," Vader said carelessly, still refusing to look at Padmé's terrified face, "I cannot have you dictating terms to me. You cannot expect me to let you go free if you succeed in your goal. It seems that you must decide whether your revenge is worth your life."

Fett did not back down, pressing his blaster harder into Padmé's neck. "And you must decide if yours is worth hers."

Anakin felt a tug on his mind, and the scene dissolved. He found himself standing back in the Emperor's throne room, breathing heavily as though he had just run several miles. Palpatine stood a short distance away, watching the younger man's face closely for a reaction.

Anakin felt as though he had been stabbed. A hot, burning sensation was building in his gut, mixed with the sickening onset of shame. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have believed that Vader, who had demonstrated time and time again that he would stop at nothing to accomplish what he believed needed to be done, would set aside his ultimate goal merely to keep a promise to Anakin? Why had he not realized that in the end, both he and Padmé were merely pawns, expendable pieces to positioned, used, and … when necessary … sacrificed?

Anakin did not even care that Vader had sought to use him; he was used to such manipulation coming at him from all sides. What galled him to the point of perfect rage was that despite all he had suffered at the Dark Lord's hands, he had chosen to trust him with that which he valued more than anything – more than life itself. And Vader, who professed to live and die by an unbreakable code of honor, had broken his word. He had betrayed Anakin in cold blood.

That made his former master no better than the wretched, cruel, hypocritical man whose throne he sought to take.

Emperor Palpatine watched with satisfaction as Anakin's resolved, icy demeanor began to crack, shattered by the mounting inferno that was building from within. It no longer mattered that young apprentice despised him and sought his life. Anakin's rage at his former master would build until there was room for nothing else in his heart. He would consume Vader utterly – and in doing so he would descend so deeply into the fires of the dark side that he would never be able to escape.

"I have business that I must attend to," he announced. Anakin's eyes locked onto him, but the Emperor felt no fear. "I shall return shortly. Stay here and be at ease, my young apprentice. Think about what I have told you. If my instincts are correct, Lord Vader should be arriving to make his report very soon."

He swept past the former Jedi towards the turbolift. Anakin watched the old Sith Lord brush past him, well within the reach of his lightsaber. One quick slash, and the cruel legacy of Darth Sidious would come to an ignoble end. But Anakin did not move, and the Emperor descended the stairs without resistance, disappearing out of sight.

The young man drew his lightsaber and examined its pristine hilt darkly, fire stirring behind his eyes. Palpatine would not live to savor his triumph for long. But there was another life to be taken first, another imbalance to be corrected. The legacy of Vader had brought Anakin nothing but pain, and it was time for it to come to an end.

* * *

Padmé Amidala Skywalker sat alone in her tiny, cramped cell, her head resting on her knees. Bloody, bruised, and disheveled, she looked every inch the helpless prisoner. To the eyes of any observer, the once-proud Senator seemed broken, her legendary confidence shattered and her fiery spirit quenched. A few more rounds of standard Imperial interrogation, and she would be indistinguishable from the broken shells of life wasting away in solitary confinement nearby. But as had often proved the case on the political scene, the young woman's apparent vulnerability was deceiving.

Padmé's mind was alive with activity, her neural activity peaking as ideas sparked along her mental pathways faster than she could keep track of them. In truth, her lack of physical freedom was little inhibition; she was more engaged than she had been in weeks, revived by the possibilities of hope.

It had been the smallest spark that had triggered the resurgence, a verbal cue so subtle that a less perceptive individual might have missed it. It had hinged on a single word, spoken in the present tense, that she had discerned while had been struggling to draw breath in her captor's merciless hold.

_She is the wife of a very important Jedi. As such, she is of the utmost importance to you … as leverage._

Is. Is, not was. The young man who had betrayed their group to the Empire, Boba Fett, had implied that her marital status was current, not a thing of the past. In doing so, he had indirectly asserted that her husband, Anakin, was not dead, but alive.

It was a desperate, clinging allusion – one which could easily have been dismissed. But Darth Vader, almost certainly the last person who had seen Anakin before he had vanished, had made no effort to deny Fett's claim. If he was involved in her husband's disappearance, as Padmé suspected, he had more reason than anyone for doing so, but he had proceeded as if nothing had happened. For Padmé, who had been desperately searching for any indication Anakin might have survived for weeks, the casual sidestep was vindication, as revitalizing as it would have been if Anakin himself had emerged out of thin air.

It was possible that she could have misinterpreted the signs, but the more Padmé thought about, the more sure she became. Why would Vader need her for leverage if Anakin was dead? As terrified as she had been during the standoff, she could not help but feel that Vader had gone out of his way to preserve her life, sacrificing options much more advantageous to his position. She had seen the Dark Lord in action; she had little doubt he could have disarmed Fett before the Mandalorian could pull the trigger. But he had not taken the chance, eliminating the risk that he would be a fraction of a second too slow and so cost Padmé her life. She could think of only two reasons why he would have acted with such caution: lingering affection for her as an old friend, or a need to avert Anakin's rage. The Dark Lord was a man of strict practicality – she strongly suspected it was the latter.

Of course, if Anakin was alive, that raised a whole new set of concerns. It meant that he was either a prisoner of the Emperor, or he had finally succumbed to the Sith Lord's influence and joined the dark side. If the former was the case, then he needed to be rescued somehow. If it was the latter, then he had submitted to a dark and corrosive influence, one so powerful that he had not only turned his back on the Jedi and the Alliance, but he had abandoned her and his children. The thought sickened her, for she knew what the dark side of the Force could do to a man's soul. Anakin had always struggled to resist the call of his inner demons. Breaking their hold over him would not be easy, and she could do nothing while sitting in this cell. Somehow, she needed to get out.

An idea crossed her mind, born of urgency and desperation. Despite their status as key figures in the Alliance, she and her friends had only been placed in minimum-security cells. Vader had been distracted, clearly wanting to process them as soon as possible. Padmé knew that when the officers in charge of the detention block noticed just who they had in their custody, they would undoubtedly try to shift them to higher-security cells. When they did, there would be a small window for her to distract them an attempt an escape. Then she would be free to look for Anakin – albeit in the Emperor's heavily guarded stronghold with stormtroopers around every corner.

It was a risky plan, but it would all be for nothing if the officers didn't move them soon. There had to be some way that she could incite them to make the shift faster.

Padmé reached back and pulled out one of the pins that she had used to secure her long hair. Evidently the Imperials hadn't taken it into account when they stripped her of all her other usual escape tools. This particular accessory was not nearly sophisticated enough to get her out of this cell, but she could definitely use it to get her captors' attention.

She climbed up onto the bench and reached across the cell towards the security camera. With a bit of fumbling, she located the wire leading from the back of the camera into the wall. Using the sharp edge of the pin, she made a quick cut, severing the video cord and in doing so, cutting off visual surveillance of her cell. If that didn't bring the Imperials running, nothing would.

Padmé lay back down on the bench, concealing the pin in her hand. Sure enough, only a minute had gone by before she heard voices and bustling outside.

"Clever thing thought she'd mess with the camera, did she? I knew it was a bad idea to leave them here this long … this little Rebel whore has given us nothing but trouble for years."

The door slid open and a gray-uniformed officer descended the short steps, a stormtrooper flanking him on either side. Padmé recognized him; it was the man who had taken custody of them following their capture. The man was brutal and sadistic, well suited to the job of Imperial cellmaster. Despite strict orders from Vader that the prisoners were not to be touched, the officer had put her and all her surviving allies through a harsh interrogation, from which every muscle in Padmé's body still cried out in pain. Seeing her lying flat on the bench, the cellmaster leered unpleasantly and crossed the cell to stand over Padmé.

"Come on, get up, you little piece of Rebel filth … you weren't so lazy a minute ago when you put our camera out of commission, were you? Try anything else like that and I'll put you through a _real_ interrogation - that little episode an hour ago was just a taster … come on, move!"

He hit Padmé hard across the face. The young woman winced, but she didn't move. She had to draw the officer in closer if she was going to have any chance at pulling this off.

"I'm not in a patient mood today, girl," the cellmaster said acidly. "Guess we're going to do things the hard way …"

He reached over and seized Padmé by the shoulders, intending to yank her forcefully into an upright position. As he extended his body over hers, Padmé acted with lightning speed.

In less than a second, she thrust her left hand upwards and jammed the sharp end of the pin into her tormentor's neck. Ignoring his agonized scream, she used her right hand to snatch the officer's blaster from belt, squeezing off two quick shots that caught the stormtroopers in their chests. The soldiers collapsed instantly.

Face contorted in disgust, Padmé wrenched the pin free of the cellmaster's neck and shoved him off of her with more strength than she knew she possessed. He hit the opposite wall hard and slid down with an agonized gasp. Knowing she had little time before the noise attracted reinforcements, Padmé sprang to her feet and seized the struggling officer by the throat.

"Tell me where the others are," she demanded. "Now!"

Still reeling and struggling for breath, the officer did not seem inclined to resist. "Cells … to the left … and right …"

His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against the wall, either unconscious or dead. Padmé let go and darted out of the cell, snatching the key card from the man's belt as she went.

There were no guards in the corridor, but Padmé knew that would change soon. Unwilling to waste any more time, she swiped her card over the sensor of the door to her immediate right and opened the door.

Sabé sat bolt upright when she saw Padmé framed in the open door. "Padmé, how …?"

"No time," Padmé said shortly. "Come with me."

She ran along to the next cell and opened the door. The two guards standing over Master Windu spun around, but Padmé blasted them before they could raise their rifles to fire. Mace hurried to his feet, the fresh scars on his cheek standing out vividly in the stark light.

"I can't say I'm surprised," he said evenly. "You always do manage to find a way out of the tightest spots."

Padmé smiled at the Jedi Master and shrugged. "I've gotten used to being underestimated."

The two leaders climbed out of the cell back into the hall, where they found Sabé and Master Yoda waiting for them. Sabé held one of the stormtrooper's discarded blaster rifles in her hand, and Yoda showed no obvious ill effects from having been buried under a mountain of rubble by the Dark Lord of the Sith. Sabé looked anxiously at her old friend. "What do we do?"

"Anakin's alive," Padmé said hurriedly. "He's here, in the palace. We've got to find him."

Shock registered on Sabé's face. "Padmé, how do you know?"

"I'll explain later," Padmé told her. "Right now, I feel like we've got about ten seconds before we have to deal with some unwanted company. Mace, Yoda – can either of you sense where Anakin might be?"

The two Jedi Masters stretched out with their perceptions. Almost immediately, they seemed to find what they were looking for.

"Shielding his identity, Anakin is," Yoda said. "But a powerful presence, there is, on the upper levels, shrouded in darkness. Distinct from both Vader and the Emperor, it is."

So Anakin had given into the darkness. Padmé felt her heart sink in her chest, but almost immediately it leapt up again when a blaster bolt shot by her head, so close she could feel the heat. "Get down!"

Stormtroopers had emerged at the far end of the corridor, advancing towards the four escapees and firing in perfect rhythm. Without any substantial cover, Padmé and Sabé flattened themselves against the wall, but Mace and Yoda made no move to do so.

Padmé was about to yell at the two weaponless Jedi to fall back, but before she could, they stretched out their arms and sent a concentrated Force wave at their adversaries. All ten stormtroopers were swept off their feet and slammed into the nearest walls, knocking the whole group out of commission as soon as they had appeared.

"If Anakin has joined the dark side," Mace said evenly, as though nothing had happened. "Then the Emperor will want to keep him close. I feel that the throne room is our best bet."

"We'll have to be careful, then," Padmé said. "Knowing Palpatine, he's probably got half a legion up there to cover his back."

"Not necessarily," Sabé reminded her. "Most of the Imperial Guard has probably bent sent out front to fight the rest of Master Windu's army. I wouldn't be surprised if our road is easier than we might usually expect."

Keeping her blaster raised and her head on a swivel, Padmé started off down the detention corridor. "For our sake … and Anakin's … I hope you're right."

* * *

Sabé's words proved to be prophetic: they met surprisingly little resistance on their way to the throne room. Those few patrols they did meet were easily dispatched by the Jedis' powers and the two women's precise shooting. As they ascended, the sounds of the raging battle taking place outside grew louder, and Padmé judged that far from making their forces lose heart, the disappearance of the Leader seemed to have galvanized the rebels – they were fighting with even greater intensity than before. Perhaps there was hope of victory after all, but at the moment they could do nothing for their friends. They had to find Anakin.

The resistance mounted as they reached the upper levels and began to encounter the Emperor's Royal Guards, but though their progress was slowed, it could not be stopped. Before long, the four freedom fighters found themselves in front of a reinforced turbolift leading up to the Emperor's personal quarters and his throne. The lift was protected by a fourteen digit passcode, but with the help of Mace's adept "persuasion" techniques, they were able to pry the code from one of the surviving guards and access the turbolift with little further trouble.

"That was … surprisingly easy," Sabé said hesitantly once they were all sealed inside the lift and the car had begun to ascend. "I mean, I was expecting there wouldn't be the usual amount of resistance, but that almost felt like they let us through."

Padmé tightened her grip on her stolen blaster. Palpatine had anticipated them at every turn so far; they had no reason not to expect that they were not falling into another one of his intricately designed traps. There was a very real chance that Anakin was not here at all, and that all that they would find once the turbolift doors opened was the Emperor himself, waiting for them with a cackle and a squadron of elite stormtroopers. But they had little choice; if Anakin needed to be pulled back from the depths of the darkness, she knew that she was the only one that could reach him. He was her beloved husband, who she loved more than anything in the galaxy. When she had been at her worst, hovering on the edge of death and despair, he had been there for her. She owed him no less.

The lift ground to a halt. Padmé tensed, trying to keep her body steady as she struggled with anticipation and fear of what might await her once the doors opened. "Be ready," she whispered to her friends,, but also to herself. "Be ready for anything."

The door slide aside. Padmé stepped out, and almost immediately had to throw herself to the ground to avoid the force pikes which swung in at head height. Mace and Yoda leapt out of the car and dispatched the two Royal Guards before they could strike again, giving Padmé a chance to jump back to her feet and cast a quick glance around for any further sign of danger.

There was no sign of Palpatine, but at the top of the stairs, a man in a dark cloak had spun around to face the intrusion. With a familiar snap-hiss, a brilliant blue blade sprang to life in his hand. Her heart leaping, Padmé bounded up the stairs, all thoughts of danger evaporating from her mind as she waved both hands frantically in the air. "Anakin!"

The man froze, lightsaber half-raised to strike. "Padmé?"

Padmé could have collapsed, crying in simultaneous joy and relief. The sound of her husband's voice was unmistakable. This was real, not an imagined vision of her heart's dearest wish. She had not been dreaming – her hopes had not been in vain. Her Anakin was alive!

Anakin hurriedly deactivated his lightsaber and pulled off his hood, revealing the face she loved and knew so well. He extended his arms just in time to catch Padmé as she reached the top of the stairs and threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly that she drove all the breath from his body.

"Padmé," Anakin gasped as he struggled to draw air into his compressed lungs. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm all right, Ani!" Padmé exclaimed as tears gathered in her eyes. "How could I not be all right - you're alive! When I woke up and you weren't there, I … I was so worried – I thought that you might be …"

"Padmé," a firm voice said from behind her. "Step away from him."

Padmé tore her eyes away from her husband's face long enough to look over her shoulder. Sabé, Mace, and Yoda were standing there, and none of them looked nearly as happy to see Anakin alive and well as Padmé was. On the contrary, they were standing in tense, combat-ready positions, as though her husband represented an immediate threat.

"Sabé?" Padmé asked, not letting go of Anakin. "Master Windu? What …?"

"Remember what we said about the darkness surrounding your husband, Padmé," Mace said with complete seriousness. "Something has changed."

"Get back, Padmé," Sabé said tensely. "Before we welcome Anakin back, let's hear a damn good explanation for why he hasn't contacted you since he vanished, and what he's doing in the Emperor's throne room … alone."

Padmé looked up into her husband's face and saw to her surprise that he was looking directly at Sabé and the two Jedi Masters with a cold, calculating expression. There was no trace of warmth or friendliness in his ice blue eyes – he looked utterly serious.

"Padmé," he said quietly. "I think you'd better do as they say."

"What?" Padmé asked incredulously. "Ani, no …"

Anakin gently reached behind him and unlocked Padmé's hands, freeing himself free from her embrace. Padmé's arms fell limply to her sides as her husband slipped away, and she stared up at his suddenly unfamiliar face, both confused and deeply hurt. "Anakin, what's going on?"

Anakin did not seem to have heard her. He cast a surreptitious glance around the throne room, then returned his gaze to his wife, his eyes harsh and judgmental.

"Why did you come here?"

Padmé could not believe that Anakin would ask such a question. "Why would I come here? Ani, why _wouldn't_ I come here? I found out you were still alive, I had to come rescue you …"

"I don't need to be rescued," Anakin said flatly. "Padmé, you have no idea what you've done."

"What _I've_ done?" Padmé echoed. Her joy at seeing Anakin again was quickly fading, replaced by confusion at his bewildering behavior and anger at him for being so short with her. "Anakin, what did you expect? That you'd disappear off the face of the galaxy and I wouldn't notice? That you'd fall into the Empire's hands and I wouldn't care?"

"You should have stayed away," Anakin told her. "You should have stayed where you'd be safe … and not walked right into Vader's hands."

"I'm your wife, Anakin!" Padmé exclaimed. "You know me better than anyone. You know I'm not the type to stand on the sidelines while there's a battle to be fought, or if those I love are in danger! There are more important things in this galaxy than my safety."

"No, there aren't," Anakin said coldly. "That's why I consented to this arrangement in the first place."

Padmé felt as though she'd been struck. She took an involuntary step away from Anakin, staring at the unforgiving face of her husband as though she were seeing him for the first time. "You did _what_? Anakin, I don't understand."

"I distanced myself from you to protect you, Padmé," Anakin told her. "I made a deal with Vader: I would join him if he would stop the Empire from hunting you and grant you protection - the protection that I could never give you."

Sabé gasped. Padmé, still reeling from the previous unexpected revelation, now felt as though a hot knife were being plunged into her heart and twisted painfully with every word that Anakin spoke. She had been wrong – the man in front of her now was not her husband. He was a complete stranger.

"You made a deal with Vader?" she choked out, tears now gathering in her eyes for an entirely different reason. "You abandoned me and your children and signed yourself over to the Sith just to protect us? What were you thinking?"

Anakin's face darkened, and something deadly stirred behind his eyes. "I was thinking that Vader would keep his word. But he betrayed me. He captured you and threw away your life like you were nothing to him."

"And can you honestly say that you did any better?" Padmé cried, struggling to force out the words past the pieces of her breaking heart. "You cast me aside without any regard for my happiness, what I wanted! That's a betrayal, Anakin, a betrayal of our marriage and our love. By you!"

"Vader get to you, too?" Anakin demanded coldly. "He beat that idea into you while he was torturing you in that cell?"

"Vader didn't hurt me, Anakin," Padmé said defiantly. "But you are – right now. Look what the dark side's done to you! It's turned you into someone I don't even know! Anakin, you've become a Sith!"  
"Yes," a new voice proclaimed, a triumphant cackle mingling with its words. "And a powerful one at that."

Emperor Palpatine had just emerged from the turbolift, flanked by six red-robed Royal Guards. He ascended the stairs nimbly and the Guards followed, descending upon Sabé and the weaponless Jedi, taking them into custody before they could mount any vestige of resistance. The Emperor surveyed the tense scene with a kind of malevolent glee that stretched his twisted face to point of insanity. "Ah, what a pleasure it is to see old friends again. Master Windu and Master Yoda – two relics of lost time here to bear witness to the beginning of a glorious new era! Lady Naberrie, faithfully if foolishly pursuing her dreams of happiness. And the Skywalkers reunite at last, though I'm sure under rather different circumstances than you would have liked, my dear Padmé."

Padmé snatched her blaster from her belt and leveled it at the Emperor's leering face, her brown eyes burning with the utmost hatred. "What have you done to my husband, you fiend?"

"I?" Palpatine asked carelessly, adopting an air of innocence which did not suit him. "I have done nothing. Anakin has come to his current understanding of his destiny on his own, with some help from the dubious dealings of his former master. If you do not believe me, wait – his arrival is imminent."

Realizing that she could do nothing against the demented Sith Lord, Padmé spun back towards Anakin and seized his arms, forcing him to look at her. She wanted nothing more than to get through to him, but she knew that she would have only seconds to do so. "Anakin, please … stop this. Forget any deal you may have made. It's over. Just come away with me now, before I lose you again, before you slip any further away. Please … I love you!"

For a moment, she reached him. Anakin's face softened, and his blue eyes regained the caring, reflective look that she loved. She could feel warmth returning to his heart and soul and felt a rush of hope …

Then, without any warning, Anakin's eyes flooded with rage. His face contorted into a hateful snarl and his entire body tensed. He seemed to have forgotten that Padmé was even there as he turned his murderous gaze upon the open turbolift door – and the figure who had just emerged.

"_YOU_!"

Darth Vader stood framed in the entrance to the throne room, as tall and imposing as ever. The death-like rattle of his automatic breathing filled the air and his eyes, hidden behind his soulless black mask, surveyed the room and its occupants with calculating coldness. His gaze came to rest on Anakin, who was standing at the top of the stairs, shaking with rage.

"I trusted you, Vader," Anakin snarled. "After everything you've done, I trusted you to uphold your end of the deal. I trusted you with my wife's freedom, with her safety, with her life. And you betrayed me. Just like you betrayed the Jedi. Just like you betrayed everyone."

Vader shifted his gaze his gaze to Padmé, who was still standing close to Anakin, anguish and fear crossing her face. He glanced over Sabé, Mace, and Yoda in the clutches of the Royal Guards. Finally, he looked to Palpatine, who was watching the scene with cruel anticipation. The younger Sith's gloved hands clenched momentarily, indicating for the briefest instant an incredibly rare loss of control.

Clearly sensing his apprentice's tightly contained fury at his duplicity, Palpatine cackled. "Treachery is a dangerous game, my apprentice. And you are not ready to be the master."

Vader did not respond to the taunt. Instead, he ascended the stairs slowly with a deliberate purpose. The Emperor smoothly yet hastily withdrew to his throne behind the line of Royal Guards, two of whom leveled their force pikes at Vader, silently demanding him to halt.

Vader ignored them as well. The Sith Lord returned his gaze to Anakin, and as he drew level he spoke, his usually cavernous voice barely above a whisper and filled with malice.

"You _fool_. I warned you about what he would do, what it would come to if you couldn't close your mind to his influence. Yet you let yourself be twisted. You remain every bit as naïve as the nine-year old boy the Jedi found on Tatooine all those years ago."

"The twisting was your doing," Anakin snarled, pushing Padmé away from him and circling towards Vader like a hawk descending upon its prey. "Your word and your honor are worth no more to you than the lives of those who stand in your way – nothing."

"No life is more important than the balance, Anakin," Vader retorted. "You have never understood that. Time and time again you set your own concerns ahead of the interest of the Force, and that is why you fail."

"My only failure," Anakin hissed, a red gleam building in the depths of his cold blue eyes, "was not killing you when I had the chance."

"I have no time for this babble," Vader snarled. "Justice must be dispensed. If you will not see reason, then I will execute the will of the Force alone."

He sidestepped his former apprentice and headed straight for Palpatine's throne. Two Royal Guards immediately lunged toward him. Reacting quickly and contemptuously, Vader stretched out a tightly clenched fist out in front of him and made a short, violent gesture. There were two sickening cracks and the Royal Guards collapsed to the floor, their necks mercilessly broken.

Vader stepped over the corpses as though they were not even there and strode forward again. Anakin sprang into the air and landed between him and Palpatine's throne, his lightsaber ignited and its searing point directed at the Dark Lord's chest.

"No," Anakin said harshly. "You're not going anywhere unless you go through me."

"I will not let you stand in the way of what needs to be done, Anakin," Vader said dangerously, drawing his own lightsaber and igniting it. The blade's blood red color reflected sinisterly off his armor. "If you do not get out of my way, then I will kill you … and your wife, if she tries to shield you."

Anakin's lip curled with contempt. "All in the name of the greater good?"

"No," Vader told him. "In the name of justice … in the name of the Empire."

"Stop!" Padmé cried out, positioning herself between the two men in one last desperate attempt to avert the disaster she knew was coming. "Anakin, please! This is wrong, all wrong! Don't give in!"

Neither Anakin nor Vader gave any heed to Padmé's desperate plea. One of them … no one could tell who … used the Force to brutally shove her out of the way, into the arms of the waiting Royal Guards. The passionate young senator was dragged over to stand next to Sabé, Mace, and Yoda. All of them watched, helpless and horrified, as the two men who had once been closer than brothers began to circle one another, their minds bent only upon the intent to kill. There was nothing left between Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader … nothing save five meters of empty space and a long, bitter history of blood and betrayal.

"No mercy this time, Skywalker," Vader said coldly. "To the end."

"Yes," Anakin spat, his eyes glowing with suppressed malice. "Your end."

Beneath his mask, Vader's mouth curled into a determined sneer. "We shall see."

Vader rushed forward, his lightsaber seeking Anakin's heart. The former Jedi lunged in to meet him. The two met with a titanic clash that shook the foundations of the throne room itself. Power crackled in the air around them, a tangible storm building in the heart of the Force as both men sought to reach depths of their power that had never before been fathomed. Nothing would be held back. Master and apprentice, Jedi and Sith … none of it mattered anymore. There would be no quarter, no lingering sentiments of affection. There would be nothing to distract either combatant from their ultimate objective. The two men of destiny had entered their final contest … and it would only be decided by death.

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _The final duel between Anakin and Vader. Turned against one another by treachery, neither master nor apprentice holds anything back, unleashing the full power of the dark side in a focused effort to destroy the other. In the bitter end, only one will emerge victorious ... and face a choice that will determine not only his own destiny, but the fate of the galaxy and the balance of the Force itself._


	62. The Shadow of Vader

Darth Vastor here - holiday greetings to all and welcome to 2008! I hope everyone here had a safe, wonderful Christmas and a New Year's Eve. I personally had a great 2007 and I feel that 2008 is going to be a very big year, so I am eager to get things started.

There is, however, one order of business that I need to attend to first: that would be finishing this story. Because it took me nine days to write the chapter posted below, things aren't looking good for finishing this story before break ends and I head back to school for the winter quarter. This means, to my great disappointment, that I will probably have to take another layoff from this story for a few weeks. I'm very sorry about this, but unfortunately writing can be a very time consuming process, and there are inevitably other things that get in the way. I feel that I might be able to get one more chapter done if I push myself, but there are a lot of story lines to wrap up, and it will take time to bring them all to a satisfying conclusion. I'm afraid that I must ask for your patience, which you have been so generous in granting me, one more time.

After you have read this chapter, there will only be four more left. During that time, I will be working hard to tie together all the characters and plotlines, including the space battles, which I have unfortunately neglected for the past two chapters. I hope you will enjoy them, and I will work hard to make sure everything comes together the way it should.

All right, onto this chapter. It's heavy on the action (obviously), but it was the later parts of the chapter that took me the most time to write - when tragedy strikes. It may be difficult to get past some of the violence, but I hope you will see it through to the end.

Thank you to everyone for your amazing reviews, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 62**

_Treachery is the way of the Sith_.

It was a maxim upheld by centuries of thought and action, an idea even more integral to the philosophy of the Order than the Rule of Two. It was a law so deeply enmeshed within the Sith code that it was impossible to extricate the two, and as the Sith had shaped the destiny of the galaxy, so the rule of treachery had shaped the destiny of the Sith. In accordance with the dark but sacred principle, hundreds of generations of apprentices had plotted to overthrow their masters, and bitter rivals had sought to destroy one another. One could not claim the ultimate power of the Force unless they were willing to destroy anyone who dared to stand in their way.

Very seldom was there a personal element for the architect behind the betrayal. The overriding motive was nearly always an unquenchable lust for greater power. This was because most Sith chose to cut themselves off from any relationships that might give them cause for hesitation when, as was inevitably necessary, the other must be sacrificed. On those rare occasions when there was a true connection between the combatants, the conflicting emotions that the battle inspired created a storm great enough to tear a rift in the Force itself.

Such was the case with Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader. Never before had the galaxy seen two beings of such incredible power face off against one another with so much at stake, and it never would again. One of the deepest friendships the galaxy had ever known had given way to pure enmity, and the results were to prove terrifying.

Padmé and Sabé watched in unspeakable horror as the men they loved descended into the fires of absolute hatred. Every strike was to prove a painful thrust through their hearts, but they were utterly powerless to act. Even Emperor Palpatine, who through his devious manipulations had turned the two titans against one another, was standing well back, aware that there was no place for him in the conflict. The Jedi Knight and the Dark Lord of the Sith would stop at nothing to destroy one another … or anyone who dared to stand in their way.

Anakin drew his blade up and across, unleashing his rage with a devastating opening slash. The strike, aimed at Vader's neck, would have been far too fast to block if the Dark Lord had relied on his eyes. Instead, Vader allowed the Force to guide his weapon up, turning the killing beam aside mere centimeters from his throat. He stepped to the side and then rotated his wrist, freeing his blade for an equally vicious slash at Anakin's unprotected torso. The Jedi smoothly retracted his weapon and settled back into perfect defensive position, sparing himself from the attack.

Vader swung again, keen to keep his opponent on the defensive. Anakin countered the slash and riposted, knocking Vader's blade up and away. He sought to reach the area between the Dark Lord's chest and shoulder plates, a momentary opening his guard. Vader reacted quickly, stepping back and stabbing down, intercepting the Jedi's blade before he could draw first blood. The thunderous clash of their weapons reflected Anakin's failure.

The Jedi snarled and unleashed a powerful slash from left hip to right shoulder. Vader expertly repositioned himself to block the high stroke, but he quickly realized it was nothing but a clever feint. Anakin stabbed straight out, forcing the Dark Lord to take a step back. He rushed forward and snapped his right leg straight out, delivering a crushing blow to Vader's chest.

Vader staggered backward, smashing into a long rail that ran along the edge of the level platform. Anakin pressed his advantage, seeking to deliver an even more powerful follow-up strike, one which would either disarm Vader or knock him back over the edge.

Shaking off the punishing blow far quicker than he should have, Vader straightened and pushed off from the rail in time to intercept Anakin's lightsaber as it arced in towards his throat. He put so much power into his counter that Anakin, despite having built up considerable momentum, was knocked a full pace backward.

Building off the momentum of his previous strike, Vader lunged forward, raising his blade up for a crushing blow directed at Anakin's head. Anakin raised his own blade above his head to parry. The force of the Dark Lord's murderous strike nearly drove the Jedi's blade back into his skull. Anakin's arms shook from the impact and the strain of staving off death, but he did not give way. By contrast, his eyes flickered from blue to brilliant orange and a savage hiss escaped his lips, foretelling the beast longing to burst forth from the depths of his former apprentice's soul.

Matching his fury, Vader slashed viciously at Anakin's legs. The Jedi leapt into the air, vaulting over the scything blade … just as Vader had anticipated. The Sith Lord reversed his grip drew his blade back across Anakin's guard, making contact with his adversary's weapon before he had the chance to land.

Anakin was sent flying backwards, crashing into the ground a few meters away. Vader used the Force to give himself a burst of speed, reaching the Jedi before he could rise. He brought his blade down hard, seeking to knock the Jedi's weapon out of his hand and open the way for a killing strike. Anakin raised his right arm straight above him to block the strike, and though he just managed to hold onto his lightsaber, the force of impact sent him back down to the ground at Vader's feet.

Vader stabbed straight down, attempting to impale his former apprentice through the heart. Realizing in a fraction of an instant that he would never be able to block the attack, Anakin rolled to his right, and Vader's blade sank into the durasteel floor centimeters away from its target. The Dark Lord quickly ripped his weapon free to gear up for another attempt, but he would not get the chance.

Anakin snapped his legs together, scissoring Vader's feet from under him. With no time to draw upon the Force, the Dark Lord lost his balance and fell hard to the floor. Anakin sprang to his feet and drew his lightsaber back across his right shoulder, readying himself for a downward slash that would sever the Dark Lord's head as he tried to rise. Anticipating the tactic, Vader pushed himself up with his left hand and used his right to hold blade crossways across his own throat, in position to intercept the strike as it fell.

The blades clashed and Vader's mechanically reinforced arm quaked from the force of impact, but he kept his guard intact. On one knee, the Dark Lord held off the Jedi's two-handed strike. The muscles in Anakin's arms tensed as he sought to break through his enemy's shield, but Vader held firm and gradually began to push his former apprentice's blade away.

Abandoning his efforts, Anakin vaulted into the air, somersaulting over Vader as he sought to reach the Dark Lord's unprotected back. Unable to turn in time, Vader thrust his blade behind his back to shield himself as the Jedi landed. Then he reached into the Force and pushed, delivering a punch to Anakin's chest that drove the air from the Jedi's lungs and forced him to take a moment to recover.

That moment was all Vader needed. He pushed himself to his feet, spun around, and charged forward, pressing his advantage. A series of powerful strokes followed, and Anakin was forced to retreat as he worked hard to stave them off.

The pitched conflict resembled their two previous battles with its sheer ferocity and its constantly shifting nature, but in terms of individual styles there was an importance difference. In their earlier duels, Anakin's youth and more aggressive Djem So fighting style had combined to give him the edge in unadulterated physical strength, an advantage which Vader could not equal. When his former master had gained the upper hand, the Jedi had used this advantage to force his way out of situations in which he found himself on the defensive, smashing through the Dark Lord's suffocating wall of quick slashes and parries with a few well placed strokes. Each blow took an enormous amount of energy to resist, and the drain on Vader's endurance had created opportunities for Anakin to strike.

That advantage was gone now. With his limbs augmented by mechanical replacements and his physiology dramatically reshaped by life-support technology, Vader now far outstripped Anakin in both endurance and raw physical power. Even bolstered by his vast potential in the Force, Anakin found himself hard pressed to turn aside Vader's absolutely devastating strikes. The Chosen One was driven relentless backward as he turned all his focus into furiously parrying Vader's attack, taxed himself considerably in the process. Repeatedly, he tried to counter with a stab of his own that would disrupt the flow and give him an opportunity to respond, but his enemy crushed all his efforts. Sweat poured down Anakin's face and his eyes burned with rage and frustration, all to no avail.

From his throne, Emperor Palpatine watched with tense uncertainty as the young Jedi was driven relentlessly backwards by his former master. Across the room, Mace Windu and Yoda watched the duel anxiously, as powerless as everyone else to see what was coming next. Padmé and Sabé struggled helplessly in their captors' grasp, far too terrified to speak or even breathe. Neither one could bear to watch the men they loved seeking so intently to destroy one another, but at the same time they could not bear to see the conflict end. They both knew that whatever the outcome of the brutal duel was to be, victory would bring with it unspeakable tragedy.

The participants were ignorant of the tense anticipation and helpless fear that ravaged the souls of the spectators. The rest of the galaxy had vanished for them, consumed by their desire for ultimate triumph and whatever it would bring. Energy danced back and forth between their blades, a manifestation of the pure power which saturated the Force around them. It was power born of rage, the essence of the Dark Side, fueling their lust for blood.

Vader knew better than anyone that Anakin thrived on the attack; the longer he was forced to focus on parrying and dodging, the more frustrated he would become, and the more likely he would be to make a mistake. When that time came, he would immediately exploit it, swiftly and ruthlessly delivering the strike which would end the life of his former apprentice and reunite him with the Force.

The wall of the throne room was drawing close, hard and unyielding. Vader felt a rush of hot anticipation. If he could drive Anakin back into the barrier, he could trap him there and break through his guard with an onslaught of crushing strikes. Deprived of any hope of escape, it would not be long before he had the Jedi at his feet, every bit as helpless as the members of the Jedi Council had been before him five years ago. Once Anakin was dead, the Dark Lord's path to the throne of his glorious Empire would be unopposed save by the insignificant shell of the man he had once foolishly considered his master. With the sacrifice of one more traitor, the Force would return to balance, and his dream of ultimate justice could at last become a reality.

Through the Force, Anakin ascertained the Dark Lord's intentions. He knew that if Vader succeeded in pinning him, the battle would be over. The man who had taken everything from him would soon take his life, and those whose lives he sought to protect would be subject to the Dark Lord's merciless judgment.

Cold resolve hardened Anakin's heart, and fresh anger gave new strength to his tiring arms. It would not happen. He would not become another sacrificial victim of Vader's unrelenting fire. He would match that fire with his own, and surrender to the inferno on his own terms.

As it had done many times before, the prospect of imminent death sharpened Anakin's mind, and he realized with a flash of fury that his pride had clouded his judgment. By stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that Vader had surpassed him in physical power, he had played right into his former master's hands. The Dark Lord knew him as well as anyone, and he had used that knowledge to exploit Anakin's greatest weakness.

Anakin's eyes flashed red before settling back to steely blue. He bared his teeth in a determined snarl. Vader sought to beat him at his own game. Well, then, Anakin would beat him at his.

The Jedi began to shift his form, using quicker, less powerful strokes. Vader noticed the change, but did nothing to change his own strategy. It was too late for Anakin – the wall was less than five meters away, and soon the Jedi would be trapped.

Anakin smiled coldly to himself. It was time to turn the tables.

As Vader redoubled his efforts for the final push, Anakin sprang backwards, closing the final distance between himself and the wall. As Vader charged forward, the Jedi nimbly ran two meters up the wall and shoved off, vaulting over the Dark Lord of the Sith and landing in perfect balance behind him. Vader hissed with fury as his quarry escaped him, but he had no time to let his rage cloud his mind. With remarkable agility considering the restrictions of his suit, the Dark Lord halted his mad dash before he crashed into the unyielding barrier and spun around to face his opponent. He raised his lightsaber to defend himself … a fraction of a second too late.

Anakin stabbed straight out, burying the full length of his blade into Vader's right shoulder. There was a shriek of melting metal, followed by the unmistakable smell of seared flesh. A wave of sickening agony boiled through the Force, and the dark side gathered around them, infusing the air itself with a suffocating power.

The strike was devastating, enough to make any ordinary human collapse instantly, screaming in pain. Vader was far from ordinary, having endured agony far beyond most mortal comprehension. Even so, the shock of the blow hit his system like a turbolaser strike, and for a moment he was stunned, unable to move.

Anakin used his momentary advantage to unleash the power of the Force, wrenching his blade free and delivering a push that sent Vader straight back into the wall. The barrier shook as Vader's heavy body smashed into it with crushing force, but Anakin was not done. His hand curled like a claw, the Jedi raised the Dark Lord of the Sith's body into the air and threw him back into the open center of the room, a short distance from the captives and directly in front of Palpatine's throne.

Sabé gasped and her body jerked instinctively, lunging forward as though she sought to reach Vader's side. The Royal Guard holding her gave her a harsh tug, restraining her. She tried to struggle, and her captor slapped her across the face.

Meanwhile, Vader was rising, albeit slowly. His armor had cushioned him from the worst of the impact, but nevertheless his breathing was surprisingly erratic. The ragged wound in his shoulder smoked ominously, exuding a foul scent of fried circuitry and charred flesh. The Emperor's cruel laughter filled the air as the injured Sith Lord rounded on his former apprentice. Anakin's eyes shone with cold satisfaction – he had succeeded in drawing first blood.

Beneath Vader's frozen mask, a furious snarl rose to his lips. He might be wounded, but he was far from defeated. The Jedi would pay the price for failing to finish him off.

Vader rushed forward, ignoring the throbbing pain that erupted in his shoulder as he raised his lightsaber high. Anakin sprang to meet him, moving with an agility and energy that Vader, hindered by his suit, could not equal. The Jedi unleashed a lighting-fast slash, and Vader barely managed to get his lightsaber in position to block it.

The two traded blows for several tense minutes, the advantage shifting back and forth quicker than the eye could follow. Slowly, however, it became apparent that Anakin was gaining the upper hand. The Jedi's shift to quick, precise slashes rather than heavy, powerful strokes was taxing Vader heavily; with his injured arm, the Dark Lord could not respond as quickly as he could before. Vader realized that if he did not do something to offset his opponent's newfound advantage, he would soon find himself in a position every bit as dire as the one Anakin had occupied only a short time ago. The time had come to make a decisive move.

Vader staggered, giving ground and allowing his guard to slip, exposing his upper body to an attack. Anakin's eyes flashed with cold anticipation, and he unleashed a quick slash at his faltering opponent. Vader allowed the weapon to penetrate his guard, barely missing his neck. The opening in the defense encouraged Anakin to abandon caution in favor of a quick follow-up strike that could end the duel. Vader chose that moment to act.

With a quick feint, the older man succeeded in drawing his opponent's blade out of position long enough to inflict a long, deep gash his upper thigh. Anakin hissed with pain and fell back, flesh smoking from the heat of Vader's calculated strike. The Dark Lord smiled coldly beneath his mask – that little cut would reduce Anakin's mobility considerably.

He sprang back to the offensive, eager to restore balance to their duel. Anakin parried two quick slashes from the Sith Lord, pain and anger transforming his face into a steely mask. Vader took advantage of Anakin's momentary weakness to score another hit on his shoulder – not nearly as deep or as painful as the one Anakin had inflicted upon him, but a significant strike nonetheless.

Anakin fell back another two paces, his left arm stretched out in front of him to ward off any attack. Vader raised his blade high once more, this time aiming for the Jedi's weapon hand. The Jedi had never learned the value of protecting his weapon – Vader intended to make him pay for it.

He launched the strike, his momentum carrying him forward towards the Jedi. Too late, he saw Anakin draw back his arm – the Jedi had been feinting, just like Vader himself moments before. The Dark Lord twisted to avoid a blow to the body, and Anakin redirected his strike, aiming for the hilt of Vader's lightsaber.

Their blades clashed with immense force, and Vader was unable to hold on. His lightsaber went flying out of his hand and came to rest at the top of the stairs. Suddenly weaponless, the Dark Lord drew back to offset his vulnerability, while Anakin, his eyes flickering red once more, set his feet and advanced. Vader extended his right hand behind him, calling for his lightsaber, and Anakin chose that moment to strike, an overhand slash that would cleave the Dark Lord in two. As the blade descended, Vader realized in a fraction of the second he hand left that he would not be able to retrieve his lightsaber, ignite it, and position it time to block the killing strike. There was only one avenue left open to him if he wanted to survive – he would need to reverse course.

As Anakin's blade descended the final few centimeters towards his neck, Vader acted with inhuman speed. His right arm, which had been outstretched behind him, shot up and forward above his head. He seized his former apprentice's weapon hand by the wrist, arresting the ultimate blow a millisecond before it could land.

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise. Drawing upon the force and his own immense physical strength, he tried to force the blade the final few centimeters into Vader's skull. The Dark Lord would have none of it. He tightened his grip around the Jedi's wrist to bonecrushing strength and began to force his arm backward, away from himself and towards Anakin.

Anakin fought to free himself, but against Vader's reinforced muscles there was nothing he could do. The Dark Lord's relentless power forced the Jedi to bend over backwards, straining both to hold onto his weapon and keep it from being turned around and thrust through his chest. It was a losing battle.

A moment before his arm was torn out of its socket, Anakin let go of his blade. The Dark Lord kicked it to the far side of the throne room, out of reach by all but the Force. He drew back his leg and dealt the Jedi a vicious blow to the side of his torso, sending him tumbling away.

Anakin tasted blood in his mouth as he rose – the blow had broken at least two of his ribs, probably more. Cursing his lost opportunity, he assessed the situation in an instant. Both he and Vader were now weaponless, but the Dark Lord was far closer to his lightsaber that Anakin was to his – he had to engage him unless he wanted to reverse their situation from moments before.

As Vader spun around to summon his lightsaber, Anakin rushed forward and concentrated all his momentum onto the triangular point of his shoulder. As Vader's lightsaber began to glide back to its master's hand, Anakin slammed into the Dark Lord at full speed, his shoulder catching his enemy in the center of his chest.

The blow knocked Vader off his feet and sent him flying through the air, crashing to the ground a good two meters away. The lightsaber shot over Anakin's head and vanished into the shadows. His shoulder stinging from the force of impact, Anakin sought to regain his balance, and during that brief interval Vader was able to return to his feet. Sensing that another opportunity was slipping away, Anakin ran forward to engage his enemy in direct combat. They might now both be unarmed, but their battle was to be no less savage.

Anakin led off with a punishing right cross, smashing the Sith Lord across the face. Vader's head snapped backwards, creating room for the Jedi to deliver a second blow to his unprotected neck. The armor saved the Dark Lord's windpipe from being crushed, but his mechanical breathing hitched and his vision grayed out for a moment. Anakin moved to strike again, and Vader, relying entirely on instinct, lashed out with his left fist. He caught Anakin in his wounded shoulder and forced the Jedi to halt his offensive. His vision now clearing, Vader added a new layer of precision to his second strike, cruelly driving his fist into Anakin's broken ribs. An involuntary groan tore from the Jedi's lips and blood flew from his mouth, splashing onto Vader's armor. Vader responded by going for another crippling strike, driving his armored boot into Anakin's left knee.

The joint popped and Anakin's leg buckled. He collapsed to one knee at Vader's feet. Vader's armored fist descended towards the Jedi's head , and Anakin was forced to roll to the side in order to avoid it. He barely succeeded as Vader's fist smashed into the floor beside him, leaving a dent several centimeters deep in the solid durasteel.

Anakin rose, teeth clenched against the wave of agony that erupted from his leg. Through a haze of pain and fury, he discerned that one of his crucial ligaments had been torn, and the rest of his knee had suffered significant damage. His advantage in maneuverability, already strained by the earlier wound he had sustained at the Dark Lord's hands, was going to be limited even further.

Vader retracted his arm from the missed blow and brought it around for another attempt. Anakin stretched out his arm and blocked the strike. Without pausing, he spun three hundred and sixty degrees and led with his elbow, delivering a ferocious blow to Vader's face for the second time in less than a minute. Once again, Vader's head snapped backwards and this time, he was not so quick to recover. Anakin, seizing his advantage, brought his knee up and kicked his enemy in the chest again with brutal intent. Vader fell back, half doubled over as his life support systems struggled to cope with the brutal impact.

Anakin rushed forward, his vision lost in the rising red tide. He paid the price for his overexertion as Vader, still bent over, lunged low and struck Anakin in his legs, flipping the Jedi over him and onto his back. Anakin landed hard, his breath driven from him as he made contact with the floor. He struggled to get back up, fully expecting Vader to attack him while he was down. But the Dark Lord had turned away from him and extended his hand, reaching into the Force as he did so. He was attempting to summon his lightsaber back to him, and a flash of a silver hilt rocketing out of the corner towards its master's waiting hand alerted Anakin that he had been successful.

The Jedi forced himself to his feet and half ran, half staggered towards the far side of the throne room, extending his arm out blindly for his own weapon. Behind him, he heard the telltale snap-hiss and knew that Vader was closing in. Ignoring his pounding heart, Anakin closed his eyes and placed all his trust in the Force, calling out to his lightsaber. A second later, his trust was rewarded as the familiar comfortable hilt of his weapon settled back into his hand.

Anakin spun one hundred and eighty degrees, ignoring the sickening pain that erupted in his leg as he did so. Vader was advancing again, but more cautiously this time. He seemed to have come to the same realization that Anakin had – rushing in recklessly was the path to certain disaster. Anakin watched his adversary warily, keeping an eye out for any sudden tricks. Unfortunately, he could not look behind him.

The Force screamed a warning, and at the last moment Anakin was able to turn his body to avoid the durasteel panel which Vader sent flying in at his unprotected back. The sharp edge of the metal sheet clipped him in the side, leaving a long, ragged gash across his oblique. Vader moved his arm in a circle and like a predatory bird on the wing, the panel soared in a wide arc and came rocketing back in for another strike. This time, Anakin was ready, springing to the side and extending his lightsaber, cleaving the deadly projectile in half as it passed.

Undaunted, the Jedi used the Force to tear a long piece of the metal railing free from the barrier that encircled the platform and sent it shooting in towards his opponent like a spear. Vader was not fast enough to dodge, and the jagged end of the pole buried itself in his lower back. Enraged, the Sith Lord wrenched the broken spar, now tipped with blood, out of his body and sent it flying away from him with a wave of his hand. A moment later, he extended the same hand in front of him, directing another large piece of metal at his former apprentice. This one came in low at the Jedi's knees, threatening to tear Anakin's legs out from under him.

Anakin leapt into the air, his boots grazing over the whirling metal sheet as it passed. He landed smoothly yet unsteadily, using the Force to cushion the impact on his damaged knee. Knowing that Vader would attempt to bring the projectile around again, he closed the distance, engaging his former master in lightsaber combat once more.

The two met one another with the force of two star ships colliding head on. They traded fierce blows for a few moments, abandoning dodging and weaving in favor of straight-up frontal assault. It was Anakin who broke through first. Drawing Vader into swinging high, he rolled to the side and stabbed straight out. The tip of his molten blade speared Vader through the left side of his abdomen.

The vicious strike missed Vader's vital organs by centimeters. Had Anakin directed his blade slightly higher, he would have taken his enemy through either the stomach or the liver and slain him almost immediately. Nevertheless, the searing blade wrecked considerable internal damage as it lanced through the Dark Lord's armor and ripped through his intestines, its full length emerging from the center of his back. An involuntary sound that might have been a moan or a mangled scream tore from Vader's mouth. His pain saturated the Force around them like a wave of molten fire.

Anakin withdrew, a dark storm of rage and excitement brewing in his heart. He knew that Vader's tolerance for pain was unrivaled – the fact that he had succeeded in drawing forth a scream from the Dark Lord was a testament to how badly he had wounded his adversary. On the other hand, the fact that Vader had just taken a lightsaber thrust through the abdomen and was still standing upright with lightsaber in hand told Anakin that he was far from finished. He needed to press his advantage.

On the far side of the room, Padmé and Sabé were watching the scene in a state of detached disbelief. They had known from the moment that Anakin and Vader had engaged one another in combat that the results of the battle would be devastating for all involved. Up till this point, however, it had never really registered with them how closely death was hovering over both of the participants. The wound that Vader had just sustained would have killed nearly any other human being, and though Anakin had managed to avoid a similar strike thus far, the pitched nature of the duel meant that it could fall at any moment. Padmé glanced over at Mace and Yoda, silently pleading with them to do something … anything. But with the force pikes of the Royal Guards pressed ruthlessly into their necks, the Jedi were as helpless as they were.

Living on a knife's edge for five years had given Vader an appreciable amount of medical knowledge. He did not need the Force to tell him how badly he was hurt. The life-support suit he wore worked by maintaining a delicate balance of his internal systems, and Anakin's strike had thrown off his internal homeostasis. Despite the cauterization he could feel fluid draining from around his shielded lungs and out of the torn network of veins that surrounded his wound. It would not be long before he started to feel the effects – his internal temperature would fluctuate and he would struggle to breathe. Of course, he had managed to breathe without the aid of his suit before, but not for long and never under such stressful conditions as a duel. Only by entering a healing trance in the next few minutes would he be able to avoid catastrophic damage, but he had no time for one now. Anakin was still an immediate threat.

Vader's red-tinted gaze locked onto his former apprentice, thermal vision showing an elevated heart rate brought on by a rush of adrenaline. Anakin was an opportunist– knowing that he had drawn blood, he would soon go for the kill. He would tear Vader to pieces like a krayt dragon in the throes of a primordial hunt.

Vader summoned his rage, channeling his pain and filling himself with the dark side of the Force, letting his body become a mere conduit for its power. He had no intention of being cast unceremoniously onto his own sacrificial pyre by one who had never understood what it meant to have a true purpose in the galaxy. If it took his life, he would see the misguided Jedi destroyed.

Anakin was closing in, stalking his wounded prey. Vader let him get close enough to strike, then countered.

As Anakin lunged forward with his blade, Vader summoned the power of the Force, concentrating it into a stream of tightly condensed air that hit the Jedi in the chest like a cannonball. Anakin was thrown backward and smashed unceremoniously into the stairs leading up to Palpatine's dais. Vader rose to his full height, ignoring the boiling agony building in his gut, and strode determinedly towards his stunned adversary, lightsaber rising to attack.

Anakin clambered to his feet once more, spitting out another stream of blood. He sneered at Vader's advance, but made no move towards him. As the Dark Lord closed the distance, Anakin stretched out his left hand, fingers splayed in a familiar manner, and unleashed the full manifestation of his fury.

A stream of searing blue-white lightning tore from the Jedi's fingertips and shot towards Vader, striking his guard with punishing force. The Dark Lord expertly positioned his lightsaber to block the attack, but even then he was hard pressed to hold back the torrent. Anakin's attack was far more vicious than Palpatine's hand been, and Vader himself was in much weaker condition. Despite his unrelenting focus, he was unable to turn the lightning back at Anakin, for doing so would require far greater strength than his mangled body was capable of summoning.

But Vader would not sit idle and bear the attack. Using his left arm to hold up his guard, he extended his right in cruel claw, drawing upon his rage as he locked onto the Jedi's throat.

Anakin gave a strangled gasp as the full power of the dark side descended upon his throat, ruthlessly sealing off his windpipe. Unable to breathe, he swayed unsteadily, but the stream of lightning did not abate. Beneath his mask, Vader winced as stray forks of energy broke past his guard and struck his chest, taxing his already strained life-support system even further. Another wave of agony hit his abdomen as he momentarily lost his concentration, but like Anakin, he did not let up on his attack.

Black spots were dancing in front of the Jedi's eyes as his brain began to shut down from the lack of oxygen. He fell to his knees on the stairs before Palpatine, lightsaber held loosely in one hand. He kept his other hand directed at Vader, lightning pouring from his fingertips.

Vader had fallen to his knees as well. Small forks of lightning danced through the circuitry across his chest like a halo. His normally smooth mechanical breathing came in short, strained gasps. They were both dying … together.

Then it was over. The lightning vanished, and the invisible pressure on Anakin's neck lifted. Jedi and Sith knelt opposite one another on the cold floor, their heads bowed as they fought to draw air into their ragged lungs. For a moment, a nearly perfect silence fell, broken only by a savage hiss from an incredulous Palpatine and the slow breathing of the two combatants, both of whom seemed to have forgotten that the other was still there.

Across the room, Padmé's heart leapt with fear … and the smallest hint of relief. Their duel had to be over - it had to be. No two mortal beings could take that much punishment and still have the strength to keep fighting. When they rose again, the irrational rage that had seized them would be gone and they would realize what they had done …

She was wrong.

Anakin recovered first, his eyes searing with anger as he turned his piercing gaze towards the still-kneeling Vader. As the Dark Lord struggled to rise, Anakin rushed down the stairs and kicked him in the face, knocking him onto his back. The Jedi raised his lightsaber high, intending to stab down, but Vader brought his own weapon to bear and blocked the killing blow. As Anakin strained to push the two blades down into Vader's chest, a piece of loose masonry came flying out of the shadows and struck the Jedi in the back of the head, sending him sprawling.

Vader rose, murder reflected in the empty lenses of his soulless mask as bore down on Anakin. The Jedi sprang up to face Vader, but his injured leg threw him off balance, and the Dark Lord's strike turned him around, exposing his back to his enemy. No mercy in his heart, Vader drew his lightsaber up to his left shoulder and slashed down and across.

If Anakin had not arched his back at the last possible instant, Vader's strike would have cleaved his spinal column cleanly in half. As it was, the Dark Lord's blade cut burned through his tunic and left a long gash across his back, scraping over the lower vertebrae. Anakin screamed and collapsed to his hand and knees, his lightsaber rolling from his suddenly nerveless grasp. Across the room, Padmé let out a cry of dismay and Sabé turned her head, unable to watch.

Vader watched dispassionately as his former apprentice convulsed on the floor. That had to be the last straw. Anakin would never be able to rise in time to counter his next strike. The battle was at its end.

Instead of feeling triumphant, however, he was only aware of how mortal he felt, how weak … how human. Despite his incredible endurance, excruciating pain from a dozen different wounds was overwhelming his senses. His breathing was so shallow he wasn't even sure that his suit was still functioning at all. His right arm seemed to have been paralyzed – he doubted he would be able to lift it to deliver the final blow. In his thermal vision, he saw that something warm and red was staining his armor around the wound in his abdomen. Blood. He was bleeding. He hadn't bled in over five years.

He was dying, he realized. He was dying on his feet, moments away from the victory he had believed was essential to clearing his path to power. He was in no condition to fight Palpatine once the Jedi was dispatched. The galaxy would have to suffer under the rule of his twisted, insane master while he recovered his strength and rebuilt his plans. Through his ignorance and unfailing capacity for arrogance, Anakin had ruined everything.

The Chosen One … the Sith'ari … this was the vessel the Force had chosen to be the instrument of its will? Skywalker could not even distance himself from his fear long enough to take the smallest necessary action. He had never been willing to sacrifice what he loved in the name of true justice, as demanded by the Force. That made him weak … weak and unworthy.

He would set things right. Before he gave himself over to the Force, he would correct the mistake that destiny had made and end the life of Anakin Skywalker: a life without purpose, without honor, without power.

Meanwhile, Anakin was scrabbling on the floor, trying to reach his dropped weapon. He had retained movement and feeling in his extremities, which meant that his spinal cord was intact. That would be irrelevant, however, as at any second Vader's final stroke would fall, tearing his life away.

Anakin Skywalker was the most powerful Force user the galaxy had ever seen, and while he had always taken some measure of pride in that realization, the bitter truth was that it terrified him. He had no idea what would happen if he unleashed his full potential – he might achieve a level of transcendence never before reached by any Jedi or Sith … or he might be consumed by an inferno he did not have the strength to contain. So, even as he strove for perfection and ultimate mastery, he had held himself back. Knowing the consequences that would befall his loved ones if he could not control his power, he had held himself back. And certain of the terrible destiny which awaited him if he surrendered to his ultimate legacy, he had held himself back.

Now there was no more time for fear. His fear of losing everything had led him to the verge of the ultimate precipice, the crushing void of death itself. Vader, the man who had betrayed him, stood over him, ready to end the futile legacy of the one the Jedi had called their savior and the Sith their herald for a new generation. Just as he had failed to protect his family with his sacrifice, he had failed to make himself into anyone worth remembering. He was not worthy of the power he had been given, for he could not bear its weight. He could not even supplant the usurper who had risen from the shadows to steal his destiny away.

He was about to die just as he had lived … as nothing.

As the weight of that crushing revelation descended upon him, a hidden wall inside Anakin's heart burst. Pure, searing rage, completely outside of his control, overwhelmed the barriers that surrounded his heart and ripped away the last vestiges of his humanity. Strength the likes of which he had never felt before flooded his body, and he surrendered himself to its tumbling currents, allowing the last of his weakness and doubt to be torn away. He felt _alive_ again as his body was lost to the power which had risen within him, so alien and yet so familiar. The power of the Force filled its chosen servant, bringing with it the power of life and death.

He would not end this way. He had a mission to fulfill, and a traitor to destroy. Vader would die, slowly and painfully… and nothing would stop him.

Anakin Skywalker's eyes snapped open. All traces of blue had vanished, consumed by an inferno of power and an unstoppable resolve to kill. As Vader's blade arced down towards his heart, he let the last of his inhibitions die.

Faster than anyone's eye could follow, Anakin sprang to his feet and leapt to the side. Vader's blade missed him completely, leaving only a molten gash in the durasteel floor. Anakin spun around to face his enemy, his eyes burning with the intensity of a bleeding star. His face, transformed by the current of pure rage that were cascading through his blood stream, no longer appeared human. A shadow had fallen upon him, darker and more terrible than any void. From his presence, no light could escape.

Vader stared in disbelief at his resurrected foe, but he had no time to dwell on what had happened. Brought on by malicious intent, a wave of pure power slammed into his open wound like a burning spear. The Dark Lord of the Sith doubled over in absolute agony, and Anakin used the opportunity to summon his lightsaber to his hand, ignite its brilliant blue blade, and charge.

It was a stunning shift in the nature of the battle. Anakin's grievous wounds no longer seemed to bother him as he chained together a series of spins, slashes, and cuts that transcended any level of mastery. He was everywhere at once, striking first high, then low, then high again, all in less than a second. It was effortless for him, pure power infused in every swing. Pure brilliance of technique fused together with savage, uncompromising fury to create the deadliest warrior the galaxy had ever seen.

Darth Vader poured his absolute last reserves of strength into his defense. For two agonizing minutes, he danced around the inferno that was Anakin Skywalker, relying on years of ingrained strategy and skill to survive. With an unbreakable sense of determined purpose, he fought on, resolved to see the battle through to the bitter end. But against the chosen son of the Force, it was not enough.

Anakin drove Vader back to the rail, his strikes merging into a single halo of impenetrable light. Vader lunged forward in one last desperate attempt to break through, willing to sacrifice his own life in order to destroy his enemy. The savage strength of the Jedi's parry left him stunned and he fell back, his guard breaking as the arm holding his lightsaber was forced away from his body. Possessed with ruthless intent, Anakin moved to take advantage of the final opening. He did not hold back.

With one slash, the Jedi drew his blade across Vader's chest, gashing the Dark Lord's life-support controls and knocking his weapon far out to the side. Reversing his grip, he brought the blade down for a second slash, severing Vader's right arm at the elbow.

The onlookers watched with horror as Vader staggered, falling backwards into the rail. The Dark Lord's head flew back, and his arms went limp. With a scream of pure rage, Anakin guided his blade up and across through one final slash.

The molten tip of the Jedi's blade caught Vader across the face. An explosion of sparks erupted from the point of contact and an inhuman screech echoed through the air as plastic was vaporized and durasteel melted away. For the briefest instant, the fire that engulfed the Dark Lord's face shone as brightly as any star.

Sabé screamed.

Padmé covered her mouth in horror.

The Emperor cackled.

Mace and Yoda froze, utterly shocked. The wave of distress that hit them through the Force overwhelmed their senses, leaving them blind.

And Anakin watched, his eyes burning with a hellish fire that seemed out of place on his cold, inhuman face as he beheld the destruction he had wrought.

It seemed to take Vader an eternity to fall. His knees bent slightly, and his cape billowed out as if caught by a high wind. His limbs went completely slack, resembling broken wings, and his face, still engulfed by sparks, continued to shine with an almost beautiful light. For a moment, he hung in space, like an angel falling from the highest peak of celestial heaven towards the earth far below.

But then it was over. With a thunderous sound that shook the entire throne room, Darth Vader keeled over at last, crashing unceremoniously to the ground at the feet of his former apprentice.

Defeated.

Silence fell across the throne room. The end of the duel had come so suddenly that those present seemed unwilling to acknowledge that it had indeed come, and brought with it the result that they had both anticipated and feared. The entire galaxy seemed to be holding its breath, focusing with unseeing eyes upon Anakin Skywalker, who stood in the eye of a turbulent hurricane of power, and the broken body of Darth Vader, lying motionless at his feet.

Emperor Palpatine, rising to his feet, was the first to break the silence. His twisted, cruel face shown with a glee that was absolutely inhuman, and his ravaged voice was even more strained that usual, warped by excitement and greedy anticipation.

"Brilliant, Anakin, simply brilliant! You have attained a level of power never before seen in this galaxy, merely by embracing at last your full potential in the Dark Side of the Force!"

The Jedi turned to face Palpatine, and even the Emperor was shocked by what he saw. Anakin Skywalker had disappeared. In his place was a being of untold power, transformed by his immersion in the pure, ravaging currents of the dark side. He seemed taller, towering over all present merely by the state of his very existence. Lightning crackled around his body, ready to be summoned at the slightest call. His hair and clothes moved as though caught in a high wind, though the air of the throne room was utterly still. And his face … his face was engulfed in pure shadows, behind which the outline of his features was just barely visible. His eyes shone pure red with an eager fire that lingered ominously, waiting to spring forth and consume all those who dared to oppose him.

_The Sith'ari_, Palpatine thought to himself in amazement. _Bane was right._

"You have triumphed by the will of the Force," he announced grandly, eager to see this creature in action again and yet keen to prevent him from singling out the Emperor as his next victim. "Now, only one thing remains before you can fulfill your destiny. Take up your weapon and dispatch the traitor who sought to keep you from your rightful place … at my side!"

Anakin returned his searing gaze to Vader's prone body. At first, the Sith Lord appeared to be motionless, but without warning his limbs flexed and he stirred on the ground. Across the room, Padmé gasped and Sabé's breath caught in her throat. Despite the multitude of ghastly wounds visible across his entire body, Vader was still alive.

The smoke cleared and Vader's head came into view, revealing something even more remarkable. The right side of the Dark Lord's mask, which had covered his face for five years, remained intact, every bit as twisted and imposing as ever. The left side of his mask, however, was gone. In the gap where Anakin's lightsaber had torn the metal visage away, Vader's true face was visible - a narrow strip of pale skin, a high cheekbone, a tightly closed eye and half of a thin pair of lips. From those lips escaped a hiss, a sound barely audible even in the stillness of the air. It came in perfect time with the agonizingly slow, but perfectly visible rise and fall of his chest. Breathing. Human breathing, unassisted by any machine.

As he drew air weakly in and out of his lungs, Vader opened his eyes, staring up at the man who had vanquished him. The gaze was piercing, intense, yet dulled by pain and exhaustion. There was no hint of anger or judgment visible in his eye, no mocking glint of defiance. There was only a cold acceptance, an acknowledgement that he had been bested, that the Force had no further use for him, that his time had come.

Anakin stared down at the Dark Lord without recognition, without the slightest hint of mercy in his hellish gaze. As the onlookers watched, the Jedi stretched out his hand summoned Vader's lightsaber to him, igniting it alongside his own. The evil red glow framed his face in a sinister light, matching the bloody hue of his eyes. The shadows around Anakin's face fell away, revealing a cold, judgmental sneer. He drew back, raising his lightsabers above his head.

"Anakin!" Padmé screamed as Sabé burst into tears and Mace and Yoda turned their heads away. "No!"

The Royal Guard clapped his hand over Padmé's mouth, silencing her. Anakin did not seem to have heard his wife. He was focused with absolute certainty of purpose upon the fragile form of Darth Vader and its painfully heaving chest. Vader's eyes slid shut and he laid his head back on the floor, awaiting without resistance the strike that would end his life.

Anakin moved forward, accelerating towards his defenseless target with unstoppable force. The Emperor leaned forward and Padmé closed her eyes, unwilling to witness the impending murder. With a terrible yell, the Jedi brought the blades down.

"Anakin, stop!"

The possessed being who bore the face of Anakin Skywalker froze unexpectedly, his face locked in a terrible snarl, both of his weapons descending towards the defenseless man at his feet. He seemed as surprised as anyone that he had complied with the command. Padmé looked over at Mace and Yoda, certain that it had been one of them who had spoken and stretched out with the Force to stop her husband in his tracks. The Jedi Masters, however, were still being restrained by the guards, and appeared every bit as dumbfounded as she was. Padmé heard Sabé gasp and quickly jerked her head back around to see what had happened. What she beheld took her breath away.

In the short distance between Anakin and Vader, a tall figure had seemingly emerged from thin air. It was a man, surrounded by a dazzling corona of soft blue light. He was cloaked in the simple mantle of a Jedi, and carried no weapon, but nevertheless his poise and confident demeanor commanded an aura of great respect. He wore his long hair swept back from his face, exposing a strong, lean face with a high regal brow. His dark brown eyes were soft and gentle, but they held within them both deep wisdom and a determined fire stoked by many years of hardship and loss. All present knew the look well, but for many years they had believed it lost to them forever.

Qui-Gon.

The man who stood in plain sight of all was unmistakably Qui-Gon Jinn, the Jedi Master whose heroism and sacrifice had saved countless people during the Naboo crisis and brought hope to thousands more. But it could not be … Qui-Gon had been dead for over eighteen years. He had been struck down by a Sith Lord on Naboo, and his body had been cremated in a funeral the likes of which the planet had not seen for centuries. There was simply no way that he could have been resurrected, for it defied more than mere human comprehension - it violated the natural law of life itself! Yet there Qui-Gon stood, tall and proud, looking every bit as strong and vibrant as everyone remembered him. He had not aged a day.

It was impossible to say who was the most shocked. Mace and Yoda were staring at their old friend in open-mouthed disbelief, utterly at a loss for words. Sabé, already pushed to her limits by the terrifying ordeal moments before, looked as though she were about to faint. Emperor Palpatine was standing slack-jawed and loose-limbed at the top of the stairs, his sickly orange eyes bulging incredulously out of his head and the gnarled veins in his temple pulsing wildly. But Qui-Gon seemed either unconcerned or unaware of the stir his appearance had caused – he had eyes only for Anakin.

The Jedi had remained frozen, his lightsabers still in the act of descending towards their prostrate target. The only change was that he was now blinking slowly, seemingly convinced that he was in the grips of a hallucination brought on by the swirling currents of the Force, and that when he opened his eyes again, the phantom of his old mentor would be gone. No such clearance came to him – Qui-Gon remained as visible as before.

The elder Jedi's eyes locked onto the burning red pools of rage that shone out of Anakin's face . Anakin, the remarkable young boy he had found all those years ago on Tatooine. The innocent, caring individual who wanted nothing more than to be free so that he could travel among the stars. The passionate, resourceful worker whose startlingly blue eyes shone at the prospect of an adventure. Those same eyes were now the portal to a soulless void, dominated by pain and unrelenting hatred. Qui-Gon did not blink as he stared into the face of the demon who had consumed his friend, but his eyes softened, and when he spoke, his voice carried with it the essence of power.

"Anakin … I know where you have gone. I know where you have fallen to, that dark, fiery void where it seems no light can reach you and no love can save you. I know because I have been there myself. I have seen the face of ultimate despair, I have borne the mantle of uncompromising anger. You have been betrayed, abandoned, cast aside by those you trusted, and the only way that you can restore balance is to make them feel your pain, to take from them in blood what they have taken from you in spirit. You think that there is no way to go back. You are right … there is no way to undo what has been done. But there is a way to move forward – to make things right and restore the light to your soul. I am here to show you the way."

"I think not," Palpatine snarled, his eyes flashing with uncontained rage as he stared at the long-dead Jedi Master. "The dead have no power, Master Jinn – you remain as utterly insignificant as you were in life. Be gone, now!"

Qui-Gon ignored the Emperor's command, neither moving nor vanishing into the Force. Face stricken with rage, Palpatine raised his hands and summoned his power, directing a blast of Force lightning at the Jedi Master's apparition. The lightning passed straight through Qui-Gon's spectral body, leaving him completely unscathed.

Palpatine's hands fell, and his mouth went slack-jawed in disbelief. Qui-Gon turned his piercing gaze upon the Emperor, and Palpatine staggered backward, his eyes betraying amazement, and a hint of undisguised fear. Qui-Gon did not move, but merely stared at the stricken master of the galaxy for a few moments with an almost disappointed look on his face. Then, shrugging off the Emperor's presence as though it were nothing, the Jedi Master turned his strong gaze back to the young man he had freed from a life of slavery on Tatooine many years ago.

Anakin had said nothing throughout the confrontation. He still appeared to be transfixed in the throes of confusion, enmeshed with his desire to kill. He did not move to strike, but he did not lower his weapons either.

Qui-Gon spoke again. "I told you once to trust your instincts, Anakin, and they have served you well. But when your instincts become detached from your reality, they lose their true meaning, and this is the fate which has befallen you. You want to protect those that you love, but the shadows of rage, deception, and irrationality have caused you to lose your true path. You must find yourself before you can save someone else."

His expression became one of deep sadness, and he looked over his shoulder at the man who had once been apprentice. Vader seemed unaware that Qui-Gon had somehow materialized from the Force and was shielding him from certain death at the hands of his former apprentice. His eyes remained shut, and his shallow breathing was becoming even more sporadic as the seconds passed. Qui-Gon turned back to the young Jedi, a new sense of urgency in his eyes.

"Think about it, Anakin. Deep in your heart, you know that this is not the way. The man you seek to kill is not the one responsible for your suffering. Obi-Wan Kenobi is not your enemy."

Anakin had remained silent, transfixed, since Qui-Gon's appearance, absorbing his former mentor's every word without struggle. Now, however, his eyes flashed dangerously, and his mouth curled into a contemptuous sneer. He opened his mouth to speak, and the sound that emerged was barely recognizable as his voice, so twisted was it by suppressed rage and disdain.

"This … is _not_ Obi-Wan Kenobi."

A short distance away, Sabé let out a strangled sob. Anakin ignored her and continued.

"The man who called himself Obi-Wan Kenobi died years ago. He was murdered … by _him_." Anakin's eyes seared with unequivocal hatred as they locked onto the Dark Lord through Qui-Gon's apparition. Anakin did not tear his gaze away from his enemy's body as he continued to talk.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi would never have turned his back on those who placed their trust in him. Obi-Wan Kenobi would never have massacred thousands of people in the name of so-called justice. _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ would never have been willing to sacrifice everyone who cared about him to achieve political stability and establish his rule over the entire galaxy.

"Your former apprentice is long gone, Master Jinn. The twisted demon who now inhabits the shell of his body goes only by the name of Darth Vader. He has brought nothing but suffering and death to all those who cross his path … and in the name of the balance he so desperately seeks, the time has come for him to meet his well-deserved end."

He took a step forward, intending to walk straight through the deluded apparition and deliver the final just stroke. But Qui-Gon stretched out a hand, and the chosen son of the Force found himself rebuffed. Anakin's eyes blazed with fury, but the ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn remained undaunted.

"Once again, Anakin, you are mistaken about the effect that your actions will have. If you strike down this man who you believe to be your enemy, then yes, the object of your hatred will die. But Darth Vader will not be so easily dispatched. Already, he has found a new vessel to inhabit… one even stronger than the one he left."

Anakin's eyes narrowed as he grasped the Jedi's insinuation. A sad look crept into Qui-Gon's wisdom-filled eyes.

"Yes, Anakin, it is you. The Sith prophecy whose revelation nearly destroyed your spirit is coming to fruition in the most terrifying way possible. The Shadow of Vader has fallen upon you, Anakin, and you are losing the battle. If you lash out now, consumed as you are by your hatred, then the fusion of your two souls will be complete … and all hope will be lost."

"Empty lies," Anakin hissed menacingly. "You won't sway me with your words, old man. I have not been the master of my own fate for far too long."

"Killing will not make you master of your own fate, Anakin," Qui-Gon said calmly. "Your own fear is what oppresses you. Only you can make the conscious decision to free yourself from that fear and become the master of your own destiny. But if you strike down a defenseless man in anger, you become no better than that which you seek to destroy."

"I don't care," Anakin said coldly, his tightening his grip on his lightsabers. "I willing to pay the price if that is what is necessary to end this abomination. To let him live is to curse the memories of everyone whose lives he has ruined, including Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Wan is alive, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly. "He lives in you. Your love for his memory has kept him strong. If you open yourself to your heart, you will see that I speak the truth. "

"Love," Anakin spat derisively, "I've let love blind me my entire life, and it has brought me more pain than anything else."

"Yes, to love is to feel pain, Anakin," Qui-Gon responded. "But to love is also to feel joy, to heal your soul, and to discover the path to absolute freedom. To love is power, Anakin, and it is a power greater than any other."

A defiant sneer crept onto the Chosen One's lips. "Prove it."

A strange gleam leapt into Qui-Gon's dark eyes. Without speaking, he stretched out a ghostly blue hand and made a small gesture towards Anakin, as though he were trying to close his eyes. Immediately, the throne room around Anakin dissolved. Qui-Gon, Vader, Palptaine, Padmé, and all the others vanished in a swirling vortex of color and sound. The Chosen One yelled furiously as his very existence was torn away from him, but despite the rage pulsing through his veins, he found himself powerless to resist the pull of the past. He was falling, falling for an eternity …

_His world reformed around him, a very different world from the one he had just left. He was in the clean white corridor of what appeared to be a spaceship, with no sign of those he had left behind. It seemed very familiar, but its exact nature escaped him. _

He was running frantically, racing towards something that he felt he should know, but once again, could not place. Someone else was running with him, but Anakin had no time to look over and see who it was. The person he was running with was tall, and Anakin's own legs seemed to have gotten far shorter … even at a dead sprint he had to struggle just to keep up.

After a few seconds both he and his unknown companion turned the corner and Anakin saw what it was they were running toward: Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who was sprawled on his back in the middle of the empty cargo hold. Qui-Gon wore a sandy habit and his face was covered with sweat and grime. He looked completely exhausted. Concern bubbling over inside of him, Anakin and his companion raced to the Jedi Master's side and fell to their knees.

"Are you all right?" Anakin heard himself exclaim anxiously.

Qui-Gon nodded and pushed himself up on his elbows. "I think so."

"What was it?" the unknown companion asked, sounding every bit as unsettled as Anakin.

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon replied seriously. "But it was well trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is it was after the Queen."

In a sudden flash, Anakin remembered where he was: on board Padmé's Royal Starship eighteen years ago, leaving both Tatooine and his mother for the first time in his life. Qui-Gon had just escaped from the Sith Lord who would later claim his life on Naboo. Anakin felt a rush of emotions flood him, among them both exhilaration and confusion. What was going on? What did the Jedi Master want him to see?

"What are we going to do about it?" the nine-year old boy asked quickly. The elder Anakin was struck by how young he sounded, how exuberant, how utterly honest and caring. He could scarcely believe that this was the boy he had been only a few years ago. It seemed like an eternity since he had been that innocent …

Qui-Gon chuckled, amusement breaking through his grave manner. "We shall be patient," he announced, extending a hand to direct Anakin's attention to his companion. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Anakin turned to face the man who would become his master and felt his heart leap in his chest. This Obi-Wan was every bit as different from the man he remembered as Anakin was from his past self. He was clean-shaven, wearing his hair in a close cut with a short padawan braid hanging over his right shoulder. His face was younger and much less lined and his eyes still held the spark of eagerness for adventure that Anakin knew had long been reflected in his own. Yet they were also gentle and compassionate, holding remarkable wisdom for one so young. There was absolutely no trace within those eyes of the man Obi-Wan Kenobi would become when he succumbed to the dark side of the Force.

"Hi!" Anakin exclaimed eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to make a new friend as he extended his hand for Obi-Wan to shake. Obi-Wan took it and gave Anakin a reserved, yet friendly smile. Anakin noticed the lightsaber on his belt and his heart leapt again.

"You're a Jedi too?" Obi-Wan nodded modestly, and Anakin pumped his hand enthusiastically. "Pleased to meet you!"

As laughter broke out among the three generations of Jedi, the scene dissolved and once more Anakin found himself soaring through a disorientating blur of memories. When he came to rest inside his body once again, the scene was much different.

A somber mood the Force around him, and silence filled the cold night air, broken only by the hissing and crackling of fire. A circle elaborately robed mourners surrounded a central pyre on which a body lay, slowly being consumed by the flames. The body was that of Qui-Gon, and once again Anakin realized with a jolt where he was: the great Jedi Master's funeral.

Familiar faces abounded around him: Masters Windu and Yoda standing opposite them with the other members of the Jedi Council. Chancellor Palpatine was to them, his unmarred aristocratic face betraying no hint of his true identity as the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. Padmé stood a short distance away from Anakin, her face covered in ceremonial makeup and her expression somber as she gazed upon the man who had helped to liberate her planet. She looked beautiful, but it was not she who drew Anakin's attention. That was the man who stood directly beside him, wearing the hooded cloak of a Jedi Knight to conceal his face as he fought to suppress his agony in the Force, the loss of a man who had been dearer to him than a father.

"What will happen to me now?" Anakin asked, his voice holding none of the excitement or confidence that had been so tangible in the last memory. He sounded scared, lost, and completely alone.

Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from the burning body of his master to look at Anakin, his eyes shining with a fierce determination. Obi-Wan had never looked at him with that kind of intensity, and it frightened Anakin.

"The Council has granted me permission to train you," he said strongly. "You will be a Jedi … I promise."

The two of them resumed their silent vigil as the night darkened and the flames consuming Qui-Gon's body grew ever higher …

The scene dissolved and reformed once more. This time, Anakin found himself in a sparring chamber of the Jedi Temple. Several years had passed – he was taller and Obi-Wan was beginning to grow a beard. Anakin stood at rapt attention as Obi-Wan pulled his lightsaber off of his belt and ignited it. A brilliant blue glow pervaded the air around them.

"The lightsaber is a Jedi's most precious possession," Obi-Wan told him. "An elegant weapon … for a more civilized age, if you will. The right to carry one comes with great responsibility, for though they are powerful, they are also dangerous … much like the Force itself … if used incorrectly. Before you can master the art of the blade, you must first master yourself."

Obi-Wan whirled his weapon expertly through his hands, slashing the air with lightning speed and perfect precision. One slash came within a centimeter of Anakin's face, but the young Jedi did not blink, too enthralled by the display.

"This weapon is your life," Obi-Wan said, continuing to spin the blade effortlessly as he talked. "It is a part of you. You must learn to think of it as an extension of your very being. You must learn to focus on yourself, your opponent, and your environment all at once. Most importantly, you must trust yourself completely when you wield it – the Force will guide you through the rest."

Obi-Wan sprang into the air and did a flip, landing in perfect balance as he chained together an extensive series of slashes, stabs, and parries without stopping. He moved with such perfect control and purpose that it was easy to imagine he was locked in combat with some enemy of justice on a far distant world, and not here in a perfectly safe sparring chamber, unseen by anyone but his young apprentice.

Anakin watched the display intently, his mouth hanging open in awe. With a flourish, Obi-Wan sidestepped, executed a perfect disarming thrust, kicked out and brought his blade down, stopping it a hairs-breadth from his imaginary opponent's neck.

Unable to contain himself, Anakin burst into applause, eagerness and admiration shining in his eyes. Obi-Wan smiled modestly at his apprentice's enthusiasm and deactivated his weapon, clipping it carefully back onto his belt.

"Master Obi-Wan, that was great!" Anakin blurted out, unable to contain himself. "When will I be able to do moves like that?"

"Patience, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, a stern, paternal tone overtaking his voice once more. "It takes many, many years to become proficient, and even longer to achieve mastery. You will undoubtedly experience many frustrations along the way. Indeed, there may come a time when it all seems to be too much and you want to quit … it did for me. When that happens, you must persevere. Only the dedicated can overcome the challenges that come with life as a Jedi."

Anakin's face fell slightly and he tried to conceal his disappointment. He was not good at being patient … it was one of the things Obi-Wan constantly chastised him about. He didn't know if he would be able to what his master was telling him, and that made him feel very insignificant indeed.

Obi-Wan saw Anakin deflate, and a warm smile replaced his stern manner. He knelt down to his padawan's level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you can do it, Anakin. I have seen your potential; you have everything you need to succeed. In time, if you work hard and stay focused on your goal, you will achieve everything you strive for."

Anakin looked up into Obi-Wan's face, a determined gleam returning to his eye. A small, hopeful smile crossed his own face. "When can I start?"

Obi-Wan chuckled and pressed something into Anakin's hands. Anakin looked down and his eyes widened; a training saber. He looked back up at Obi-Wan, and the elder Jedi stood up beckoning his young apprentice to follow him onto the training floor.

"Right now."

The scene dissolved again. When it reformed, Anakin was standing beside Obi-Wan in an elevator with a spectacular view of Coruscant's skyline. Several years had passed; Anakin was now taller than his master, and Obi-Wan was sporting a full beard. Anakin was nervous; he could tell by his elevated temperature and quick breathing. He was going to see Padmé, the woman he loved, for the first time in ten years.

"You seem a little on edge," Obi-Wan observed dryly.

"Not at all," Anakin mumbled, trying to reign himself in. How was it that Obi-Wan could always read him like an open book?

"I haven't seen you this tense since we fell into that nest of gundarks," Obi-Wan told him, a teasing note entering his usually solemn voice. The good-natured jibe brought the embarrassing memory to the forefront of Anakin's mind, and he turned to respond.

"You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you. Remember?"

"Oh," Obi-Wan said haltingly, his tone betraying an abundance of skeptical amusement. "Yes."

His normally calm demeanor broke, and he began to chuckle. A smile broke across Anakin's face and he joined in. For a moment, all tension was forgotten and the two friends reveled in a few seconds free of all the worries of the galaxy … 

Anakin closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in agony as the scene dissolved once more. Conflicting waves of unexpected emotion coursed through his bloodstream, pulling his heart and thoughts in a dozen different directions. The large part of him that was consumed by anger raged furiously against the newfound empathy, dismissing it as an powerless manifestation of nostalgia, an insignificant relic of the past that held no relevance to the future he was meant to fulfill. But there was another side of him, still weak, but growing stronger and louder with every passing minute. That side spoke to him with the soft tones of reason and regret …

_A dazzling assortment of images continued to flash by a warp speed. Anakin saw himself fighting alongside Obi-Wan in the arena on Geonosis. He saw Obi-Wan shielding him from Dooku after his reckless assault on the Sith Lord. He saw Obi-Wan watching anxiously at his side as he recovered from being fitted with a new mechanical arm …_

A stifled groan escaped Anakin's lips and he doubled over, fighting to prevent himself from succumbing to the ravaging torrents of emotion that were relentlessly assailing his senses. Those present watched in stunned anticipation, concern and fear palpable around them as they watched the Chosen One writhe, his eyes flickering as he battle some inner torment they could not fathom.

Anakin was blind to this, he was blind to everything but the memories which were now overwhelming every aspect of his conscious thought, driving out his all-consuming rage, his fear, his doubt. The images and sounds of his former master flew by even faster, leaving Anakin powerless to resist their pull …

_He was at his Knighting Ceremony, kneeling in the middle of a circle of masters as Yoda used his lightsaber cut his padawan braid away. Obi-Wan was watching him, his eyes shining with true happiness and undeniable pride for all his now-former apprentice had overcome to reach this point. Anakin rose, bowed to the masters, and immediately strode over to Obi-Wan. A thousand words of gratitude bubbled to his lips as he extended his hand, intending to thank his master for all he taught him and all he had done. Obi-Wan, however, ignored Anakin's hand and pulled him into tight embrace, one that carried with it all the pride of a father, the affection of a brother, and the joy of a dear friend welcoming him to a world where they could at last count one another as equals. Anakin returned the embrace with every bit of strength his body possessed, his vision blurring as happiness overwhelmed him … _

He was fighting alongside Obi-Wan on the Invisible Hand. The two of them were an unbeatable team, moving in perfect harmony as they devastated the droids that General Grievous had dared to send against them …

The images changed. Obi-Wan was gone, replaced by the ruthless man who called himself Darth Vader. But even amidst the unrelenting darkness, there were flashes of light, glimpses of the man who had taught Anakin everything he knew. Vader staying his hand on the roof the Jedi Temple, sacrificing an opportunity to kill Anakin and Padmé when they refused to join him … Vader smiling in a very familiar way as Anakin sought to draw him back from the Dark Side, then later shielding Padmé from him when Anakin succumbed to the very same rage he had warned his former master against … Vader, recognizing that he was pulling Anakin into the abyss, letting go and sacrificing himself to the ravaging fires of Mustafar so that the younger man might live …

The pain that accompanied these memories threatened to tear Anakin's mind away from his body. He couldn't take this anymore; if he couldn't free himself from this torment he would surely die …

As suddenly as they had come, the dark memories withdrew, carrying Anakin back to his final memory of Obi-Wan as a Jedi. They were standing at the top of the ramp leading to the cruiser that would carry Obi-Wan to Utapau to confront the elusive General. They laughed and talked, trading jibes and parting words as easily as two old friends who had watched out for each other for years should. Neither of them knew, nor had even the slightest suspicion, that this interaction would be the last time they would see each other before the forces of darkness tore them apart cast them as enemies in a brutal duel amidst the ruins of the Jedi Temple.

Obi-Wan's voice reached Anakin's ears across space and time, speaking words that had caused his heart to swell with pride many years ago. "You are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you. I have trained you since you were a small boy. I have taught you everything I know … and you have become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be …"

As he spoke these last, fateful words, Obi-Wan's kind, fatherly face began to blacken and fade, replaced by the cold, fearsome mask that the entire galaxy had learned to fear. The two faces, Obi-Wan's and Vader's, superimposed themselves over one another in Anakin's vision, eventually blending together so seamlessly that it was impossible for Anakin to distinguish the two. As they fell away, consumed by the fires of his unquenchable hatred, Anakin was overwhelmed with agony … his own skin was burning, he was falling behind the mask as well, becoming an inextricable part of the Dark Lord's legacy of suffering.

The Shadow of Vader has fallen over you … 

Then it was all over. Anakin was back in the Emperor's throne room, holding his lightsabers tightly, ready to strike. Qui-Gon's ghostly form still stood before him, and Padmé, Sabé, the Jedi Masters and the Emperor were all watching him with baited breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Anakin felt utterly sick, like he might collapse at any moment. He could not remember where he was or what had caused him to spiral out of consciousness. He could barely even remember who he was. Something kept him on his feet, however, and he looked up at Qui-Gon, searching for anything that would help him ground himself once more in reality.

Qui-Gon smiled and stepped aside, allowing Anakin to fix his gaze on the man who lay there on the floor before him, clinging to life by the faintest thread. Vader.

Anakin warily fixed his eyes upon the exposed portion of the Dark Lord's face. As he did so, Vader's tightly closed eyes slid open, casting their agonized, yet still piercing stare upon his conqueror. It was the first time Anakin had seen those eyes in over five years, and during their last encounter, they had shone red with the savage rage attainable only by complete immersion in the dark side of the Force. Now, however, that fire had been extinguished. Darth Vader's eyes were a pure, steely blue, the color as the eyes that had fixated upon Anakin with laughter, with rebuke, with pride. The same eyes, shining out of the same face which had smiled upon Anakin when he was knighted, but now was contorted with the unspeakable pain of a man who had lost everything and duly awaited for death to sweep over him and bring him to peace.

His master. His brother. His friend. Obi-Wan …

Anakin felt as though he were rising up through a pool of cold, dark water, racing towards the surface after spending years held prisoner in the crushing depths. As he rose, the rage ravaged his soul and driven him to the brink of the abyss began to fall away. The fires of Mustafar which had dominated his vision grew more and more distant in his mind's eye until finally the vanished into the vast nothingness of time. He felt the chains that had strangled his heart and kept him prisoner slacken and slide away, leaving him free, unbound, and blinded by the light of revelation, light he had not seen for years …

He broke the surface at last, and found himself seeing the world as it really was. He saw his wife and his friends, staring at him with open fear. He saw the Emperor waiting with breathless anticipation, his black heart eagerly anticipating the thrill of the upcoming murder. But most importantly, he saw Obi-Wan, his beloved master who he would have given his life for, struggling to draw breath on the floor, the shadow of death which Anakin himself had summoned circling overhead.

All semblance of strength fled from Anakin's body. His lightsabers slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor, forgotten. Hiss legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his knees beside the Dark Lord of the Sith, pain that had absolutely nothing to do with his grievous injuries crashing down upon him like a massive tidal wave. He was drowning in a sea of unspeakable agony, but he did not care. The only thing that mattered was the broken form of his master, lying motionless at his feet.

"Obi-Wan …" he whispered, his voice sounding raw and constrained as he forced it through his tightening throat. The elder man's eyes slid shut, and he heard his master give a strangled gasp that brought with it an upwelling of blood.

"What have done?" Anakin whispered to himself, his mind stricken with shock and his body numb with horror. His vision blurred and all sense of reality began to slip away. "What have I done?"

_What have I_ DONE?

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _The Shadow of Vader has come full circle. Anakin, possessed by rage, has wounded Darth Vader to the point of death and only now come to grips with the consequences of his actions. As his former master's life begins to slip away before his eyes, Anakin must come to terms with what his destiny truly holds for him. He must gather the strength to face the final steps on a path filled with loss, redemption, and deep sacrifice. _

Meanwhile, on faraway Alderaan, Han, Chewbacca, and Lando must team up with an unlikely ally if they are to stand any chance at surviving against the greatest weapon the Empire has ever assembled.


	63. The Fight for Alderaan

Hey guys! It's been a while, I confess: I'm afraid that two month lapses between updates have become a bad habit of mine. Furthermore, I said I would have this particular update posted a few days ago, so now I really owe you guys one. You've been incredibly patient, and I can't thank you enough.

As an apology for my criminally infrequent updates, I have a special treat for you: a double post. I confess that I didn't intend for it to turn out like this, but as you can see, the two sections below are a bit long to fit into one chapter, and though they are happening at the same time, they really don't fit together that well. So they became two separate chapters, and you guys get to read two updates at once. How's that for a peace offering?

ducks the hail of refuse from readers still mad about his infrequent posts at such a crucial juncture of the story

Not the best, I know. In all seriousness, you guys, it feels good to be back. My break will end in a few days and I'll be heading back to college, but though the lapses may resume, it won't be for much longer. After these two chapters, there are only three left in the story (provided incidents like this one don't occur). We have finally reached the climax nearly three years in the making, so I sincerely hope that you enjoy it.

I am still sending out PMs, and though the list is long, please, anyone who wants one, all you have to do is ask. It's no trouble at all.

Thank you for all your incredible responses; I promise when this story is over I will respond to each of you individually. Now though, I give you Chapters 63 and 64. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 63**

"Red Two, take evasive action," Red Three called out over the squadron frequency. "There's one on your wing."

Jax checked his display and saw that he had in fact picked up a tail. Further validation came in the form of twin laser cannon blasts that struck him broadside and forced him to wrestle with the controls to prevent him from spiraling out of control. Immediately he dove to his right, straining the inertial compensation of his fighter to the max. The TIE, which was much lighter than the X-Wing and therefore much more maneuverable, easily stuck with him, laser cannons blazing a nearly continuous trail through space, and Jax was forced to bank up and left, leading his craft through a complex series of maneuvers, jinking and juking for all he was worth. Throughout it all, his pursuer stuck with him, and Jax gritted his teeth in frustration. "I can't shake him!"

"Sit tight, Red Two." Red Leader's steady voice came onto the channel. "I'm on it."

The Captain's X-Wing came soaring in, settling behind the TIE Fighter pursuing Jax. The enemy pilot, realizing that the tables were turning, tried to peel off, but he had no hope of shaking Red Leader. With two quick blasts from the X-Wing's cannons, the TIE spun off and exploded in a shower of fire.

Jax breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Thanks, Leader."

"Keep one eye on your display at all times, Two," Red Leader said by way of response. "There won't always be someone free to bail you out if you get in trouble again."

"Yes, Sir."

Jax returned his attention to the battle. Had he not steeled himself with every vestige of determined discipline he possessed, the sight would have taken his breath away. He had been in quite a few skirmishes during his brief career as an Alliance pilot, and even a few pitched battles. Never had he seen anything like this. This was war at its fullest potential, with massive forces aligned on both sides. So many flashes of light were arcing back and forth between the two lines that it was impossible to tell where any of them were coming from. Already, burning hulks from vessels on both sides were drifting aimlessly through space, and escape pods littered the field, carrying all those who had managed to get off the dying capital ships before they imploded. Jax knew that most of them had little hope. They were too far from the planet for gravity to pull most of them in, and even though the Empire refrained from attacking escape pods, preferring to sweep them up and take prisoners, in such a pitched battle no rescue missions would be launched, and most would probably fall victim to stray fire. It was a bitter injustice, but one that Jax knew that he could do nothing about at this moment. He had to keep his focus with his squadron.

"Sound off," Red Leader called out. "I want a roll call."

Jax keyed his microphone. "Red Two, checking in."

"Red Three, checking in."

"Red Four, status green."

"Red Five, present and ready."

"Red Six, shot to hell but alive."

"Red Seven, likewise."

"Red Nine, hanging in there."

"Red Twelve, reporting."

"Affirmative," Red Leader said evenly. "Status on Eight, Ten, and Eleven?"

"Eight's gone," Red Seven said bitterly. "He was trying to pick one off my tail when three TIE's converged on him and caught him in the crossfire. He didn't even have the chance to go EV – they overwhelmed his shields in seconds."

"Ten's gone, too," Red Twelve said. The youngest member of the squadron, his voice shook slightly as he spoke. "I saw him crash. I think Eleven got out before his fighter was destroyed, but in this crossfire, I can't see him making it."

Jax's heart sank. Red Eight, the squadron's jokester, had been one of his closest friends. He had not known Ten or Eleven as well, but he considered all members of his squadron to be his family. To hear that three of them were gone already was devastating.

"All right, we're moving in again," Red Leader announced. If he was affected at all by the death of three of his pilots, he didn't show it. "Our objective is to provide support for our capital ships. Until reinforcements get here, they're our only hope of slowing down the Imperial advance, and most importantly, keeping that space station out of range of the planet."

"Out of range?" Four asked, sounding fearful. "What do you mean?"

"The Death Star is the Emperor's ultimate weapon, Four," Three said grimly. "It possesses a superlaser with enough power to destroy an entire planet."

"No!" Four exclaimed, panic springing into his voice. "Not Alderaan! Not even the Emperor would be cruel enough to …"

"Enough, Four," Red Leader snapped coldly, in a tone that would brook no argument. "We have a duty to fulfill to the Alliance. If anyone here is not committed to that first and foremost, they can take their chances against the Empire alone."

No one raised their voice, not even Four. Giving no sign that his authority over his squadron had ever wavered, Red Leader issued an abrupt command. "Form up, one wing. We're going in together, hard and fast. Now!"

He opened the thrust and shot off towards the nearest capital ship at maximum acceleration. Jax gunned his engines, taking up a flanking position behind him. The rest of Red Squadron followed in perfect formation, ready for the fight.

They hit the wave surrounding the beleaguered frigate like a blazing spear, tearing through the startled formations of TIE fighters. An entire wing of enemy craft were caught in the inferno of laser fire that went before them and vanished in a flash. Red Leader led them into a dive that carried them around the capital ship, plowing through one group of Imperial fighters after another. Several were destroyed, and the rest scattered. Having gained a temporary reprieve, the capital ship moved forward to engage an enemy cruiser, hammering it with turbolaser blasts.

The cruiser retreated, its forward shields gone from the assault. On a whim, Jax launched two proton torpedoes. At the same time, Red Leader also fired, and their four missiles converged as one on the bow of the ship. With a crushing blast, the entire front half of the cruiser exploded, and the back half spiraled away, trailing flame and opening up a hole in the Imperial line.

A cheer went up over the squadron frequency as the enemy was routed for the moment. Jax felt a flush of exhilaration, but that was nothing compared to the pride that welled up in his chest when Red Leader opened up a personal frequency to him.

"Good thinking, Red Two," he said smoothly. "Way to use your instincts."

Jax could not help but smile. "Thank you, Sir. All on your lead."

The joy he felt was total, but unfortunately short-lived. No sooner had the cruiser been destroyed than another one moved forward from the reserve position to fill the hole in the line. Furthermore, the scattered TIE Fighters began to converge on them again, cutting them off from all support and attempting to pick them off one by one.

Jax's heart sank as he was drawn into a frantic dogfight with three enemy starfighters at once. They had slowed the Imperial advance, but they had not stopped it. They were still outnumbered and outgunned. There was only so much that bravery and determination could do in the face of such unrelenting firepower. As he and his squadron grimly dueled with the greatest forces that the Empire had to offer, a fiery determination rose within him to match their best with his own, for himself and for all those he fought for. At the same time, he was bitterly aware that against the relentless forces of tyranny, even his best might not be enough.

* * *

"Look out!"

Startled the sudden and unexpected warning, Han threw the _Millennium Falcon_ into a barrel roll, sliding deftly, but narrowly, through two streaking beams of light unleashed by one of the twelve Imperial fighters he currently had on his tail. Fighting back the latent nausea brought on by such an unconventional maneuver, he immediately threw his ship into a steep nosedive, one which allowed him to shake off several of the craft pursuing him. Unfortunately, the dive carried into the path of six new TIE Fighters, all of whom immediately joined in the pursuit.

Han banked sharply, forcing the Falcon to make as tight of a turn as he could without blacking out. He tore past the new arrivals, and spotted a narrow gap in the Imperial line. Furiously, he gunned his engines, trying to break for the edge of the firefight.

"To your left! Your left!"

Han swore and instinctively swung the Falcon about again. The miss was much closer this time, and the old craft rattled from the glancing impact of the laser strikes on its shields. A quick assessment told him that the damage was minimal, but by swerving so far off course, he lost his bearings for a moment, and during that brief interval the path to freedom vanished.

Han swore for the third time in less than thirty seconds. "Damn it, Lando, you're not helping!"

"I'm sorry!" Lando shot back over the intercom. Even with though his voice was strained with tension and traces of fear, it was still possible to detect the liberal hint of sarcasm he was infusing into his words. "Would you rather that we'd taken that blast in full on our rear shields and now be that much closer to becoming space dust? You never saw it coming!"

Han gritted his teeth. It was true – he had not anticipated the attack, but he had a million things he needed to worry about right now as he tried to keep himself, his two companions, and his new ship intact in the midst of a deadly space battle. Lando would not be doing any better if he were at the controls. "I'm keeping us alive here, aren't I, Lando? You just focus on shooting those fighters. I notice that you haven't managed to hit any yet!"

"Maybe if you would stop throwing this ship around like a shockball every time I try to take a shot, I wouldn't be just missing them!"

Han was about to respond angrily, but Chewbacca interrupted him mid-retort with a rebuke mixed with a warning. Out of nowhere, a massive Imperial cruiser had materialized in front of their viewport, all of its turbolaser batteries firing straight ahead. It was targeting one of the few Alliance capital ships that had been stationed around the planet, but that made little difference for the Falcon and its passengers right now. If more than two or three of those blasts found their shields, they would be finished.

Han abruptly dove in towards the cruiser, knowing that if he tried to turn and flee now, he would be cut to pieces in the storm of crossfire. He pulled up at the last minute, and his maneuver carried him along the length of the massive vessel, at times coming within a meter of scrapping the hull. At such close proximity, the batteries could not target him specifically, but by sheer luck or some gunner's incompetence, they lanced straight through the heart of the main group of TIEs pursuing them. Six of them were blown to atoms, and the remainder scattered.

Han was relieved for a moment, but he refused to allow the feeling to settle in. He had always prided himself upon his ability to remain confident and in control of himself in any situation. It was how he had survived to this day, scratching out a living among the rougher-edged beings of the galaxy. He knew that if he lost his composure in any situation, it could mean his death. In fact, he had already witnessed just how close the line between being in control and spiraling irreversibly towards destruction was in this battle. By allowing himself to be thrown off guard and directing his anger at Lando, he had nearly committed two fatal mistakes. Luck and his quick reflexes had saved him, but luck could reverse course at any moment, and there was always the chance that his reflexes would be half a second too slow.

That did not mean, however, that he was not going to take chances. You didn't win at Sabacc by sitting on your hand and waiting for your opponent to make a mistake. You had to be aggressive, play off of him, and, when necessary, bluff to let him know that you meant business. Han hadn't chosen this fight, but that didn't mean he was going to let his opponent name the time and place either.

"Chewie, we're going in!" he shouted. "If these ladies want to dance with us, then they better be ready to follow my lead!"

"Han, you're crazy!" Lando exclaimed. "You want to go at them?"

Han laughed, a purely exuberant sound that openly mocked the efforts of the galaxy to chain him down and beat him into submission. "C'mon, Lando, liven up a little!" he called. "This is just like all those hours we spent in the Outlander Club! The night is young, the cards are out, and things are starting to heat up! What more could you want from life?"

"You forgot the fire liquor shots," Lando muttered. "When this is all over, I'm going to need several. And you, my friend, are paying the tab."

"I'll pay it if you can hit a few Imperials before we bust out of here," Han told him, a wide grin settling onto his face. "Let's see what we can do, eh?"

The _Falcon_ shot in towards the heart of the battle, with Han effortlessly manipulating the controls. A hail of laser fire so thick it blotted out the stars surrounded them, but Han was too caught up in the moment to feel afraid. Since he stuck was here, he might as well put on a show, and he was going to make sure that the Imperials paid full price for watching it.

* * *

Jax spun his starfighter about in a tight circle, pulling behind the TIE Fighter that had been targeting him and blowing it to pieces. Having taken care of the last of his pursuers, he turned around to provide support to his wingmates – just in time to see Red Twelve spiral across his field of vision, his engines aflame. A TIE which had been racing towards Jax reversed course and targeted Twelve's X-Wing instead, its lasers pounding the young man's craft into spacedust.

Anger filled Jax's heart, and immediately he unleashed another proton torpedo, knowing that he would never be able to hit the craft with his lasers. The torpedo locked onto the offending starfighter, destroying it instantly, and the shrapnel from the explosion tore apart another TIE which had gotten too close to the explosion. Jax felt a savage rush of pleasure at taking revenge on Twelve's killer, but he knew that in the greater scheme of things that he had acted rashly. He should not have wasted a proton torpedo on an unshielded TIE Fighter. X-Wings only carried six, and he had now used four in this battle – two to destroy the cruiser and one to take out a corvette analog that had been threatening the Rebel frigate they were protecting. He could not afford to waste any more – he might need them later.

Jax took advantage of his brief lull to perform a quick status check. He was in remarkably good shape given how hard he had been fighting – schematics showed that his shields were at ninety percent strength and he had only sustained minor damage to one propulsion engine. The rest of his squadron, however, was not fairing nearly as well. Red Three and Red Five were fine, but were locked in vicious dogfights. Red Four, Red Six, and Red Seven's indicators were all blinking rapidly, indicating that they had sustained heavy damage. Red Twelve had just been destroyed, and Jax saw with despair that Red Nine had been cut of from the rest of the group, taking heavy fire from a full wing of TIE Fighters. Even as he watched, they moved in for a killing run and Red Nine's indicator abruptly went dark.

Jax gnashed his teeth and sprang back into the battle, scattering the guilty wing with a hail of fire. He picked up several new tails, but could not have cared less – he hoped that they would keep their focus on him and not go hunting for other members of his squadron. Laser blasts rang out and Jax's shields began to drop, but he handled his craft well, and none of the shots proved to be a killing blow.

Red Leader was nowhere to be seen. Jax had fallen off of his wing when a full squadron of TIE Fighters had come at them head on, forcing them to split apart. He knew better than anyone that Red Leader could take care of himself, but that did not stop him from furiously chastising himself for failing to stick with his wingman. The number one rule in the unwritten code of starfighter pilots was to always stick with your wingman, and he had broken it, right after his Captain had praised him for having good instincts. No doubt he would be reevaluating his opinion of Jax's capability as a pilot.

He dove in towards the frigate and quickly pulled up, forcing the fighters pursuing him to make an awkward maneuver to adjust. The gunners on the capital ship took out three of them, and the rest split off. Jax felt a moment's relief until he realized that the survivors were changing course to attack his beleaguered squadron mates, who were already outnumbered and locked in a deadly battle of their own.

Jax's eyes narrowed and he opened his throttle to the maximum, racing after them. _Oh no you don't._

Red Five was struggling to hold off a tandem attack by two TIE Fighters, taking damage to her engine. Seeing that reinforcements were on the way, she tried to pull up, a move that would take her right into the line of fire. Just before the two wings could trap her between them, however, Jax raced in, blowing a gaping hole in the closing curtain and allowing Red Five to slip through.

"Hey thanks, Two," she said gratefully, her voice holding a definite note of relief. "Long time, no see."

"Hey, it is Red Two!" Seven exclaimed, sounding both ecstatic and annoyed. "Had to make a big entrance, did you?"

Jax grinned, despite the still-serious nature of their situation. "Didn't want you guys to have all the fun."

"That's the spirit," Seven said heartily. "Between your polished instincts, my raw skill, and Five's gorgeous looks, we make quite the cavalry."

"Must you continue your insufferable flirting even now, Seven?" Five exclaimed, sounding exasperated, yet partially amused. "We're in the middle of a battle, you know!"

"Anything to bring a smile to your face, Five," Seven said mischievously. "Besides, you know what they say: those who bleed together …"

"Hey!" Six's voice cut into the almost playful banter. "How about instead of twittering like lovebirds, the cavalry gets down here and gets these fighters off my tail?"

Focus immediately returned to the battle, and Jax joined Red Five and Red Seven in a concentrated assault that destroyed or chased off all the TIE Fighters pursuing Red Six. At that same moment, Red Three and Red Four raced out of nowhere, falling into formation with them. Four's engines appeared to be damaged, but other than that they seemed no worse for the wear.

"Glad to see that you've been keeping busy," Red Three said. "Where's Leader?"

"We got separated," Jax admitted. "A wing of TIE Fighters …"

"You should have stuck with him, Two," Red Three said seriously. "The Captain may be a legend, but even he needs support sometimes."

Jax bowed his head and fought back his shame. Three was right; he might have performed several acts of heroism already in this battle, but that was nothing compared to the mistake of breaking ranks. Scattering in the face of the enemy was a surefire way to get someone killed.

"Right, if he's not talking to us, then he's probably tied up somewhere," Red Three said matter-of-factly. "Until he makes contact, I'm taking command of the squadron. Form up."

Jax bit back on his tongue, falling into line. Per standard procedure, the responsibility of command technically should have been delegated to him, but Red Three was nearly twenty years older than he was and had a lot more experience. Contesting the chain of command would do the squadron no good.

On Red Three's directive, the squadron split into two wings, with Red Three, Red Five, and Red Seven splitting left to engage a fresh wing of fighters and Jax, Red Four and Red Six heading right to protect the frigate, which was still dueling with the Imperial cruisers. The diminishing line of Rebel ships had been pushed back a good distance, and outnumbered as they were, they stood little chance of stopping the advance – or preventing the Death Star from fulfilling its grim mission.

"It'll be in range soon," Red Four said sadly, as the Death Star crawled forward behind the line of Imperial cruisers. "My home, my family …"

"We'll find a way to stop it, Four," Jax said firmly. "Somehow, we'll find a way."

_But how?_ he thought. The Death Star was massive, and certainly had no weak point to attack that he could see. The Emperor had meant for it to be the ultimate weapon, and that was what it was: an unstoppable force of destruction sent to wipe out the Alliance's last stronghold in the galaxy. He had foreseen their every move, and maneuvered them into a trap from which there was no hope of escape.

But Jax was stubborn, and he refused to roll over so easily, even the face of certain death. There had to be a way …

"Watch out!"

Out of nowhere, a tremendous blast rocked Jax's ship. His shields wavered and he had to seize the controls in a tight grip to prevent him from spiraling out of control. As he reoriented himself, he saw a wing of TIE Fighters – each one bearing blood-red stripes down the side – tear through the formation. Red Four spiraled off, his engines in flames, and Red Six was caught in a punishing crossfire, one that overwhelmed his shields in seconds. Sensing danger, Six tried to eject, but with another pass the leader of the enemy wing unleashed a blast that tore the fighter apart. Six's ejection seat was caught in the explosion, and he vanished in flames.

A crushing wave of sickness descended upon Jax, but he had no time to wonder what had happened. The leader came straight for him, all guns blazing, and Jax needed to take serious evasive action. He spiraled away from the enemy, still trying to remain close enough to the frigate so that he could protect it. Unfortunately, it seemed that his enemy's very goal was to drive him away from his charge. Against his will, Jax found himself growing more and more distant from the capital ship, sliding towards the heart of the battle. He tried every trick he knew to slip away from the other fighter, but the Imperial who was piloting this TIE was good – very good. He easily blocked Jax's progress, keeping up a consistent hammering of his shields. Unprotected from starfighter attacks, the frigate began to take heavy damage.

Jax hit the emergency channel, sending out a call for help. "Three, I'm cut off, and Four and Six are down. Can you give that frigate some cover?"

"Affirmative, Two," Three said evenly. "We're on our way."

Jax returned his attention to the enemy fighter. This pilot seemed to be angling for a one on one duel; his wingmates had fallen off, giving him a degree of space. Jax gripped the control stick tightly. All right, then.

He dove, trying to catch the pilot off guard and pop up behind him. His adversary did not take the bait, instead banking into a tight turn and hammering Jax from above. Jax felt his craft shake as laser blasts glanced off the pilot's compartment, and his shields dropped from green to the beginnings of red. Not good.

Jax set his jaw and pulled up, angling for his foe's wing. He got off a couple of shots before the pilot slipped away from him, dancing out of his line of vision. Jax furiously scanned the radar for him, but there were so many red dots on the screen that he could not tell which one was the Fighter that was actively targeting him. A punishing impact on his rear shields answered his question for him.

Jax glanced at the display and swore when he saw that the pilot had achieved lock-on. He banked as sharply as he could, heading away from open space back towards the frigate. He knew that he should not be leading such a dangerous enemy back towards his charge, but if he did not get more room to maneuver, he would never be able to compete with the TIE pilot's superior versatility. Plus, honor of a one-on-one duel or not, his duty was to his fellow pilots. He could not separate himself from them.

He slid back and forth, taking the most indirect route he could back to the frigate, but his foe stuck with him, hammering him every step of the way. Jax's shields plunged from red to critical – one more good hit would finish them and leave him entirely open to attack. Sweat poured down his brow as he tried to maintain his composure and control his mounting fear.

Somehow, he got back to the frigate, which was now in bad shape. Its shields were nearly gone; like Jax's, they would not last much longer. He could not see Red Three, Red Five, or Red Seven anywhere, but he could not afford to look for them. Even as he pulled in towards his target, a flurry of fire from his pursuer took out his rear shields, leaving his vulnerable engine compartments open to attack.

Jax immediately shunted all remaining power to his forward shields and spun around to face his enemy. The blood-striped TIE bore down on him at full speed, but Jax held firm, carefully arming his two remaining proton torpedoes. There would be no more running for him – he needed to face his enemy head on or perish. If this was going to be his end, he was going to honor all those who had flown on his wing and go down fighting.

Before he could fire, however, a punishing stream of laser fire came out of nowhere and struck his foe broadside. The TIE pilot spun out of control and off course, but his craft did not explode – apparently, unlike most TIE Fighters, it possessed shields. Jax looked around for his rescuer, expecting it to be Red Three or one of his wingmates, but found that he was in for another surprise.

"You know, there's an unwritten rule that wingmates are supposed to stick together," a rough voice told him. "But it looks like both of us still managed to get by on our own."

Jax felt a guilty smile spread over his face. "I'm sorry, Red Leader. I thought …"

"I was dead?" Red Leader said evenly. "When you've been around as long as I have, Two, you learn how to get by on your own, even in a battle as lopsided as this one. You look like you've been handling things here."

"I haven't been doing nearly the job you could have, Sir," Jax said shamefully. "Half the squadron's dead, and the rest are in trouble. We haven't been able to slow the Imperials at all. We've failed."

"Don't get down on yourself, Two," Red Leader said sharply. "That's how good pilots lose their lives, and I don't think you're ready to die yet. Besides, I think the tide may be turning. Look."

Staring in the direction indicated, the young pilot saw something on the horizon - a large group of vessels emerging from hyperspace just beyond the planet's gravity well. They were approaching at full attack speed. Jax's heart sank – they were most likely Imperial vessels, another wave sent by the Emperor to sweep aside all resistance and leave the planet open for annihilation.

"Those are Alliance vessels, Two," Red Leader told him. "The brass at Coruscant must have learned what happened. There's enough of them to slow the Imperials down long enough for us to find a way to stop that Death Star or, at the very least, evacuate a good portion of the planet. You see, Two, as long as good men and women are willing to fight for all that's right and just in this galaxy, there's never any reason to give up hope."

Against all odds, Jax felt his heart lift at those words. The captain was right. Their cause had been founded on the principles of justice and the strength of hope, and as long as they still had both, they could hold out here, no matter what happened. If they believed enough, they might even find a way to win the day, no matter how dark the night seemed or how great were the forces arrayed against them. That was the heart of the Alliance.

Jax was about to thank the captain for his words, but without warning something caught his eye. A familiar ship had appeared in his field of vision, gunning straight for them. It was the TIE with blood-red stripes on the sides, flanked by two wingmen. They were approaching at full speed.

"Sir!"

"I see them, Red Two," Red Leader said calmly. "On my wing."

Jax took up position beside Red Leader between the wounded frigate and the onrushing TIEs. Silently, he steeled himself for the next round of battle. This time, he would not leave his captain's side. This pilot was too strong for either to tackle individually – they would deal with him together or not at all.

"Prepare to fire on my mark," Red Leader ordered. "One, Two … Now!"

Just as Jax's fingers had squeezed the trigger, the pilot dove, taking his two wingmen with him. They looped under the X-Wings and headed straight for the frigate, and Jax realized with a flush of horror what their true target was. Red Leader, having reached the same conclusion, spun on a dime and raced after them, with Jax close behind. The young Rebel pilot fired relentlessly at the diminishing back of his foe, but he knew in his heart that they were too late.

Less than a kilometer before he would have crashed into the hull, the lead TIE pilot fired his full arsenal directly at the frigate's unprotected fuel tank. He pulled up faster than Jax would ever have believed possible, taking his wingmates with him. Jax and Red Leader tried to follow, but their heavier craft could not turn as rapidly as the Imperial fighters, and their momentum continued to carry them onward. The TIE's missiles hit the fuel tank point blank, immediately triggering a massive explosion that tore the vessel apart.

Jax and Red Leader finally managed to pull up, but by then they had gotten too close and could not move fast enough to escape the raging inferno. Fire consumed Jax's starfighter, sending him spinning completely out of control. He heard a rumble like the sound of onrushing death, and then he knew no more.


	64. The Will of the Force

**Chapter 64**

_What have I done?_

The question reverberated in his ears and in his mind, echoing brokenly in the ringing hollow of his heart. The words carried within them complete ignorance and, simultaneously, complete understanding of the situation in which he now found himself, and of the terrible and unforgivable deed, which he had just performed. Nothing about his situation seemed real – the blood, the fear, and above all, the strange lack of pain.

Anakin Skywalker was no stranger to pain. Throughout his life, he had experienced the entire spectrum of agony. He had endured the ravaging fires of physical pain, heinous tortures devised to rend the mind from the body. He had experienced the sharp, bitter emptiness in the essence of his being when he found himself cut off from the Force. Finally, he had experienced loss, the aching absence of a beloved constant which should always have been present, which, when removed, threw his world into complete and total chaos.

Pain had been his eternal companion for the twenty-eight years of his life. Now, at this moment, even as he felt as though his heart had been rent in two, there was only numbness in the hollow of his soul. He felt nothing at all.

For the first time in his life, he was completely alone.

_What have I done?_

"Get up, Anakin," an invisible voice commanded him. It was Darth Sidious. The Dark Lord of the Sith was standing on his dais gazing down at the scene of ruin, his presence laden with cold authority. "There is still work to be done. You must take up your weapon now and finish this traitor to the will of the Force off for good, or else you will never reach your full potential."

The voice stirred Anakin into action. Slowly, he began to edge along the floor towards the dying form of his master, leaving his lightsabers where they lay. He kept his eyes fixed on Vader's face, reaching out hesitantly to grasp his former master's only remaining hand. Through the thick armored gauntlet, he could feel no pulse, and knew that the faintly flickering illusion of life which had sustained Vader for five years would soon follow.

"Anakin, stop," Sidious ordered, his orange eyes flashing dangerously. "It is done. Let him die."

Anakin ignored him and lifted Vader's body off the floor, pulling it into his arms. His heartbeat, the eternal rhythm of his life, seemed to have slowed, falling into perfect time with the agonizingly slow rise and fall of Darth Vader's chest. Together, they remained still, each struggling to hold onto the last thread tying them to reality. One heartbeat. One breath. One life. This semblance of unity, however, was an illusion. They were unified only in their bitter destiny of suffering and the numb absence of any true personal connection, a bitter fact which overwhelmed Anakin more than any pain ever could.

Three times in his life now, he realized, he had been in this situation, kneeling on the ground with a broken heart, holding the still and fragile body of someone he loved in his arms. First, it had been his mother who, after telling him that she was proud of the man he had become, had died in his arms, succumbing to the effects of the brutal treatment she had received at the hands of the Tuskens. Then it had been his wife, Padmé, who had carried within her his two precious children. Despite the tortures that she had suffered at the cruel whim of Assaj Ventress, she had lived, but the aftermath of the fearful ordeal had created scars, both on her body and on their relationship, which Anakin doubted would ever fully heal. And now … now it was Obi-Wan, his face concealed behind the twisted mask and terrible purpose of the Sith Lord Darth Vader, who lay before him, clinging to life by the faintest strands of a fraying thread.

Three times had this happened to him, and each time, Anakin had been wracked by an all-consuming guilt, knowing in his heart that he bore the mantle of failed responsibility for being unable to protect those he cared about. Each time, he had emerged from his guilt by rising up and unleashing his terrible, gruesome vengeance upon those who had dared to shatter the fragile peace of his world. This time, however, was different. There was no one he could lash out at to temporarily relieve his guilt or enact justice. This time, it had been he who had committed the ultimate sin, carrying it to a place far beyond where his transparent attempts at self-justification could help to mitigate the consequences of his actions. Obi-Wan was dying because of him, and now, he was utterly helpless to restore the life which, in a moment of all-consuming rage, he had viciously torn away.

The room was so silent that Anakin could hear his heart beat throbbing in his chest. He could hear Obi-Wan's heart beating as well … but weak. So weak. So close, like the bond that he and his former master had once shared, to fading away altogether into nothingness until it was nothing but another painful memory to scar his soul.

"What have I done?" he whispered for what felt like the thousandth time, but the true answer to that devastating question was no closer to his thoughts than it had been when he had first emerged from the shadows into which he had allowed himself to descend. If anything, it was even further away. "What have I done?"

"That is not the question you need to be asking yourself right now, Anakin," a gentle voice said quietly, drawing him jarringly out of his reverie. "You cannot change the past. It is how you choose to respond to it now that will determine where the future shall lead."

Anakin looked up at the ethereal ghost of the man who had rescued him from a life of slavery on Tatooine and given him the chance to fulfill his dream as a Jedi, a man whose teaching he had unceremoniously shoved to the furthest corners of his mind in embracing his anger, but who now shone as the only beacon of light in a universe that surrounded him with a crushing darkness.

"What do I do, Qui-Gon?" he whispered, his voice barely audible through his tightly constricted throat. "Tell me what to do … please."

The Jedi Master smiled like a father gazing upon his only son. "I have done all that I can, Anakin, in bringing you to this moment. Only you can know what is the right path for you to take from here. You must listen to the will of the Force, and you must listen to the will of your own heart. Trust your instincts, for if you trust yourself, I know that they will not fail you."

With those words, and the final ghost of a smile, Qui-Gon Jinn slowly vanished, merging seamlessly back into the Force and leaving the young man who in life he had called the Chosen One kneeling on the floor next to the torn, broken, and still body of Darth Vader. The other occupants of the room stifled gasps as the Jedi Master melted away from their sight, but Anakin did not seem to notice. He remained rigid, staring fixedly with unseeing eyes at the place were Qui-Gon's apparition had been, as if he alone could still see him. Like his former mentor, his essence seemed to have departed from the physical world.

Though his body remained frozen in time, Anakin's mind was now a maelstrom of activity. So many thoughts and emotions were searing their way through neural pathways of his brain that he felt like he might have an aneurysm, keel over, and pass into eternal blackness. It would be a blessed relief to die, to surrender all responsibility, to share the fate of all those whose lives had been ruined because of his mistakes, his indecision, his fear. His fear, which had unequivocally ruled his life from the moment he had been taken from his mother's protective grace nearly twenty years ago. His fear of loss, his fear of his destiny. His fear of making the wrong decision.

He could not allow his fear to paralyze him, as he had done countless times in the past. Now was not the time for fear – it was the time for action. But what action could he take that would not send the fragile balance point on which they now stood spinning into the abyss? In the darkening void closing in around him, he could see none.

He could not use the power Sidious had shown him to repair the damage he had done. To do so would require giving into his anger, anger that he could not summon through his fear and despair. He had healed Padmé with his love, but that had been different; she had only been dying in the spirit. Obi-Wan was dying in the flesh, as well as the heart and mind. The bond that the two of them had shared had long been severed, and without it he had no way of reaching out to Obi-Wan through the Force to call him back.

Even if he could summon his anger now, would he dare to use it? It had been by surrendering willingly to his greatest anger that he had cut Obi-Wan down in the first place. Furthermore, he had been unable to control the devastating power that his anger brought him, and because of that failure, the true essence of Darth Vader had risen up within him. Through the fires of his ascension, he had nearly consumed his soul. The terrible destiny that had haunted him since his birth had finally caught up with him, and it was only though the miracle of Qui-Gon's intervention that Anakin Skywalker still existed and Obi-Wan Kenobi still drew breath. He could not count on such intervention a second time.

He moved his eyes across the room, looking for something, anything, that could help him understand what he needed to do. His gaze passed over Sidious, the man who had given him nothing but lies and pain from the moment he came into his life. He looked at Padmé, who had been the exact opposite of everything that Sidious represented, a constant source of light and strength, but in this desperate situation, even she could not help him. His increasingly hopeless gaze moved on to Sabé, then Yoda, then Mace …

Mace …

Unbidden, out of the currents of the eternal past, the memory of a long-forgotten conversation settled into Anakin's mind. It had been over five years since he had heard it, but now, in this moment, every word came back to his mind, clear as the day. Master Windu, standing beside him in Royal Palace on Alderaan, speaking to him about what it meant to call upon the Force for answers…

_The Force itself does not provide answers for us on a routine basis. What it does is help us reach our inner self, our purest state of existence, where we are able to examine every conflict in a much more illuminated state. Answers that we believe come from the Force actually come from deep inside ourselves. At this level, no one person is fundamentally good or evil. Therefore, one can choose their course based solely on their own most elemental instincts and principles. These choices reverberate throughout our entire beings and from there expand outwards to affect the lives of others as well. The effect is what determines if the action is perceived by others as good or evil, but only the person who made the choice at this innermost level can truly comprehend its original purpose._

_The only time when the Force itself will provide an answer is when the being in question is so completely torn, so utterly conflicted, that his innermost soul has been torn into pieces. Then, the Force will manifest itself and bridge the gap between the conflicting sides, aiding the being in choosing the right path. Such a thing happens very rarely, usually once in a lifetime. Even then, it is still reacting to the person. The Force, like the beings who touch it, is not purely good or evil. It can lead you to light, or to darkness. But the true power always lies within ourselves. Whatever we hold to be most important in our lives, the Force will flow through us in such a manner as to help us attain our goal. It unifies us on every level, becoming what we call "The Living Force"._

The words poured into the depths of Anakin's mind, sweeping away everything else before them. When Mace had told him that, a short time after Obi-Wan had been revealed to have joined the Sith, he had imagined that he might find himself in such a situation one day. Now, here he was, his soul literally torn between the unsteady light of Anakin Skywalker and the absolute shadow of Darth Vader. Obi-Wan, the shatterpoint of the entire situation and potentially the entire galaxy, lay broken and bleeding in his arms, minutes, perhaps seconds away from joining his old master in the endless embrace of the Force. According to the Jedi Master's words, the Force was supposed to manifest itself and heal his fragmented consciousness, providing the clarity he needed to make the right choice and move forward. But here he was, still broken, still unsure, still hovering between life and death. What was he supposed to do?

Qui-Gon's voice joined Mace's in his memory, repeating his final words of parting wisdom. _You must listen to the will of the Force, and you must listen to the will of your own heart. Trust your instincts, for if you trust yourself, I know that they will not fail you._

He had to withdraw completely into the Force, seek guidance from his deepest sense of self, and trust what he learned there would be the truth he so desperately needed. But how could he trust himself after what he had done? Even now, his instinct, which he considered to be his most fundamental sense of self, seemed to be screaming at him to let go of his enemy and let him plunge into the abyss of death alone. That was what Sidious clearly wanted him to do, to follow his instincts and strike down his foe. How could he possibly be expected to trust his instincts when instincts were nothing but strands of his fate, and would lead him into the arms of a destiny that would bring about the ruin of all?

He had promised that he would stop running from his destiny, but in doing so he had been led to a place far worse than he had ever been before. Indeed, it seems that all paths that he had sought to follow, then and now, in his mind and in his heart, in visions and reality, had led him to this point. Was it truly the will of the Force that things should end this way? That Obi-Wan should die and he should take up the identity of Darth Vader forever?

The darkness was calling him again, reeling him in. He no longer had any strength left to resist, or the courage to try. As the darkness reached it zenith, another voice rang out through his memory, louder than all the others. The voice was very familiar.

_The will of the Force reflects the will of the individual. Our destiny is what we make of it._

Anakin felt a rush of emotion at those words that he could not discern. When he had first heard those words, he had taken them literally, and they had allowed him to see though he might not be able to change his destiny, he could live it in a way that would allow him to retain control of his identity as he followed the path the Force had ordained for him. Now, as he heard the words again, he realized that even then, he had not understood them fully.

Destiny was not a pre-ordained path that he was rigidly bound to walk – it was an endless continuum of choices and their consequences. Its turbulent existence mirrored the dynamic and unpredictable essence of life itself. The only difference between the two was that while life unconsciously threw its energies into raising waves and chaotic tides that would never wash over two different individuals in the same way, destiny flowed eternally onwards to a specific and attainable end. What that end was, however, was entirely up to the individual – the will of the individual projecting itself onto the will of the Force.

As this final piece of the puzzle fell into place, Anakin realized that he could not wait any longer. He had been brought to this moment for a very different reason than the one he had originally envisioned. This was no longer just about him or Obi-Wan. This was no longer about his destiny or the Shadow of Vader. This was about the convergence where life and destiny met one another. This was about how the rise and fall of endless tides affected the lives of every conscious being in the universe. In other words, this was about the Balance itself.

The Son of the Force swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he knew had to be done. He was not going to find the answers he needed on this plane. The only way he would ever be able to break free of the shackles with had bound him was to give himself entirely to the Force. He might drown, or he might discover the breath of new life. Either way, he could not live this tortured life anymore. He had to try.

Anakin closed his eyes and withdrew completely into the Force, going deeper than he had ever dared to go before. He had tried to plumb these depths before in meditation, but at a certain point, he had always pulled back, fearful of losing his identity among the vast, turbulent, ever-changing currents of life which surrounded him. This time, however, he let go of all of his inhibitions, and simply allowed himself to fade away.

A vast universe of potential opened itself to him, and he found himself soaring among the great spiral arms of the galaxy. Tens of thousands of stars were visible just in his field of vision alone, and he knew that there were billions more out there somewhere, just beyond his sight. Some of these worlds held life, others were barren. Some were advanced, while others were barely developed. Some were ancient, and others were just beginning their journey. However, they were all joined together by the same common thread of continuity from which all life had come – unified on every level by the Living Force.

Anakin – if he could even claim that name as his own anymore – took a moment for the first time in his life to revel in the feeling of complete freedom. He could only imagine that this was what Qui-Gon and the others who had merged their consciousness with the Force felt, every second for all eternity. He _was_ the Force, and the Force _was_ him. He felt as though he had become part of every living being on every far distant world in the galaxy, or else they had become part of him - it was impossible to say. He could both see and touch every star and every life at the same time. He shared in their joy for every moment of happiness, and felt their pain for every loss.

He noticed that the light did not reach them all. Some were shrouded in darkness, a darkness that was not malevolent or cruel but simply natural. It was harsher, more unforgiving than the light, but absolutely essential to the eternal cycle of time. The Force, he saw with wonderment, was not split into absolute sides; rather, it was a continuous spectrum, encompassing all that was natural and right within the galaxy itself, both of the light and of the darkness. One could not exist without the other.

Not all was right and good, however. There was another kind of darkness, one which held no substance that he could grasp. It was not so much darkness as an absence of light; a cold, hungry, unnatural void that was indiscriminately pulling everything it could reach into its crushing black abyss. It stood out in the currents of the Force like a black hole, one that was growing ever larger and stronger even as Anakin watched. As his essence began to circle its edge, he heard it calling to him with an eager voice, a voice that masked a delight in cruelty and death with the shroud of a more righteous purpose. It pulled at his darker side, urging him to follow the inclinations of his darkest emotions straight into the heart of the void, to merge with it as completely as he had now merged with the Force – forever.

Clarity began to shine upon Anakin's mind, springing up through the cracks of the wall he had placed around the darkest part of his heart. As it reached his mind, he began to realize the fundamental nature of the mistake he had been making for nearly thirty years. All his life he had been reaching outward, trying to prevent those he loved and wanted to protect from sliding into the void. Only when he failed, as he had with his mother or with Obi-Wan, had he turned inwards, seeking to justify himself. He had never once tried to destroy the void itself, for it was not something that could be fought on the mortal plane. It played upon the weaknesses of his heart, seeking to overthrow him by getting him to surrender to his fear, and that was something he could never defeat. No matter how many minions of evil he killed or how many people he rescued from death, there would always be another to follow. He was trapped in an endless cycle circling the void, and there was only one way to break it.

He needed to turn inward, to find a way to counter each loss with a renewal of life, each fear with courage, each act of rage with one of love. By committing to an absolute ideal of justice - a justice which served the interests all, not just himself - and drawing upon the power of both the light and the darkness in equal measure, he would reach a state of complete harmony, one that could not be overthrown by anyone or anything. Only then, when he was completely at peace with himself, would he be able to reach out and shield others from the void with absolute impunity. With nothing to feed on, the void would collapse in on itself, and eventually, it would die.

This was his purpose, his destiny. This was what he had been made for - to be the perfect embodiment of both the light and the darkness. To destroy the void which had taken those that he loved, he needed to truly become the Hero Without Fear.

In order to balance the Force, he needed to balance himself.

It was so mind-blowingly simple that it made perfect sense to Anakin why he had never realized it before now. In nearly thirty years of life, he had never first asked himself what was the right path to take. He had relied on others for guidance, and though their advice had served him well to an extent, their own interests and intentions, however subtle, had managed to pull him off course. Now, in this moment when he was relying exclusively on his own judgment, the Force raised its voice to speak to him at last, telling him what he needed to do.

Anakin reached even deeper inside his heart and began to examine all the influences which had helped to shape his life. He matched his fear of death with his love for his wife and children, who represented the renewal of life. He aligned his sorrow and anger at the deaths of his mother and his friends with the knowledge that the ones who he loved had never truly left him. He set his rage the injustice in the galaxy against the compassion that rose up in his heart every time he saw one living being perform an act of goodness, however small, to another. So he continued, merging light with dark in this seamless fashion as the Force flowed eternally around him.

As he did all this, the void, which had been threatening to consume everything, suddenly began to distort and shrink. An impenetrable wall of light was forming around it, emanating from him and from the Force itself. The light converged on the void, but though the darkness snatched furiously at it and at him, neither felt even the slightest pull. For the briefest instant, Anakin saw reflected within the void the image of his own twisted alter ego, eyes red with hatred and face shrouded in darkness, standing defiantly against the fires of Mustafar. Then, with a brief, agonized scream, the void imploded and collapsed in on itself, leaving no trace of its existence save for the fading edge of a shadow silhouetted against the now-undimmed brightness of the stars. The natural waves of light and darkness resumed their eternal flux as though nothing had had happened, in one short moment falling smoothly back into perfect harmony with one another. As they did so, Anakin felt a gentle breeze blow over him, as though every living being in the galaxy had just sighed at the same time. He closed his eyes and allowed both the full power of the Force and the breathtaking beauty of the life around him to flow through his heart, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt what he had finally achieved.

_Balance._

As the full meaning of this revelation hit him, his physical world returned. He was back in the Emperor's throne room, kneeling on the cold metal floor and holding something heavy in his arms. He could hear whispers around him, but though he could hear exactly what they were saying, he chose not to react. His mind was still fixed upon the vision of the balanced galaxy, which had faded away, except in his memory. He called upon the Force to savor the feeling for a moment longer, for he knew that he would never again reach such a state, he knew, until the time came for him to surrender his very existence to it. That did not matter. He had brought back within his heart piece of the perfect balance, and that was all that was needed.

As he adjusted once more to the rhythm of life within his chest, Anakin was suddenly conscious of the fact that despite the still-grave nature of his worldly situation, his heart felt lighter than it had been in years. It was as though the entity which he had just destroyed within the Force had dislodged itself from his heart as well, allowing all his emotions to flow freely once more. He recalled the vision of his own face in the void, and realized with a spark of joy what he had done in bringing about the long-awaited balance. The twisted destiny which Bane and Sidious had held out to him as inevitable had been broken. Darth Vader was gone from his soul.

The joy which Anakin felt, however, was immediately tempered with his returning sense of cold reality. The Shadow of Vader might have left him forever, but the Dark Lord who bore the name still remained, clinging to life in the body of his former master. Obi-Wan was not yet free, for Vader was still chained to his soul, and would remain so unless Anakin could defeat the darkness that sustained him once and for all.

Anakin opened his eyes and looked down upon the small portion of Obi-Wan's face that was visible. His friend's eyes were closed and his mouth barely moved as the faint races of life-giving breath passed through them. He was still fighting, even after all he had suffered and years after the galaxy had given up on him.

Anakin's heart welled up with compassion that he could not contain. Obi-Wan had devoted his life to bringing peace and justice to others, and now his soul deserved a little peace and justice of its own. It might be too late to save his brother's life, but Anakin was going to do everything in his power to make sure that his soul found redemption.

Everyone in the room, everyone in the galaxy, was watching Anakin, waiting to see what he would do. As they waited, the smallest hint of a smile reaching Anakin's face, setting his eyes alight. He reached into the Force, calling out to the empty space in his heart where the bond binding him to Obi-Wan had once resided. He could not heal such grievous injuries right now, but he could send his former master a consistent flow of strength, one that would keep him alive until Anakin had removed the more imminent threat.

As he called upon the Force, pure, unadulterated power, the likes of which he had never known by drawing upon the light and dark alone, cascaded through Anakin's veins and into the breach. He felt a rush of exhilaration, but he could not know if what he had done had worked – he would simply have to trust the Force, and trust himself.

Palpatine hissed impatiently as the seconds ticked by Anakin still did not move. He could not understand what was taking Skywalker so long. The boy had a simple choice: to accept his destiny and become great, or to refuse it and become nothing. Did he still need prompting after all that he had done to bring himself to this point? If so, then it was up to no less than the Master of the Force to give it to him. Vader had to be destroyed, one way or another.

"The will of the Force cannot be delayed, my young apprentice," he said coldly. "If you will not do what is necessary, then stand aside so that I may finish off the traitor myself."

_Do what is necessary._

Anakin's eyes flashed coldly, and the new power that he had taken upon himself rose up in a turbulent fury. That had been Vader's ultimate justification, the battle cry for his crusade against the enemies of his Empire. He had been willing to sacrifice anyone to achieve his goal, for it was only through sacrifice, through loss, that one could gain the terrible will needed to perform the necessary actions to bring about such an absolute end in a universe, as Anakin had seen, that craved balance. He realized that his battle was not over. Sidious was the void without, and Vader was the void within. He had destroyed one by bringing balance to himself; now he would destroy the other by bringing balance to the Force.

He no longer feared death, not for himself or for Obi-Wan. Death, as Master Yoda would have said, was but the next great adventure, one that all would take eventually. If this was their time, then they would face it as they had faced countless opponents of justice before the darkness had driven them apart – together.

Anakin gently laid the still body of his former master on the floor and stood up to his full height. His terrible injuries seemed to have healed, or at any rate, they no longer troubled him. He stepped over Obi-Wan and positioned himself between the Sith Lord and his Master. Sidious's eyes widened as Anakin took his stand, his blue eyes burning through Palpatine's orange ones with the intensity of a thousands suns.

"No."

The room in the air seemed to freeze. Palpatine's hateful, murderous eyes narrowed. "_What_?"

"I will not stand aside," Anakin said coldly, his voice taking on a power that exceeded his own. "You have thrown the Force into chaos with your insatiable lust for a power that you can never attain, and it is time for your pitiful and misguided crusade against the free people of this galaxy to end."

Palpatine's eyes bulged in disbelief and his mouth fell open. "Anakin, what are you doing? This is your destiny … "

"So you would have believed," Anakin countered, cutting the Emperor off. "Your vision of my destiny may have led to me murdering my brother and swearing allegiance to you, but your vision of my destiny means nothing to me. I have chosen to trust my instincts, and the Force has led me here, not to kneel before you, but to stand in your way, between you and those who are defenseless against your cruelty. Your entreaties will not move me, nor will your threats to the ones I love cause me to falter. I have had enough of both to last me a lifetime.

"You have failed, Your Highness. I am not, and will never be, your servant. If you try and push me aside, I will tear you down from your throne and cast you into the eternal abyss. Your insidious manipulations can do nothing against the truth. I have passed through fear and death to discover the Balance, and nothing you can say or do will ever sway me from my true path again."

Darth Sidious extended himself to his full height, staring down at the one who had marked as his servant ever since he had learned of the prophecy of the being who would remake the order of the Sith in his own image. From the moment the Force itself had brought Anakin Skywalker – the Chosen One, the Sith'ari, the Hero Without Fear - into being, the Dark Lord of the Sith had done everything in his considerable power to get a hold on the young man's heart, a hold which once established, he would never relinquish. A hold that would shape the greatest weapon of destiny ever created into a sword that only he could wield. For twenty-eight years he had laid plans, crafted insidious manipulations, pulled and hewn at every last strand of love and compassion tying his greatest prospective apprentice to the light. He had destroyed his relationship with the Jedi. He had broken the body and the spirit of his beloved wife. And, in his greatest triumph, he had taken the Chosen One's master, the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi, and bent him to his will, twisting him beyond recognition into a soulless shadow who would guard and enhance the mantle of Darth Vader until its rightful owner was ready to claim it once and for all. All of these things he had done, willingly, eagerly, and in full anticipation of the reward that he knew that he would reap at the end. And now … only now … so close to the fulfillment of his greatest vision, did he realize with an all-consuming bitterness that Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen Son of the Force, was beyond his reach.

All cold rationality and composure fled from him in an instant, replaced by a searing rage the likes of which even one so fully immersed in the Dark Side as he had never known. It burned through his veins, ravaging his twisted body beyond all semblance of humanity, but he no longer cared. He no longer thought of his Empire, or the great victory that his servants on Alderaan, Coruscant, and all across the galaxy were about to bring him. All that mattered was that the insolent, infuriating, _smiling_ man who stood a few meters away from him, _daring_ to defy _him_ - the Lord of Life and Death itself - feel the full weight and excruciating, eternal agony of the vengeance that he was about to unleash.

Raising his crooked, gnarled hands to point directly at Anakin Skywalker's heart, he curled his lip into a terrible, utterly insane snarl and drew out every word with the full power of his uncontained malice. "_You will pay the price … for your lack of vision!_"

A blinding blast of pure energy lanced from his fingertips and flew towards the young man at the speed of light. There was no time to move, no time to react, no time even to think. Padmé screamed in terror as the Emperor's hateful lightning struck her husband fully in the chest with the intensity of a supernova. The brightness of the terrible light was so great that all present were momentarily blinded. All were forced to turn their heads away, unable and unwilling to witness the terrible consequences of Palpatine's vengeance.

The energy surrounded him like a corona, encasing his entire body in its shell. The energy danced across his skin and into his veins, moving around him, through him, permeating every cell in his body. Any other mortal being in the galaxy would have collapsed instantly, wracked by an agonizing torment so great that even the memory of it would haunt them for an eternity after death.

But under the ravaging stream of pure dark-side power, Anakin Skywalker did not fall. He did not waver. He did not even blink.

Palpatine's eyes bulged in disbelief and face stretched into a grotesque mask as he fought to continue to summon and control such devastating power. He poured everything he had into the storm, _willing _with all his might for the object of his greatest hatred to kneel before him and die. But Anakin refused to obey him. Standing unflinchingly with his arms at his sides, he remained unbowed, unbroken, unconquered. Through the shell of crackling power that had surrounded him, the Chosen One's eyes shone with a pure, unrelenting blue light, brighter than any that the Emperor had ever seen. It outstripped the stars themselves.

Palpatine felt his strength flagging, his arms weakening, his heart racing. He could not keep this up. If he tried to channel such power through his insufficient body any longer, the energies would turn on him, and he would be consumed. Unwillingly, he closed his eyes, not ready to face the unthinkable prospect of death. Without any warning, his arms limply fell to his sides and the flow of unrelenting power disappeared, vanishing back into the Force.

The shell of energy surrounding Anakin did not fade immediately, but lingered around him for a moment like a solar flare. Then, slowly, it withdrew, not vanishing, but instead disappearing into his body as though by the force of some silent command. The piercing, ethereal light which shone from the Sith'ari's eyes, however did not fade, but lingered about him, lighting up his entire face with its glow.

Palpatine, his chest heaving, watched him warily, unable to predict what would happen next.

Anakin remained completely motionless for another second, one moment which carried within it an age. Then, with smooth and deliberate purpose, he raised his hand, directing it palm first at the Emperor of the Galaxy. His eyes flashed, and the Force itself shook.

Palpatine, sensing unconsciously what was coming, threw himself out of the way. Not a nanosecond too soon.

A wave of pure energy, far outstripping the terrible power which the Emperor had summoned, leapt from Anakin's palm. As Palpatine tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, it struck the spot where he had been standing only a moment before, tearing a gaping hole in the dais nearly ten meters in diameter. The Emperor's proud, ornately crafted throne was instantly blown into a trillion infinitesimal pieces, none of them larger than a speck of dust.

Palpatine himself was thrown into the air by the aftershock and landed, hard, a good distance away. A bone in his wrist cracked, and he gritted his teeth against the unexpected wave of pain. But he had no time to figure out what had happened. Ears still ringing from the explosion, he clambered to his feet, looking wildly about for the transcendent figure of the Jedi. He did not have to look far.

Anakin materialized in front of him as though he had appeared out of thin air. Palpatine blinked in surprise, but could not afford to debate the mystery of how his adversary had moved so quickly. Calling upon the Force, the Emperor summoned his lightsaber, which shot out of his sleeve into his hand. With a snap-hiss, the sinister red blade sprang into life, its fiery tip pointing directly at Anakin's intensely shining blue eyes. Anakin made no move at all to summon his own lightsaber, but simply stood there, waiting to be cut down. Snarling with fury, Palpatine raised his lightsaber over his head and slashed brutally downward.

Anakin did not try to dodge the blade. Instead, his left hand shot out faster than anyone's eyes could follow. As Palpatine's blade descended, the Chosen One seized the searing blade of energy with his bare hand, holding it in a vice-like grip a meter away from his body.

Palpatine's sickly orange eyes widened in utter shock. Never before had he witnessed something like this – legend held that even for the greatest masters of the Jedi and Sith Orders, such a feat was impossible. Furiously, he tried to force his blade down further, to cut through his adversary's hand and into his neck. But though the lightsaber was directly touching Anakin's bare skin, it did not so much as burn him. A halo of bluish light surrounded the point of impact, resembling the corona which had surrounded Skywalker's entire body a moment earlier. Now, it seemed to be emanating from the Jedi himself.

Fear filling his heart, Palpatine tried to tug his lightsaber away, but Anakin refused to let go. Slowly, irreversibly, he began to bend the blade back towards his enemy's quivering heart. The Emperor called upon every vestige of strength he could from within and outside of his body, but he was utterly powerless to stop the killing beam of light from drawing further and further in to claim the essence of his life.

Just before the tip of his weapon made contact with his own chest, Palpatine let go of his blade. In the absence of resistance, the blade vanished and the weapon spiraled through the air, landing a few meters away. The Emperor hurriedly retreated, backing away from the terrible being before him. His retreat came to a sudden and painful halt when he found his back abruptly pressed against the wall.

"Guards!" he cried out in desperation, a hint of fear saturating his voice. "Help me!"

The Royal Guards quickly struck their prisoners punishing blows to the head, dropping them to the floor. Then they lunged as a unit at Anakin Skywalker, determined to shield their lord, even if it cost them their lives.

Anakin did not even glance over at them. Calmly, almost casually, he made a slow sweeping gesture with his left hand. There was a rushing sound, and all four guards collapsed instantly to the floor, force pikes clattering out of their hands. They were not dead, but they would not be rising again for a long, long time.

Palpatine's knees wavered, and for a horrific moment he thought he might collapse against the wall. By clutching subtly at the pillar behind him, he managed to stay on his feet, and he found himself frozen there as Anakin's shining blue eyes locked directly onto him.

As the Emperor's mind raced wildly, wondering if Anakin might rush him, the Jedi extended his silver-coated right hand and pointed at the lightsaber lying on the floor a short distance away. "Pick it up."

He said it softly, without malice or contempt, but there was an underlying current of authority in his voice that transcended all humanity. Palpatine found himself inexorably moving to obey the command, his fingers twitching involuntarily as though to grasp the hilt. Anakin watched him dispassionately, his aura glowing even brighter than before.

Palpatine's fingers closed around his weapon, and with it came a surge of renewed strength. With a yell of defiance, he thumbed the weapon on and hurled it blade first at his enemy. At the same time, he tore a heavy beam free from the ceiling and sent it rocketing down at the Jedi, knowing that he would have to choose which one to evade.

Once again, Anakin did not move. At the lightsaber shot towards him, point seeking his heart, he stretched out his hand and batted it away as though it were no more than irritating insect. The deadly weapon deactivated and flew away into the darkness, far beyond the reach of either combatant. Simultaneously, Anakin made a slight gesture with his other hand, and the massive beam exploded, shattering into miniscule fragments that rained down upon him like dust from a star.

As he witnessed how futile his attempts to destroy his adversary were becoming, the Emperor lost what little composure he had retained. Madly, he rushed at the seemingly invincible man before him, shrieking with rage, his hands stretched out before him like claws seeking Anakin's throat.

The Jedi caught the Emperor effortlessly in midair, holding him suspended by the throat nearly three meters off the ground. Palpatine hacked and coughed as he tried to draw air into his heaving lungs, struggling desperately to free himself, but his adversary's grip was crushing – there was absolutely no hope of escape. A black curtain began to fall in front of Palpatine's eyes, broken only by the brilliant blue light of Anakin's ethereal gaze. Strength began to flee from him, and Palpatine's heart rate spiked in horror. No … it could not be …

Seconds before he passed out, Anakin spun around and hurled his enemy ruthlessly across the room. Palpatine hit the floor with a sickening crack and rolled like a rag doll, coming to rest a few meters away from the still body of his apprentice. What little breath he still had was driven from his lungs and a wave of brutal agony assailed him. It felt as though every single rib in his chest had been broken. He tried to suck in a mouthful of air, and nearly spit up a stream of blood. That alone nearly caused him to pass out - he could not remember the last time he had bled. Blood was the essence of mortality, and he was …

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Anakin was advancing again, this time with an unmistakable sense of purpose. A sob caught in Palpatine's mangled throat and he clambered backward on his elbows and heels, unable and unwilling to stand up. Anakin continued to advance, every step carrying with it the promise of judgment and death.

Padmé, Sabé, and the two Jedi Masters, their heads still throbbing from the cruel blows that they had received, began to recover and forced themselves to stand up. They watched silently, their expressions a mixture of shock, disbelief, and awe, mixed with the smallest hint of pity for the man who had caused so much pain in all of their lives, and was now having that pain bitterly returned to him. The two women started hesitantly forward, wanting to move closer, but Mace caught them gently by their arms and shook his head. "Let it be," he whispered. "This is not our battle to fight."

Palpatine, who had noticed none of this in his hasty retreat, suddenly found himself pressed up against something hard and unyielding – the foot of his destroyed dais. Frantically, he glanced around for any way to escape, anything that could save him. There was nothing, and he was out of room. Anakin stopped less than two paces away, standing over the Emperor of the Galaxy like the eternal God of Justice, his eyes shining brighter than ever before. Palpatine, cornered and wounded, could do nothing but gaze up at his conqueror in wonder.

This was the being of destiny … the Chosen One, the Sith'ari, fused together in absolute harmony. In this perfect being, there was no light or dark, for they were one in the same. They were inseparable from one another, and always had been. There was only one body, one life, one will … and that will was the will of the Force.

Fear and awe the likes of which he had never felt before overcame Palpatine. Despite the crushing pain in his chest, he scrabbled to his knees, bowing his head before the master of his fate. Words forced themselves indiscriminately through his lips in a high-pitched, broken voice that was nothing like his own.

"My Lord … My Master," he gasped. "All that I have ever wanted … was to witness your true greatness! I am your … your most humble servant. Please, I beg of you … do not kill me. I will do whatever you ask of me … just let me live!"

He closed his eyes tightly, unable to bear the intensity of this god-like being's stare. Never in his life had he degraded himself in such a total fashion, but he found that despite his disgust and humiliation he could not stop himself. The only thing that terrified him more than submission was death.

"Get up."

The authority in Anakin's tone was absolute – he gave no indication of whether or not he had even heard Palpatine's bitter plea. Against his will and conscious thought, the Emperor found himself obeying, rising unsteadily to his feet to face him. His eyes tightly shut, he kept his face pointed directly at the floor.

"Look at me."

The Emperor turned his unwilling face up to gaze upon Anakin's face and into his eyes … those hated, blinding, burning eyes. There was no hint of iris or pupil within them – only pure, unrelenting light. Likewise, there was no hint of either warmth or coldness, compassion or hatred, life or death. They were absolute and uncompromising, and within their infinite depths Palpatine could only read one thing: the promise of doom.

Anakin spoke again, and though he did not raise his voice, every word reverberating throughout the throne room. "Do you know what you have done?"

Palpatine's mind was so stricken with fear that he could barely understand the question. "What?"

"The first step on the path to self-discovery," the Jedi told him forcefully, "is self-awareness. If you are to learn from your mistakes, you must first understand completely the consequences of your actions. You must turn inward, and find within your heart the will to confront your past. You must confront it and, through complete harmony with the Force, come to terms with what it truly means to you … how it will shape your future actions. Finally, and most importantly, you must accept the sacrifice which must be made. With this acceptance, you arrive at the beginning of that path to which your choice has brought you, one to a long, painful, yet true redemption. If you refuse to acknowledge it, you shall continue down the path of self-denial, to find at the end nothing but bitterness and eternal damnation."

His eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "I ask again; do you know what you have done?"

"I … I …"

Palpatine felt as though what was left of his twisted and blackened heart was tearing itself in two. One part of him – the part that was overcome with fear – was pleading silently for him to confess everything, to throw himself at the mercy of his judge and beg for forgiveness. However, the other part of him, which still held his rage and unforgiving pride, spat at the idea of such degradation. He was the Emperor, the greatest Sith Lord ever to live. He answered to no one for his actions, for all was done in the name of his own will – the greatest will in the universe! Even as he struggled helplessly, his pride reached out and with a wave of contempt smothered his fear.

"I … I … I have done nothing!"

Anakin's burning eyes sparked with a flicker of an emotion that might have been disappointment. "I have offered you one chance to save yourself," he said softly. "Will you, even now, in your lowest and most degraded state, refuse this last opportunity for forgiveness?

"There is nothing to forgive!" Palpatine gasped angrily. "I am Emperor! I answer to …"

"Silence."

The Emperor bit down on his tongue, compelled into bitter compliance. Anakin shook his head resolutely at the man who had ruined more lives than could ever be counted in his insatiable lust for power, who even now could not be persuaded to see the wrong that he had done. There was only one thing left to do.

"Get down."

Palpatine fell back to his knees, staring fixedly up at Anakin's cold, unforgiving face, all hope of mercy now gone from his mind. The path to his greatest vision had been irreversibly cut off through his condemnation, and now the only thing left was punishment.

"Darth Sidious," Anakin said coldly, "you have now presided over the people of this galaxy for eighteen years. During that time, you have manipulated them, oppressed them, tortured them, and cut down all who dared to stand in your way. In doing this, you have not only tarnished the legacy of the Sith Order, you have thrown the balance of the Force into chaos and broken the sacred trust which those you considered to be beneath you placed in their government. To carry out your will, you created weapons of mass murder and created in your own image a terrible specter at whose very name the innocent and the guilty alike would tremble with righteous fear. You freely acknowledge that in doing this you have followed only your own will and twisted purpose, and now, even as you stand on the brink of losing all that you have sought to gain, you have refused to accept the chance for forgiveness … and so committed the greatest sin of all. You leave me no choice. I must do what is necessary."

Palpatine's eyes widened with fear. "You will not cut be down in cold blood!" he gasped. "That is not the way of the Jedi …"

"Lord Sidious, I am no Jedi," Anakin said flatly, cutting the Emperor off in mid-plea. "In that, at least, you were correct. I am something that cannot be so easily defined, and without letting go of your uncompromising views of light and darkness, you will never be able to understand. Regardless, I will not kill you – death is a mercy which you do not deserve. As the messenger for the will of the Force, there is only one thing that I can do remove your diseased influence forever."

He stretched out his left hand and placed his thumb and adjacent finger on Palpatine's temples, stretching his hand across his brow. Having no idea what was about to befall him, Palpatine struggled feebly, but Anakin's grip was inescapable.

Without warning, something rammed into his mind like a durasteel piston, driving out all conscious thought. A surging rush of fragmented emotions and old memories overcame Palpatine, leaving him paralyzed. Among the countless faces of those he had crossed he saw his old master, Darth Plagueis, whom he had murdered, and Pablo-Jill, the Jedi Master whom he had subtly used in bringing about the downfall of the Jedi. As they raced past, he became aware of a foreign presence, digging deeper and deeper through his thoughts toward the heart of his mind. He tried to resist, but was swept aside as the unstoppable force descended towards the pulsing dark center. It made contact … and pushed.

Without warning, a blinding, all-consuming pain wracked his body. It spread like a raging fire through every vein in his body, lancing mercilessly into every cell. He heard himself scream aloud, and wondered if this was the end …

Suddenly, it was over. He was kneeling on the floor in front of the dais, shaking and alone. Anakin had retreated, and as Palpatine raised his head, he saw that the terrible, ethereal light had left the young man's eyes. Anakin's face was covered with sweat and blood, and though he still stood tall and unconquered, his god-like aura had faded away. He now resembled nothing more than a normal man, still powerful … but mortal.

Palpatine began to laugh, a release brought on by both relief and a sense of triumph. Skywalker's sense of mercy had won out in the end … even now, he could not bring himself to cut down his enemy in cold blood. It was the _Invisible Hand_ all over again, but this time, Palpatine was free … free to punish the presumptive young fool for his weakness.

He stood up and raised his hands again. Anakin did not move; he merely stood staring at his laughing foe with a cold, pitying expression. Palpatine sneered at him and with a flash of rage, called to his fingertips the power to smite the Chosen One.

Nothing happened.

The Emperor tried again, but though his rage had reached its peak, he was not able to summon the lightning. In disbelief, he abandoned his efforts and reached for the ceiling, trying to pull it down on Anakin to crush him. Again, nothing happened.

Anakin was smiling now, a humorless expression that did not reach his eyes. The four bystanders watched in awe as the tyrant tried desperately to recall his power, without success. As they stared and Anakin smiled, Emperor Palpatine slowly and fearfully realized what had happened. He staggered backward, nearly falling into the gaping hole behind him as the full magnitude of the most terrifying and unbelievable revelation he could ever have envisioned slammed into his heart.

_He could no longer touch the Force._

As he clutched desperately for the currents of power that were more essential to him than life itself, Anakin began to speak. Even overcome as he was with numb horror, Palpatine heard every word he pronounced, and every word burned itself into the twisted fragments of his soul.

"Now you know, at last, what it means to feel loss, Palpatine," the Sith'ari said dispassionately, the blue gleam dancing once more beneath the surface of his eyes. "To be cut off from the Force, from life itself, is more painful than you ever envisioned it would be, is it not? You abused your power by using it to destroy the very life on which it depended, and so I have taken your power from you. Henceforth, I cast you out from your Empire and from the Order of the Sith. For the rest of your life, you will no longer hold sway over anyone or anything but yourself. You must learn to live in harmony with others, or else you will die alone."

For the first time since Anakin had cut himself off from her, Padmé, watching from a short distance away, felt a true smile rise to her lips. In all of her wildest vision of Palpatine facing trial for his crimes, she had never envisioned that it would be like this. If ever there was a punishment so complete and devastating that it could inspire her old misguided colleague to see all the wrong that he had done and perhaps find some measure of understanding, perspective, or even regret, this was it. This … this was true justice.

Unfortunately, as happened ever so rarely, Padmé's compassion overshadowed her reason, for, not surprisingly, Palpatine did not see things in the same way. The deposed Emperor stood rigid with shock, staring in disbelief at the Chosen Son of the Force who, in one brief moment, had stripped him of everything that it had taken him a lifetime to build. Skywalker had assigned him to the only fate that Palpatine considered to be on par with death: irrelevancy. He now wielded no more influence that the cringing, worthless slaves on whose backs he had built his New Order. The Death Star might destroy Alderaan and the Imperial Fleet might crush the Rebels, but he would not be able to claim the triumph as his own. On the eve of his greatest victory, he had been cast down by the one he had marked as his servant and sent into eternal exile. Without the Force, he could no longer rule his Empire. Without the Force, he could no longer be Master of the Sith. Without the Force, he would not be able to transfer his consciousness into the clone bodies he had prepared when his original body eventually failed him. Without the Force, he would die.

Without the Force, he was _nothing_.

"Go," Anakin interrupted his desperate thoughts coldly, staring hard at the cringing creature before him and extending his silver hand to point towards the turbolift. "I have given you your life. Take it and leave this place. Find a world where you can do no harm and stay there, coming to terms with all you have lost and why. I will not look upon you again, unless you come with a clean heart, free from hatred and ready for forgiveness."

As Anakin's voice burned into his mind, pronouncing with finality his ultimate exile, the very last strand tying Palpatine to rationality and reason, to humanity itself, snapped. Even as he felt his feet begin to move involuntarily in the direction that Anakin had indicated, he felt the darkness that was still infused in his heart rage against him. He was going to accept this? He was going to allow Skywalker to pass judgment on him? He, the rightful Emperor, was going to march quietly into exile and death while the usurper claimed his throne over the galaxy?

"NO!"

Palpatine sprang to life, moving faster than he could ever have believed possible in such a state. He rushed at the four bystanders who had been watching the entire scene in a mesmerized state and seized his old colleague Padmé Amidala by the throat, dragging her away from her friends and her husband. Padmé, caught completely off guard, was unable to free herself. She clutched desperately at Palpatine's gnarled hands, but the crazed former Emperor refused to loosen his grip.

Anakin rushed forward, the bluish light now streaming from his eyes once again like a hellish fire. Sabé dove and tried to grasp her friend's hand, with Mace and Yoda close behind. All of them, however, were forced to stop dead in their tracks when Palpatine pulled a long silver knife out of his sleeve and pressed it mercilessly against Padmé's throat.

"Not one step further, Skywalker," he hissed malevolently. His eyes held no power now, but they still shone sickly orange with absolute hatred. "Not one step further."

Anakin gazed into the stricken face of his wife, then turned his terrible gaze upon Palpatine. Every word was infused with the full might of the Force.

"_Let her go_."

"No," Palpatine spat, digging the blade in further. "She always was your greatest weakness. Even now, when you hold absolute power, you refuse to take any risk that might endanger her life. Give me back my power, and I will let her live."

Padmé, her deep brown eyes open wide, shook her head frantically at Anakin, and received a jab from her enemy. Padmé's skin broke, and a line of blood ran down her smooth neck. Anakin's eyes flashed mercilessly.

"I cannot return your power to you, Palpatine," he said icily. "And you know that the second you raise your hand to hurt her, you will lose your life."

"I have no life to lose!" Palpatine howled, now utterly and completely deranged. "You've taken _everything_ from me, Skywalker! _EVERYTHING_! And now you want me to bow before your will. No! By the balance you claim to serve and whatever hell awaits me, I will make sure that you lose that which is most precious to you!"

He drew back his arm, preparing to drive his blood-stained blade deep into Padmé's heart. Sabé cried out and Anakin sprang forward …

Without warning, a terrible scream shattered the air. Anakin stopped, all trace of god-like power vanishing from him as he stared helplessly at his stricken wife. But it was not Padmé who had screamed. It was Palpatine, who had released his captive and was now staring in utter disbelief at the twisted, mangled, and cauterized stump where his right arm had been only a moment before.

Mace, Sabé, and Yoda all looked at Anakin, wondering how he had managed to perform such a feat. But Anakin was not moving. He was staring, transfixed, at the dark shadow that had materialized behind Palpatine, and the light which it carried.

Slowly, fearfully, Palpatine turned to face the shadow. As he did, the darkness fell away and the deranged Emperor found himself staring into the cold, vengeful face of …

His former apprentice.

Darth Vader stood before him, stretched to his full height of over two meters. Blood stains covered nearly the entire front plate of his armor, and his life-support controls were flickering incessantly. Nevertheless, from the small part of his face that was visible, his eyes shone with a determined fire, and in his hand, he held a lightsaber with a searing blue blade – the same one that Anakin had used to wound him to the brink of death.

Palpatine seemed to wither, shrinking almost to the floor. "Lord Vader …"

In response, Vader reached up to the remnants of the mask which was still tightly bound to his face. With one smooth motion, he tore the mask free and cast it aside, exposing his true face to the natural light of the galaxy. As Palpatine cowered before him, the man who had been given up for dead years ago curled his lips into a familiar sardonic smile.

"You are mistaken, _My Lord_," he said coldly. "I answer to Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

Sabé immediately broke down in tears, and an amazed smile crossed Anakin Skywalker's face. Palpatine, utter, undisguised terror now frozen on his face, screamed again and ran, sprinting in an ungainly fashion for the ruined dais of his throne. He did not get far. His former apprentice vaulted into the air, landing easily in front of him and cutting off the last chance of escape.

Palpatine, out of all hope, prepared to fall to his knees, but he would never get the chance to plead for his life as he had with Anakin. The light in his eyes shining every bit as bright as Anakin's, Kenobi drew back his lightsaber and, with cold and deliberate purpose, ripped it through the former Sith Lord's chest. A terrible rattle escaped Palpatine's lips as the cruel man let out his final breath, and then he collapsed to the floor at the foot of the dais. His body did not explode with Dark Side energy or vanish into the Force, but simply lay there, cold, broken, and unforgiven to the last.

Obi-Wan deactivated Anakin's blade and let out a deep breath, allowing his arms to fall limply to his sides. The strength that he had somehow summoned to pull himself back from the edge of death seemed to be slowly leaving him, and he suddenly appeared extremely tired. Nevertheless, his gaze found his friends, who were all staring at him in amazement and joy, and he managed a small smile.

Sabé, tears of vindication gathering in her eyes, rushed forward to meet him, her arms out stretched. Before she could reach him, however, Anakin caught her arm and pulled her firmly back. The fiery young woman glared at him with confusion and anger, but Anakin stifled her concerns with a pointed glance. Something was not right.

Around Obi-Wan, a breeze was stirring, ruffling the ends of his cape. Though Palpatine's body remained utterly still, something seemed to be rising up from it – something dark and foreboding. It gathered around the restored Jedi Knight like a thundercloud, obscuring his features, and from its depths sinister whispers could be heard, calling out in ancient tongues. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in confusion and fear, and Anakin stepped forward, trepidation building in his heart as he realized what was happening. "Obi-Wan …"

Without warning, the cloud descended upon the Jedi, diffusing into his body. Obi-Wan immediately doubled over and cried out, wracked by terrible convulsions. Sabé cried out as well, Padmé gasped, and the two Jedi Masters stood paralyzed, at a total loss as to what was happening. Anakin, however, knew with terrible certainty what this was. As Sabé tried to move forward again, he gently pushed her back into Padmé's arms. "Stay here," he said firmly. "You cannot help … not with this"

The Chosen One sprang forward, drawing level with Obi-Wan and seizing his former master by the shoulders. As he did so, he felt the dark force latch on to him as well, seeking insidiously to bury itself in his mind and so overcome him. Anakin resisted the pull, and addressed himself to the entity with every scrap of defiance he possessed.

"Bane!" he called out. "It's over. Let him go!"

The Sith Lord's face rose out of the currents flickering before his vision. It was distorted; he seemed to be caught in the pull of a looming eternal void and was desperately grabbing at anything that would allow him to avoid such a fate.

_NO!_ he screeched, his orange eyes blazing out of his ravaged face. _NO! He is my servant!_

"Not anymore," Anakin said coldly. "Let him go."

In response, Bane tried even harder to penetrate Anakin's defenses. The visions of the past that might have been assailed Anakin's thoughts, but with the new insight given to him by the Force, Anakin was able to dismiss them for what they were: echoes of a possible destiny whose calls he had successfully resisted, and which now held no further sway over him.

_This isn't how it was supposed to be!_ Bane shouted, now sounding increasingly desperate. _The mantle of Lord Vader was yours! You were the one ordained by the prophets, destined to rebuild the Order of the Sith!_

"And now the Order of the Sith can be rebuilt," Anakin told him. "It can follow the path its should have followed from the beginning, an order dedicated to exploring the nature of the Force through their passions and emotions, rather than one dominated by hatred and delusions of conquest. I may be the Sith'ari, but that does not mean that I do not have a choice. And so does Obi-Wan."

_You will never reclaim him_, Bane shouted derisively. _He is too far gone. Lord Vader has claimed his soul, and as he survives, so does the Force's vision for his destiny._

As if to prove his point, Obi-Wan's head suddenly snapped up, his eyes blazing with yellow hatred and his face fixed in a terrible snarl. Almost immediately, the expression, disappeared, replaced by clear blue eyes and a pained expression. Obi-Wan, wracked by convulsion and with blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, looked up at his former apprentice. "Anakin …"

"Fight it, Obi-Wan!" Anakin called out desperately. "You can free yourself from him – you just need to fight!"

Obi-Wan hissed with pain and his eyes rolled back into his head. Anakin was suddenly aware that Bane, slipping into the void and increasingly aware that Anakin could not be conquered, had abandoned his efforts to get a hold on him, and was now clinging solely to Obi-Wan. Unwilling to let go, Anakin tightened his grip on his former master and tried to get him to open his eyes, hoping that the sight of something familiar would help Obi-Wan ground himself and give him the strength to resist. He soon realized, however, that Obi-Wan was so gravely injured that his ability to call upon the Force to aid him was severely limited. Anakin, guilt consuming him, sent his former master all the strength that his own injured body could give, hating more than anything in the galaxy this feeling of his helplessness as he watched his brother struggle for his soul.

Obi-Wan heard Anakin's voice as if from a great distance and felt a surge of hope as he knew that his best friend would not abandon him. However, that hope soon began to fade in the face of grim reality as Vader and his Sith legacy mounted yet another attack on his mind. Grimly, he fought them off once more, but the effort of doing so left him so drained that he thought he might collapse. The sickening pain from the wound in his abdomen redoubled, and he felt blood spill from the corner of his mouth. He called out for his apprentice, and heard Anakin respond, urging him to fight. Obi-Wan tried to tell him that he would, but his voiced died in his throat and was stricken with agony as Vader ravaged his mind once again. With every bit of strength remaining to him, from both himself and Anakin, Obi-Wan turned him away and sent him flying back towards the edge of the void on which Bane now hung. His heart burning with uncontrollable fury, Vader began to claw his way back up the slope, relentlessly refusing to give in no matter how much it cost him.

Obi-Wan waited, knowing that this was the end. He was too weak in his present condition to resist Vader again. The Sith Lord would reclaim his position, and this time he would destroy Obi-Wan completely, rather than banishing him to the furthest depths of his soul. He would set out to reclaim his purpose, and this time he would show no mercy to Anakin, to Padmé, to Sabé, or to any who stood in his way. All hope would be lost, unless …

Obi-Wan turned his bloodstained face up to look at Anakin. The boy whom the Jedi had taken from Tatooine had grown into a man strong enough and brave enough to restore balance to the Force and overthrow the embodiment of darkness itself in his heart. His gaze moved to Sabé, the woman he had loved, who in five year had never given up hope that he could come back. He saw Padmé, Mace, and Yoda standing there as well, his dear friends who had done so much for him. All had bright futures, untainted by darkness, unless he allowed the terrible scourge that was Vader to escape and seize the galaxy in his iron fist once more. There was only one way to ensure that Vader could never come back, and Obi-Wan knew that he owed it to everyone he loved to take it.

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin and smiled. Anakin's eyes went wide with fear as and he tightened his grip on his shoulders, shaking his head and shouting words that Obi-Wan could not hear. Obi-Wan resolutely closed his eyes for what he knew would be the final time and turned inwards to confront his destiny.

_There is no emotion, there is peace …_

Vader reached the heart of his mind, the fires of the Dark Side roaring through his veins. He charged Obi-Wan mercilessly, intent on complete destruction. Obi-Wan did not fight back, but instead opened his heart and seized Vader in a vice-like grip, trapping him in a halo of impenetrable light. In such close proximity, their souls began to fuse together, becoming one.

_There is no passion there is serenity …_

At first, Vader laughed mockingly, confident that he had at last overpowered his oldest enemy. His triumph, however, quickly became fear as he discerned Obi-Wan's intentions. The Dark Lord of the Sith began to struggle, inflicting unimaginable pain upon both of their souls, confident that he could outlast the Jedi through such agony. But Obi-Wan would not be distracted, and slowly he led them to the precipice.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge …_

Bane screamed desperately, encouraging Vader to fight on, but the Sith Lord could not free himself from Obi-Wan's ruthless grasp. The love with which Obi-Wan had filled his heart burned the shadow's very essence in a way that far outstripped the fires of Mustafar. As the Force opened its eternal embrace to receive its own, Obi-Wan let himself be secure in the ultimate truth: that the sacrifice that he had made would not be in vain.

_There is no chaos there is harmony …_

Obi-Wan heard Anakin calling him desperately, pleading with him, but it was too late to turn back now. The smile which had remained on his face grew wider, and he allowed a sense of peace to fill him as he held on tightly to both Vader and Bane, carrying them over the edge and into the eternal springs of the fast, turbulent currents of power from which sprang all life in the galaxy.

_There is no death, there is the Force._

And in that moment for the first time in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi gave himself completely to the darkness.

**Next Chapter**: _C'mon, you really think I'm going to tell you what happens next chapter after a cliffhanger like that? You'll just have to wait and see. I promise that I will try to get the update up as soon as possible for those of you who don't like suspense._


	65. The Fallen and the Redeemed

Hey everyone, as ridiculous as it seems, there's now an update for **The Shadow of Vader**!

I have to apologize to all of you to start; I've had the segment below ready for some time now, but I hadn't posted it because I've been restructuring the final few chapters of this story. I had hoped to fit everything that you will see in this chapter and next into one chapter, but as you will see, it was going to be far too long. So I've decided to add another chapter after this one (I'm still working on it) that will cover everything that didn't make it into this chapter, and then the final chapter and the epilogue will proceed as planned. Now that I look at it, this structure actually looks better than the original - I don't know why it took me so long to pull the trigger on it. I guess I'll have to chalk it up to a long, sleepless year of college ... just kidding, that's no excuse. grin

We're very, very close to the end now. I will seriously do everything I can to bring you the final chapters as quickly as possible. But since my good word is shattered because I kept you hanging on that cruel cliffhanger for about three months longer than I had hoped and/or planned, I'll shut up for now and let you read my long stream of psychobabble later. Enjoy the next chapter, and with it my sincere apologies for your well-justified frustrations.

* * *

In the skies above Alderaan, the battle for the heart of the Rebellion raged on. The stars revolved gradually in an unbroken circle around the storm of fire which had erupted at the heart of the system. The newly arrived Rebel Fleet Group under the command of General Rahm Kota had soared into position and was now doing everything it could to assist its beleaguered allies in obstructing their enemies' path. Yet still the Emperor's servants marched on, flanking their seemingly unassailable weapon as it moved ever closer towards the position where it could rain death upon the world below.

Behind the advancing Imperial lines was a graveyard littered with twisted metal expanding clouds of dust – all that tangibly remained of those given their lives in the service of both causes. Those who had been lost were now at peace, but they were not alone.

Jax Bronson came to slowly, as if waking out of a deep and interminable sleep. His head throbbed mercilessly, and as he raised his hand to cradle it, he felt something warm and wet sliding down the side of his face. It was blood. The young Corellian winced as a fresh wave of pain hit him. He must have struck his head on the front viewport when his starfighter spun out of control, but he could not remember how exactly it had happened. One minute he had been flying alongside Red Leader, and the next he …

Jax's other concerns immediately vanished. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull, he sat up and began to scan his sensor display furiously for any sign of his captain's craft. The display was overwhelmed with interference as his astromech and the X-Wing's internal computer worked in sync to bring all the starfighter's systems back on-line from standby. Amidst the fluctuating waves of static, there was no sign of Red Leader.

Impatience overcoming him, Jax hit the display with his right hand, knowing that it would do no good. Amazingly, however, the display settled into focus. Jax scanned it with a renewed determination and almost immediately noticed a single blue dot blinking faintly in the corner of the screen. His heart leapt into his throat.

Jax seized the controls of his starfighter and keyed in the start-up sequence. After a few tense moments, the engines caught and the X-Wing whirred to life. Jax quickly brought the craft around and soared off in the direction of the signal.

After a few seconds of anxious searching, he saw it. Red Leader's starfighter was hanging motionless in space, drifting amid the wreckage of the destroyed Alliance frigate. It was heavily damaged – two S-Foils had been completely blown away and three of its four sublight drives appeared to be out of commission. There appeared to be no sign of activity inside the tinted cockpit. Real worry now settling upon him, Jax opened a channel. "Red Leader, this is Red Two. Are you all right?"

There was no response but static. Jax tried again. "Red Leader, if you can hear this, please answer me! Say anything!"

There was the hiss of more static, and then Red Leader's rough voice responded. "Is that you, Two?"

Indescribable relief flooded Jax's mind. His captain's voiced was pained; it sounded as though he had suffered some sort of internal injury. Still, the legend had survived, and that was more than most pilots could say after such a deadly encounter. "Yes, Sir. You had me worried there for a moment!"

"Worry about yourself, Two," Red Leader told him. "What's your status?"

Jax performed a quick check. "My fighter's in good shape; minor damage to a few systems. My head feels like it just went through a nerf stampede, but it's nothing that'll hold me down."

Red Leader made a noise that sounded like something between a sigh and a painful cough. It took Jax a moment to realize that the captain was laughing – something that he had never heard him do before.

"Very good, Two, I'm glad. You're going to need to be at full capacity in every respect if we're going to win this thing."

Jax frowned. Something about that statement didn't sound quite right. "Sir?"

"The Alliance is making its last stand, Two," Red Leader told him. "Those reinforcements may be enough to hold back the Star Destroyers, but they're not going to be able to do anything against the Death Star. The Emperor thinks he has covered all his bases."

"I hate to say it, Captain, but I think he has," Jax said bitterly. "He knew we coming at Coruscant, so he decided to strike us where he knew it would hurt the Alliance the most, and to do it in a way that would shock the rest of the galaxy into submission. That Death Star … it's invincible."

"No," Red Leader countered with surprising harshness. "That's just what Palpatine, in his lasting arrogance, has forced himself to believe and what he wants everyone else to think. It may look invincible, Two, but the Death Star has a weakness, and that weakness can be exploited."

Jax's heart began to pound again. "Captain, what do you mean?"

"Conventional wisdom holds that something the size of the Death Star is unassailable. That's true … but only up to a point. The station's defenses are geared to stop a large-scale attack. A small one-man craft like a starfighter would be able to slip through the perimeter and target the flaw in its design."

Jax managed to hold back his surprise. He didn't see any way that a craft the size of an X-Wing could ever tackle something like the Death Star, but maybe his captain knew something that he didn't. "How?"

"There's a long trench running along the station's equator. At the end of that trench is a small thermal exhaust port, about two meters in diameter, leading directly to the main reactor. It's ray shielded, but if you can sink a couple of proton torpedoes into it, it would trigger a chain reaction that would tear the entire station apart."

A thousand questions sprang into Jax's mind. A small thermal exhaust port at the end of a long trench, only accessible to a small craft like a starfighter? It all sounded ludicrous, too crazy to be true. Was such a feat even possible? And even if it was, how in the Nine Corellian Hells did his captain even _know_ about this?

"So you're saying that you want to lead an attack?"

"Not me, Two," Red Leader said pointedly. "You."

"Me?" Jax's mind felt like it had been hit by a turbolaser; everything seemed to be out of place. "But I …"

In a flash, he realized what was his captain was actually inferring. He shook his head frantically, not believing what he was hearing. "No … no, I can't …"

"Yes, you can," Red Leader said flatly. "I wouldn't have chosen you as my wingmate if I didn't think that you were capable of leading the squadron. In all the battles we've fought together, you've never let me down, and I know that you don't intend to start now."

"But Sir, the squadron's been cut to pieces! I can't pull them back together; I'm not … I'm not you!"

"You're right, you're not me," Red Leader said calmly. "You're your own man, and a good thing too, because I have made many, many mistakes in my life that I have cost me and those I cared about dearly."

The battle had not entirely passed them by. A wing of TIE Fighters was approaching, heading straight towards them while building towards attack speed. Jax frantically punched the transmission button, addressing his captain once more.

"You've got to get out of here. Go! I'll cover your retreat until you can make the jump to lightspeed."

Red Leader laughed again. Something fluid had filled his throat, nearly strangling the sound. Jax could barely believe what he was hearing. His captain was a legend; wasn't he supposed to be invincible?

"Three of my engines are shot, Two," Red Leader told him seriously. "My weapon systems are fried, my canopy's been fractured, and my air supply is leaking. I can't even hold my breath after all the knocks my old body took following that explosion. I've got about four and a half minutes left before I start sucking vacuum, and I won't even make it that long if I try to go into hyperspace. This is the end of the line for me. It's your turn now."

Against his will and every military instinct, Jax felt hot, bitter tears beginning to well up in his eyes. First his parents, then Commander Calton, now Red Leader. Was he going to lose everyone he had ever looked up to?

"I won't leave your side, Captain," he said defiantly. "I'm your wingman, and I'm going to stick with you no matter what happens."

"Listen to me, Jax …" Red Leader said heavily. Jax froze – never, since he had joined the squadron, had he heard Red Leader address him by his real name. He had sworn that he would never do it, unless he no longer considered himself to be captain of the squadron …

"I have to tell you something and you need to listen. Before I joined the Alliance, I was … I was an Imperial contractor. Under the direction of Count Dooku and then Governor Tarkin, I worked on the plans for the Death Star, and I helped to oversee the early phases of design and construction. I was young and idealistic, foolish enough to believe that what we were doing would change the galaxy for the better. When I realized what I had done … what I had helped to create … I was overcome with shame. I left the Empire, and joined the Alliance in the hopes of saving those lives which through my sins I had placed into the line of fire. Now I can see that I will not find my redemption in this life, but you can, Jax. You can help to end the shadow which has risen and usher in a new day for all."

Jax's astromech bleated a sudden warning; the TIEs were closing fast. They would be in attack range at any second. Jax looked out the viewport at his captain one more time and, despite his doubts, was seized by a sudden iron resolve. "I'll do what I can, Leader. I swear to you that if it takes my life, I will see that station destroyed."

"I'd prefer that you lived to tell that girl of yours about it," the captain said sternly. "But I have no doubt that whatever it takes, Jax, you will rise to the occasion. You've been a good wingman, and an even better pilot. Fly well, Red Leader."

Before Jax could say anything else, Captain Antilles kicked his X-Wing's faltering engines to life and soared off, trailing fire. The onrushing wing of TIE Fighters, which quickly honed in on the damaged, defenseless craft. Jax wheeled his own starfighter around and tore off after him. "Captain, wait …"

The leading TIE Fighters unleashed their barrage, aiming directly for the X-Wing's flaming engines. Somehow, Red Leader avoided the lasers and maneuvered his starfighter directly into the path of the foremost TIE. The two ships collided, vanishing in a much larger fireball than such small craft should have been capable of producing. The other leading enemy starfighters, unprepared for such a vigorous blast, were caught in the explosion and vanished as well.

Jax, his mind barely functioning through a haze of overwhelming grief and shock, subconsciously realized what had happened: his captain had disarmed his craft's coolant lines just prior to impact, turning his dying ship into an unwieldy missile that could strike out at his foes one last time – and increase Jax's own chances of survival.

If the surviving TIEs appeared disoriented at the sudden loss of their own commander, they did not remain that way for long. All eight of them banked sharply and came straight at Jax, who did the only reasonable thing that a lone pilot in such a battered starfighter could do – he turned and fled, racing back towards the heart of the battle.

Gunning his sputtering engines for all they were worth, Jax bent low over his controls, willing his X-Wing to pick up speed as green laser blasts shot by mere meters overhead. A large part of him felt sick to his stomach at what he was doing; he wanted nothing more than to turn his craft around now and duel all the surviving TIE Fighters to avenge his captain's death. The only thing that kept him willfully and eagerly pursuing such a vindictive and ultimately suicidal course of action was the realization that if he did so, he would be failing the very man he was trying to avenge. Captain Antilles did not want retribution; he wanted victory ... victory and a chance at redemption. He had given Jax a mission to fulfill, and if he died before that mission was complete, then the battle, Alderaan, and arguably the entire war would be lost.

* * *

_The world around them was collapsing. The fires of Mustafar were rising up around them on all sides, emerging from the heart of the darkness to consume them all. The galaxy, the Force … all of existence balanced dangerously on the edge of an unknown precipice, a void promised nothing but the searing and eternal loss of connection to anything that could sustain the essence of life itself. The two brothers, who had long ago been torn apart by fate, were now reaching for one another again, grasping desperately at the only lifeline that could save them from the immortal abyss._

_Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen Son of the Force, extended his hand through the curtain of smoke. His anguished face marred with blood, ash, and the stinging wetness of unshed tears, he reached for the shadow who hung precariously below him at the edge of the void, just beyond his reach. "Obi-Wan, grab my hand!"_

_Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who had become Darth Vader, gazed up at him through the fiery haze. The searing rage which had driven him to massacre thousands in the name of justice was gone from his eyes, which now shown with a clear, piercing blue light. _

"_Anakin …" he gasped._

_Anakin strained even further, risking his own descent into the yawning maw of the void itself to pull his master back. "Grab it, before you fall!"_

_Despite the crushing power of the void which pulled furiously at him, determined to claim him for its own, Obi-Wan somehow managed to rise, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, until he could grab Anakin's outstretched hand. The Chosen One latched on with an iron grip, binding himself to his brother's fate. "Stay still! I'll pull you up!"_

_Obi-Wan, his body and soul ravaged by a terrible unseen fury, struggled to maintain his untenable position, at the same time witnessing how close the other had drifted to the edge as well. "Anakin …"_

_Anakin ignored him, completely disregarding the mortal peril in which they were now joined to keep his focus on their ever-narrowing path to freedom. "I've got you!"_

_Despite his assurance, his tenuous hold on their only remaining lifeline began to slip, sliding towards a sudden and inescapable end. The void darkened, pulsing with a cold and malevolent eagerness as it waited to claim its prey. Obi-Wan stared down into its heart, and in one definitive moment he seemed to snatch some revelation from its infinite depths. As he looked up at Anakin, a wave of powerful certainty seemed to sweep over him, an invisible force which gently carried away all traces of doubt and fear. A smile rose to his lips, and he spoke quietly above the roar, his voice calm, authoritative, and full of understanding._

"_Anakin …go …"_

_Anakin knew what was about to happen, but he refused to accept it. His heart was unwilling to let go, even if it meant shattering the fragile Balance which he had sought to find for his entire life, and which he had only just now managed to bring into being. They were so close … so close to achieving the perfect vision of their destiny, and as he fixated on forcing his way down the agonizingly short distance remaining between them and the blinding light on their long, bitter path to redemption, he resolutely overlooked the incontrovertible truth that one could never take truly take the final step … unless they were willing to offer the ultimate sacrifice._

"_Just a little bit further …"_

_Even as he spoke, however, the last bond began to loosen. Obi-Wan was slipping away, relaxing his grip and willingly allowing himself to merge with the void. After all that had happened, after enduring and surviving indescribable torments for so long, he was choosing in this moment to let go …_

_Anakin scrambled desperately to maintain his hold, but the more he tried, the more Obi-Wan slid away from him. Even as he cried out his plea, his vision obscured in a haze of desperation, he saw a light gather around his former master, glowing like a star from within, and was immediately enveloped by the turbulent yet harmonious currents of compassion, trust, and acceptance that emanated from the redeemed Jedi Knight through the Force. It was too much for Anakin to take, and under the relentless deluge the last traces of their mortal connection fell away._

_The smile still on his face, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and offered himself up completely. The void claimed his body, but the light which shown around him did not vanish. It grew to blinding levels, lancing through the emptiness of the void and burning it away. A wave of pure power crashed over Anakin, carrying him up and away from the expanding supernova and into the harsh darkness which had overrun the galaxy …_

Just in time to see the last gleam of light depart from behind his former master's eyes as his head rolled back and his body went limp, collapsing gracefully towards the floor.

Anakin moved instinctively, his mind still resolutely detached from his reality. He sprang forward, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders and guiding him easily to the ground at the base of the destroyed dais. The descent seemed to take a lifetime, but it lasted less than a second, coming to a definitive end when his own knee came into contact with the uncompromising barrier and he gently lay Obi-Wan down before him. The clattering of the titanium alloy of his master's life-support suit against the cold sheet of metal beneath him stopped all too suddenly, leaving the air in frozen silence.

The silence was broken by a desperate cry that echoed hauntingly among the empty steel rafters of the Imperial Throne Room, reverberating back to shake the hearts of all upon whose ears it fell. The cry carried with it the numbing fear, the savage pain, and the acute shock of one who had just seen their very world shattered before them; their dreams stolen, their beliefs dismissed, their love lost.

The anguished sound chilled his already-faltering heart, but Anakin barely heard it. He was utterly fixated on the still, blood-stained, yet peaceful face of the man who had been closer to him than a brother, dearer to him than a father, and more cherished than any friend he had ever known. Even as he stared numbly at the scarred countenance that was so familiar and yet so alien to him, he noticed unconsciously that blood had ceased to flow freely from the many grievous wounds that Obi-Wan had suffered at his hands. Closed eyelids veiled the once-piercing orbs in which he had sought approval or comfort, and the lips which had once imparted countless words of wisdom, advice, or good-natured jests were now rigidly sealed, an impenetrable barrier that would not yield so much as a single breath. With deliberate slowness, Anakin reached out and gently took his master's one remaining wrist with a trembling hand, applying firm but gentle pressure to the veins that rested just beneath the layers of armor and skin. Nothing. There was no pulse. No heartbeat. No echoing signal of life. All that remained was a lingering emptiness and a brief, unnatural coldness, analogous to the icy breeze which steals over those left standing in a room when one of their number leaves them forever to venture out into the great unknown.

Anakin's thoughts began to reengage with his physical being, bringing with them clarity but also terrible conviction in the form of awareness of the one indicator of his own mortality. The steady beating of his own life resonated through him, drumming out a constant, agonizingly empty rhythm which rattled his heart relentlessly against the walls of the bony cage in which it was sealed.

_No … No … No …_

It couldn't be … and yet it was. The irresolvable paradox mocked him, twisted him, beat him ruthlessly into silent submission. He did not know where to turn, what to think, or what to do. The great Balance which he had reached only minutes before was now invisible to him, hidden behind an obscure veil which was neither malicious nor unnatural but irreconcilably present, a constant specter which hung dispassionately over all life until the preordained moment came for it to descend.

As Anakin's senses returned to him, he suddenly became aware that he was not alone. In the corners of his vision, he could see others standing nearby, their faces beset with the dark cloud of distress. He saw a short, hunched being with green skin leaning heavily against the wall, his eyes closed and his wizened, wrinkled face a mask of sad acceptance. He saw a tall man and a beautiful young woman struggling to restrain another woman who was straining furiously to reach them, her eyes drenched with tears. He heard voices as well, a cacophony of despairing shouts and bitter pleas which made little sense to him, yet struck him somehow as profoundly significant.

"Let me go! I've got to go to him, he needs me! _Let me go_!"

"Sabé, calm down!"

"Sabé, please … there's nothing you can do!"

The woman, Sabé, made another furious lunge forward. By some titanic effort or by the concession of her captors, she broke free and raced towards the dais, nearly slamming into Anakin as she fell to her knees beside the body and seized it by the shoulders, shaking it urgently. "No! Obi-Wan, please! Don't do this, don't leave me …"

Obi-Wan did not respond, his pale, scarred face remaining frozen in perfect repose. Disregarding the tears that were streaming freely down her cheeks, Sabé leaned in and pressed her lips fervently to his. She held herself there for several long moments, then pulled back and began pumping Obi-Wan's chest furiously with her hands, ignoring the still-wet blood that ran from his armor onto her smooth skin.

Anakin slowly pushed himself to his feet and took two steps away from the body of his former master and the desperate, sobbing woman who was leaning over him, trying to summon from deep within the torn and battered form some last remaining spark of life. His piercing blue eyes did not shift from Obi-Wan's face, nor did the blank intensity of his gaze falter. Aside from the deliberate rise and fall of his chest, he was utterly rigid. He seemed to have been turned to statue, frozen in a posture of eternal suffering for a thousand years.

Without warning, something warm slipped around the Chosen One's torso, unconsciously prompting his muscles to relax. Anakin turned his neck the smallest fraction to look down and saw his wife, Padmé, who had moved away from her friend and was now standing beside him, holding him tightly in her embrace. His eyes softened by the slightest degree and his left hand brushed gently over hers. Then, without a word, he raised his head again and resumed gazing at his former master's face as though he were set in ice.

Sabé's sobs were becoming more painful now, and her voice was fading as she struggled to draw breath. Obi-Wan's face was wet with the tears of his former lover, which mixed easily with the blood, washing it away. Once again, Sabé pressed her warm lips to his cold ones, seeking to impart the breath of renewed life through their tenuous, fading bond. She did it with such tender passion and obvious care that one could not help but hope for a moment that her actions might bring about a miracle. But Obi-Wan did not stir, and his eternally peaceful expression hid everything but the bitter truth.

Padmé, her own eyes streaming with tears, turned her face up to look at her husband. To her surprise, she saw that no tears were falling from his eyes. His grimly set face was completely unreadable. However, it was an expression of such absolute finality that even Padmé, for whom hope had long shone brighter than any star in the galaxy, could find no cause to sustain it any longer. A bitter spear pierced her heart, and she buried her face in Anakin's shirt, stifling the onset of a fresh wave of despair.

The sound of a distant explosion and heavy blasterfire brought the rest of the world back into focus. There was still a battle going on, one that could very well change the course of millions of lives. They would need to leave soon. They could not stay here, hopelessly grieving, for much longer, not with so much at stake …

Mace Windu, his own face torn between bitter shock at what had happened and agonizing acceptance what needed to be done now, looked over at Anakin, only to behold the same frozen countenance that had stripped Padmé of all uncertainty. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at Yoda, who opened his dark green eyes and resolutely met his younger colleague's inquiring stare. The two Jedi Masters shared a moment of silent communication through the Force, then Mace stepped forward, kneeling down beside Obi-Wan and Sabé and laying a steady hand on the woman's violently trembling shoulder.

"Sabé," he said gently, his voice laden with more tenderness and understanding than anyone had ever heard him use. "I know how you feel. I know that you're in pain right now, probably the worst pain that you've ever felt in your life. But you have to be strong. Obi-Wan wouldn't want you to be like this …"

"How do you know?" Sabé burst out, tearing her swollen, red-rimmed eyes away from Obi-Wan's impassive face to glare at Mace. "How can you know anything? You want me to believe that Obi-Wan's survived everything from droids to being burned alive just so he can go out like this? That I waited all those years for him just so I could lose him now? No, I won't believe it! Life isn't that cruel …"

"I don't believe that either," Mace told her bracingly. "But if we want to honor all that he lived for, and all that he sacrificed himself to protect, then we need to accept the truth."

"I don't believe it!" Sabé cried out again. "I won't accept it! There's still hope …"

"There will be time to grieve, Sabé," Mace said firmly. "But not now – not here. We're in the Emperor's Throne Room, and at any minute we could find ourselves in the middle of another battle. There's nothing more you can do, Sabé. He's …"

"Don't say it!" Sabé exclaimed desperately, falling back as if to shield Obi-Wan from the Jedi Master's impending words. "Please don't say it! I don't want …"

"Sabé," Mace said softly, his steady voice cracking ever so slightly with the weight of unseen emotion. "He's gone."

* * *

A direct strike caused Jax's X-Wing to shudder and its newly reinvigorated shields to drop precipitously. Jax grit his teeth and coaxed even more speed out of his craft. He had been narrowly evading death for several minutes, but the battle was close now. If he could get there before his shields gave out, then he should be able to slip through several lines of heavy fire and so lose his pursuers. Then, his only remaining challenges would be to rally as many of his surviving allies as he could, mount an attack on an outwardly invincible space station the size of a small moon, and score a direct hit on its narrow thermal exhaust port before it could get into position to destroy an entire planet. He tried not to think about the fact that he would have to make the attack while traveling at full speed down a thin trench guarded by turbolaser batteries, avoiding attacks on his defenseless back from new swarms of enemy fighters determined to destroy him before he got there. Finally, if he some how succeeded in all that, he would have to somehow escape the enormous, all-consuming fireball that was sure to be the result of his handiwork.

_Hey, no one ever said this job would be easy._

They had reached the outskirts of the battle. As new lines of fire began to hone in on his craft, Jax was suddenly hit by a wave of unspeakable conviction. His task might be hard … hell, maybe it was impossible … but when it came down to it, things couldn't be much simpler. He knew what he had to do … all that was left summoning the courage to try. He felt a grim, yet reckless smile pull across his face.

"We've all got to die sometime - right, Arfour?"

His loyal astromech tooted mournfully in agreement. Jax gripped the controls with renewed determination. "Then let's not keep our trigger-happy friends back there waiting for theirs."

He spun around in as tight a turn as his X-Wing could afford to make then shot back through his surprised pursuers with all guns blazing. Three unshielded enemy craft fell victim to his lasers before they knew what was happening. Just as quickly, Jax turned again and shot off towards the thickest part of the battle, the now-depleted TIEs in pursuit.

A hailstorm of laserfire and explosions greeted Jax's reentrance into the pitched fray. The Alliance reinforcements, fresh but still outnumbered, were manning together and concentrating their fire, presumably recognizing that they stood no chance if they allowed their line to be spread too thin. The Imperials, though still intent upon destroying their resistance, were more focused on clearing a path through the cordon rather than their usual scatter-and-then-annihilate set of tactics. Meanwhile, the Death Star continued to plough on towards Alderaan like an enormous boulder rolling down a mountainside, promising nothing but absolute destruction when it reached the end of its journey. It could not be long now until it was in range, but still the planet seemed far too peaceful. Why, for the love of God, Jax thought, had whoever was in charge down there not begun the process of evacuating their citizens already? Did they not realize that if they didn't do something soon, they and everyone under their care were going to be space dust along with their pristine homeworld?

He could do nothing at the moment for the people on the surface, however. He had to survive this battle if were going to have any chance at averting the threat of certain destruction which was currently looming over the system. As he danced around his pursuers, he managed to destroy two more and critically damage a third with well-placed shots. But just before he could hone in a course which would scatter the survivors and leave him free to engage his primary objective, a unexpected assault struck him broadside and sent his craft spinning out of control.

Jax nearly blacked out again, but he managed to somehow hold onto his consciousness and quickly ran an assessment of his craft. He had sustained damage, particularly to his already shaky shields, but amazingly, he was still capable. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the display for the offender, wondering how the TIEs he had been pursuing had managed to sneak up on him. He soon, discovered, however, that his attackers were new arrivals - three TIEs with curved wings and red stripes painted down the sides. He recognized them immediately; it was the same group of fighters which had destroyed the frigate, critically damaging Red Leader and nearly killing him.

The TIEs – apparently believing that they had knocked him out of commission – were now pursuing a battered, saucer-shaped freighter that was trying to shake them with little success. The freighter, which barely looked space-worthy at all, had no identification markings and showed up in Jax's display as a neutral gray dot – unaffiliated with either the Alliance or the Empire. It had to be a civilian freighter which had made the unfortunate mistake of jumping into the middle of the battle and had subsequently been trapped by the Imperial interdictors.

Conflict briefly erupted in Jax's mind. He had been tasked with a mission that could potentially save billions of lives, and this wayward freighter was already as good as dead. He should cut his losses and take this opportunity to slip away while the TIEs were still engaged. The lead Imperial had already proven that he was a far superior pilot to Jax; like before, it made no sense to get into a suicidal dogfight on the enemy's terms.

But he had joined the Alliance to defend those like his family, who had not been able to defend themselves. His ethics would not allow him to leave an innocent non-combatant to die. Silently praying that he knew what he was doing, Jax brought the craft around and concentrated his full firepower on the lead craft.

The pilot threw his craft into a roll, easily evading Jax's salvo. His wingman, however, was not so lucky – his analogous maneuver brought him straight into the path of the X-Wing's lasers, and he had no choice but to eject before his craft was destroyed. Taking advantage of the reprieve, the freighter trained its guns on the remaining wingman and succeeded in vaporizing him as well. The leader, evidently recognizing the futility of taking on two larger and better-shielded ships at once without support, peeled off, heading towards a more favorable skirmish.

The freighter, evidently still in passable condition after its ordeal, leveled out and fell into position off Jax's wing. On a whim, Jax opened a channel. "This is Lieutenant Jax Bronson of Red Squadron. Identify yourself."

"… took you a while, but you finally hit something, didn't you?" a sarcastic voice filtered through the channel. "Maybe it was worth allowing you to tag along after all."

"Be damn grateful I _did_ hit something," another voice shot back. "Your fancy little maneuver back there almost got us all spaced."

"Hey, it would have worked if he hadn't anticipated me," the first voice exclaimed. "Like I said, I've kept us alive this long …"

"Hey, you in the flying box!" Jax said sharply, frustration and increasing urgency smothering his sense of humor. "Identify yourself!"

The bickering stopped immediately. "Watch what you're calling a flying box, buddy, or I'll blow that needle-shaped can of yours right out of the sky."

"Not after I just saved your life, you wouldn't," Jax retorted. "Now identify yourself … please."

"All right, if it'll get you to stop acting so high and mighty," the freighter's captain grumbled. "Han Solo, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_ and unwilling participant in this whole Hutt-spawned mess."

Jax frowned. Now that he was listening carefully, he was struck by just how young this Han sounded. He couldn't more than seventeen, younger than Jax had been when he had joined the Alliance. "Captain? Just how old are you, kid?"

"Who are you calling kid?" Solo demanded. "First, you knock my ship, and now this? I'm starting to think that I was better off with the TIEs. You know what, thank you for your help, but I think that we can take it from here. Oh by the way, that thing you're flying looks like it's about ready to go spinning off in about eight different directions, so make sure you don't sneeze too hard. You might blow yourself up."

The Millennium Falcon banked and began to head towards Alderaan. Unconsciously, Jax held his position beside them. "What, are you running?"

"What do you think we've been trying to do?" Solo shot back. "We've been trying to break through the blockade ever since we got here, but every time we get close, the Imperials swarm us and send us running back to the shootout. Apparently they just can't have the party without us. So we're going to slip through the Rebel line, 'cause we know _they_ won't shoot at us. Then we'll double back past the interdictors, go to lightspeed, and leave you and your hero types to your battle."

"You'll never make it," Jax warned him. "The Empire will trap you against the gravity well before you can slip through the net."

"Your confidence warms my heart," Solo said acidly. "Watch me; I'll take us into the atmosphere if I need to. The planet ain't going anywhere."

"Don't be so sure of that," Jax told him. "You see that big space station there? It's going to blow Alderaan to smithereens in about twenty minutes if we don't do something to stop it."

"Blow it to smithereens?" Solo echoed disbelievingly. "That's impossible. And even if it is, what were you going to do? Lead an attack?"

"Yes," Jax admitted, knowing how foolish it sounded. "The station has a weakness; a small thermal exhaust port leading to its main reactor. If we can hit it with a couple of missiles or torpedoes, it should start a reaction big enough to destroy the whole thing."

"Are you crazy?" Solo demanded. "You must be; no one in their right mind could think that something like that would work. And you're planning on doing this by yourself?"

"Well … I could use someone to cover my tail."

"Now I _know_ you're crazy," Solo muttered, sounding both appalled and impressed. "Not me - no way. Attacking that battle station ain't my idea of courage. It's more like … suicide."

Laser blasts shot by overhead; another wing of TIEs was headed in their direction. Recognizing that their window to escape was closing, Solo and the _Falcon_ began to break away again.

"Wait!" Jax didn't know why he was doing this; he should just let the freighter go. This young man was not a military officer or a member of the Rebellion – Jax had no business asking him to risk his life on such a dangerous mission. But his instincts – not to mention the high likelihood that the rest of his squadron was dead or incapacitated – compelled him not to let this chance get away. "There are over a billion people on Alderaan who will die if the Death Star gets the chance to fire. You can't just leave them to their fate – not when you can help to prevent it."

There was silence for a moment on the other end of the channel. Then Solo spoke again. "I'm sorry for them, but they're not my responsibility. I have to look out for myself."

"_You have to look out for yourself_," Jax echoed bitterly. "You know, I could have said that when I saw you dancing around with those TIEs on your tail, but I decided to step in and jeopardize my own well-being to save you. I might go so far as to say you owe me one."

A strange roar came over the channel, followed by an inquiring bark. Jax didn't recognize it as speech, but Solo must have because he responded heatedly.

"No, Chewie, I don't owe him a life debt - that's a Wookiee thing! And just 'cause the Empire threw me out of the Academy for saving you doesn't mean that I have to risk my neck to bring them down!"

"Listen, Solo," Jax said. "I can't force you to do something that might get you killed. But I can promise you that if you leave without fighting, you will regret it later, and you'll wish you'd done what you could to fight for all the people who died here today. Call it fate or call it luck that brought you here, but you can help us."

Another brief silence that seemed to last much longer. "Who did you say you were again?" the young pilot asked finally.

Jax grit his teeth again. "Lieutenant Jax Bronson, Red Squadron, formerly of Corellia."

"Corellian, too, eh?" Solo said evenly. "Well, _Lieutenant_, since you …"

The TIEs which had been approaching bore down upon them, all guns bared. Instinctively, the two young pilots dove together in unison, avoiding the hail of destruction. As they pulled back up and quickly locked in on their pursuers, Solo continued as though nothing had happened.

"Since you've managed to keep us around here long enough for the Empire to cut off our only escape route, I guess the least I can do is make sure that you survive long enough to prove you're a better pilot than you've showed so far. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough, _Captain_," Jax said, having to work to suppress a grin despite himself. "On my wing, then."

"Just because I'm sticking around doesn't mean I'm joining your Alliance, Bronson," Solo shot back. "I'll keep you alive, but I'm going to do it _my_ way."

Jax rolled his eyes and gunned the throttle, racing away towards the massive Death Star with the _Falcon_ and the TIEs in pursuit. Hardly an ideal wingman and hardly ideal circumstances to be doing something as implausibly reckless as he was about to attempt; however, there was nothing he could do but fly. If he was good enough … and lucky enough, too … this whole crazy idea just might work.

* * *

Han shut off the receiver and settled in at the controls, his heart pounding with adrenaline. "Looks like we're going back in. Chewie, dial down the inertial compensators again, and Lando, keep an eye on this hotshot lunatic's tail, will you?"

"Han …" Lando asked hesitantly over the intercom. "Do you have _any_ idea what you're getting us into?"

Han looked over at Chewbacca, who shrugged. The truth was, he didn't know what had come over him. He had only survived seventeen years in this galaxy by putting himself first and foremost, and to go back on that, especially now, was a recipe for certain disaster. But there had been moments, such as when he had saved Chewbacca from the Imperial slave drivers and the exchange only thirty seconds ago, when he had found himself moved by some indescribable force deep in his gut that had caused him to set aside his rationality for survival and do 'the right thing'. He wished he could ignore such an urge or, better yet, get rid of it entirely. But now, thanks to his restless, so-called conscience, he was about to do the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life.

"No, Lando" he said honestly. "I have no idea what I've just gotten us into."

Lando's groan was easily audible, even over the static-filled channel.

"That's what I was afraid of."

* * *

It was all over. The moment, the revelation which everyone had been dreading had happened, and now it could not be undone. There was no going back. There was nothing more to do, nothing more to say, and most importantly, nothing more to deny. Two words, spoken by one man, had gently yet definitively shattered the hearts and the illusions of four people forever.

_He's gone._

"NO!"

Sabé flung her entire body across Obi-Wan's still form, shielding him from Jedi Master Mace Windu as though she were afraid that the one who had stolen away her last remaining hope might also try to spirit her lover's cold, lifeless body away from her into the endless currents of the Force. She wrapped her arms tightly around his bloodstained torso, clinging to it with what appeared to be every remaining scrap of strength that she possessed. "No! I won't let go! I won't leave him! He doesn't know that I still love him! He doesn't even know that he has a son!"

The stricken woman was so overcome by the cruel blow she had been dealt that she was oblivious to everyone around her. Nevertheless, her grief exerted a tangible pull on them all. The desperation and forlornness exuded in her cries reflected Anakin's own sense of relentless pounding despair, which echoed in his mind as a bitter mockery of her words.

_No … No … No …_

The steady beat continued, rocking Anakin to his very core. Each resounding denial, however, did nothing but reaffirm with awful certainty that which he already knew, that which no power in the galaxy, even one as great as the Force, could change. Out of the depths of his core, he felt a spark of righteous anger at the bitter injustice and cruel irony of the dream in which he was living, a dream which had just become an unforgiving reality.

_Why him? Why him and not me?_

He was as guilty as Obi-Wan was of falling prey to the ravaging fires of the dark side. He had committed many of the same sins … some of them in an even colder and more heartless fashion than the other. What inextricable fold of destiny had fallen so that it was his friend's heart which had at long last been torn free of the chains binding it in darkness while his was still cruelly bound to the world of love and loss? How he longed to burst out of the tomb of flesh and blood in which he was so cruelly concealed and soar off to follow his brother towards the great light at the distant horizon!

_There is no death, there is the Force._

It was one of Master Yoda's oldest teachings., and central to the Jedi Code. It was also a lesson which he had never fully understood. Anakin looked over at the ancient Jedi Master, who was standing a short distance away from Obi-Wan's body, his head bowed. The Chosen One had never seen him look so old, so tired, so … defeated. Was he simply overwhelmed by the remarkable shift that had just cascaded through the Force? Or was he dealing with the repercussions of some truth which he had never shared with Anakin? Could it be that there was no life after death - only emptiness?

Throughout his time as a Jedi, Obi-Wan had been bound by his honor, but he had lived the final years of his life in the service of a lie. He had died to reassert his commitment to the truth, and in his own way, he had saved them all. Anakin refused to believe that his beloved master's final, monumental sacrifice could have yielded nothing more than a seamless passage into oblivion.

If that was the cost of ultimate victory, then Anakin was not sure that he would be able to claim it. He had never even gotten to tell his best friend goodbye.

As he stood there, still overcome with the sheer magnitude and acute pain of his sudden, irreplaceable loss, Anakin realized that there was simply nothing more he could do. He could mourn, he could release his anger, he could demand answers from the Force, but in the end, he would have to move on. He had made his peace with death, and now Anakin would need to make his peace with life.

Anakin closed his eyes, unwilling and unable to look upon his former master's face any longer. Instead, he withdrew into his mind and allowed the Force to coalesce around him. It came easily to him, like an old familiar friend upon whose shoulder he could rest his head. He reached out through the powerful currents, tracing the contours of his brother's face with invisible fingers, willing there to have been some change. But there was nothing … absolutely nothing left to give him cause for hope. With a wavering heart he reached even deeper into the Force to face source of his greatest regret …

He froze.

Anakin's eyes snapped open and he was immediately plunged back into the harsh fabric of reality, conscious once more of Padmé's warm touch, Sabé's increasingly feeble sobs and the chaotic uproar of a distant battle. He paid them no attention. He fixed his hesitant gaze upon Obi-Wan's ice-like visage, his heart beating faster than ever before in his life. Could it be?

It had been faint, certainly. It had been weak. It had been so fleeting that one could easily dismiss it as the phantom of a desperate imagination. But for one fractional heartbeat in the life of the Force, Anakin had felt it. As he had traced with the torn and twisted edges of the pathway that had once joined his consciousness to Obi-Wan's, he had felt that long-lost connection flare up and reach out to him, bridging the vast divide between two worlds. In that instantaneous moment, their legendary bond had been reestablished, and Anakin had felt a wave of warmth and compassion flood into him, setting every nerve on his body on fire.

A nanosecond later, it had vanished, leaving the broken divide as cold and empty as before. But Anakin knew with absolutely unshakeable conviction that he had not imagined it. Even now, his veins were buzzing with the same strange energy and his heart was filling up with the warmth of a presence that was as familiar to him as his own. It did not feel so much like a rekindling as a reemergence, yet Anakin knew that he had never sensed anything like this before. A sense of immense wonder filled his mind as he realized in one all-consuming that that presence had always been there. He had simply been too blind, too filled with anger and doubt to accept it.

Anakin closed his eyes, willing his heart slow its frantic beating. It was only the faintest chance, and if he was misinterpreting the situation in any way, then all his efforts would be wasted. But if he was right … then he might be able to bridge the divide for a moment, and a moment was all he needed.

Anakin opened his eyes. Gently, he reached down and disengaged himself from his wife's arms, stepping forward towards the body on the floor before him. A brief look of surprise crossed Padmé's features, but one glance at her husband's face revealed an expression that was so poised, so assured that all her doubts and questions were silenced. Willingly, she let him slip away.

Mace, noting the younger man's sudden change in behavior, rose up from his kneeling position beside Sabé and placed himself in his path. "Anakin, what are you doing?"

Anakin's eyes sparked, but he did not move to brush the Jedi Master aside. He met Mace's gaze evenly and spoke with calm authority.

"I think I know how to save him."

Something flickered in Mace's eyes, a spark of hope which was quickly assuaged by bitter sympathy. "Anakin …" he said gently. "You are the Chosen One. I have seen you come into your own with my own eyes and fulfill the destiny that many believed was beyond your reach. If there was anything that could be done … anything … I would beg you to do it. But our power, for all its immensity, is bound to the essence of life. Nothing can recall from death those who have become one with the Force."

"I know," Anakin said quietly. "But I am not going to try. Please … trust me."

Mace, taken aback by the steadiness in the young man's voice, looked directly into Anakin's eyes, eyes which for eighteen years had been beset with a silent, unspeakable torment that everyone who had known him had been powerless to alleviate or understand. Now, behind those same eyes, there was no hint of uncertainty or fear. They shone brilliantly with a ghost of the same light which had poured forth when he had confronted the Emperor and at last achieved the true Balance. The Force radiated around its chosen like the rays of a burning star, and Mace was immediately seized with a sense of profound awe. Something had happened, something that he could not understand … but only accept.

Without any word, the great Jedi Master stood aside, giving Anakin his silent assent to proceed. Anakin moved forward and gently touched Sabé on the shoulder. The young woman turned her tear-stained face up to meet Anakin's gaze and found herself captivated by the remarkable aura of power and assurance that the Chosen One was projecting. Anakin made a small gesture with his head and with only the slightest hesitation Sabé released her death-like grip on Obi-Wan's body, stood up, and backed away to stand next to Padmé. Her old friend enfolded her in an embrace and the two of them silently watched as Anakin knelt down beside the body of his oldest and dearest friend.

_Trust the Force … trust yourself …_

Anakin reached out with his left hand and tentatively wrapped his fingers around the palm of Obi-Wan's one remaining hand. With equal deliberation, he leaned forward a few degrees and placed his right hand across his master's scarred forehead, spanning his brow with his thumb and forefinger as he had done with the Emperor when he had stripped him of the Force. The coldness of his metal fingers matched the coldness of Obi-Wan's skin, but Anakin did not allow himself to be daunted by the icy absence of life. Instead, he closed his eyes and began to immerse himself once again in the peerless ocean of life and memory which inundated the very essence of his being.

Once more the Force came easily to him, cascading through body and soul in a torrent of raw power. Yet its chaotic fury was stilled by his calm and balanced state and, recognizing kinship, it fell into harmony with his will. As he merged fully with the essence of life, Anakin began to focus his perceptions not outward but inward, honing in on the flickering connection that had once been his bond to Obi-Wan. His heart rate slowed to the point where he was not even sure that it beating, but his body was so infused with the power of the Force that it did not matter. Nothing mattered anyone, save for the dimly burning spark that Anakin knew hung suspended in the void separating him from his master.

Anakin allowed the memories that had pulled him back from the brink of darkness to flood him once more. Obi-Wan's face shone like a beacon in his mind as he extended his reach across the inner divide, hoping, believing …

Amidst of the cold, crushing emptiness he suddenly sensed warmth. Drawing his attention to the heart of the void, he beheld a faintly burning candle, its flame flickering in response to his call. The Sith'ari drew in closer, and as he did so the blackness around him began to break apart, pierced by growing pinpoints of radiance which slowly reached a blinding intensity, driving the entire spectrum of existence away …

A moment later, the lights coalesced, forming distinctive shapes amidst a soft iridescent haze. Anakin, disoriented, but by now well accustomed to visiting such alternate plains of reality, blinked several times to acclimate himself to his new surroundings. As they came into focus, he had to stifle a gasp, for what he saw took his breath away.

He was standing in what was unmistakably the Jedi Council Chamber, nearly every feature of the room identical to the esteemed gathering place on the highest spire of the now-destroyed Temple on Coruscant. The only difference was that the twelve chairs in which the Masters had typically sat were gone, leaving the room bare but somehow more forgiving. Soft orange light streamed in through the windows, flooding the room with its gentle radiance. It reminded Anakin of a sunset, and he recalled the many times he had stood alone on a balcony overlooking the Coruscant skyline and watched the distant fiery orb disappear beyond the shimmering buildings on the horizon. He took a hesitant step forward, marveling silently at his incredible surroundings, which seemed to have sprang right out of a dream …

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Anakin spun around, his heart leaping into his throat as he faced the source of the voice. Standing a few paces away from him was a man, clad in the humble, non-descript robes of a Jedi. He smiled as Anakin's gaze landed upon him, a familiar and treasured expression which Anakin had not seen for many years, but had never forgotten.

"Obi-Wan …"

Obi-Wan's smile widened, and Anakin remained stock-still, taking in every detail of his long-lost brother's appearance. He did not seem to have aged so much as a day since the last time Anakin had seen him on the landing platform eight years ago. He stood tall and proud, unafflicted by any of the horrific injuries that he had suffered at his former apprentice's hands. No scars or burns marred his face, and his limbs were flesh and blood rather than crude cyborg replacements. His long, auburn hair hung loosely around his head, moving slightly as if caught in an invisible wind. His sharp, kind blue eyes shone with pure happiness and the renewed exhilaration of freedom.

"It's been a long time, Anakin," he said warmly. "Then again, in reality, it's only been a moment. What sort of greeting is appropriate for a situation as complex as this one is, I'm afraid I'm not sure."

Anakin was torn. Part of him wanted to run forward, crush his former master in an embrace and never let go. However, he found himself paralyzed, unable to move a muscle. Stricken as he was, he managed to find his voice. "Where … where are we?"

Obi-Wan's smile faded, and his expression became thoughtful. "You know, Anakin, I was hoping that you might be able to tell me that. You see, I had originally believed that this was some sort of gateway where I was to await my full passage into the Force. But if you're here, then clearly it's something else, perhaps a temporary bridge between the realms of the living and the dead." His eyes narrowed almost admonishingly. "Unless, of course, you've managed to go and get yourself killed in the short time I've been gone."

Anakin felt a reflexive smile cross his face at the unexpected display of his master's familiar sardonic humor. It quickly faded, however, when he grasped the implication of Obi-Wan's words. "So you're … you're dead, then?"

Obi-Wan smiled sadly, looking upon his former apprentice with compassion.

"Yes, Anakin, I'm afraid so."

"No," Anakin said forcefully. "No, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here. If you were, I shouldn't have been able to sense you through our bond."

Obi-Wan raised his shoulders slightly. "I don't know why you were able to sense me, Anakin. I don't have any answers. All is know is the decision that I made, and the consequences of that course of action."

Anakin's eyes narrowed painfully, his voice becoming almost accusatory.

"Why did you do it?"

Obi-Wan sighed softly. "I did what was necessary."

The echo of Vader's words jarred Anakin's thoughts, and he leaned back a few degrees, staring hard at his former master's open and contrite face. "So you decided that in order to escape the darkness, you had to sacrifice yourself?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Anakin. It was the only way. You showed me that."

"I showed you that?" Anakin exclaimed incredulously. "What do you mean _I_ showed you that? When?"

"When you were trying to persuade Palpatine to confess his crimes," Obi-Wan said quietly. "You said that the first step on the path to redemption was to turn inward and find the will to confront my past. I had to come to terms with what I had done and what I needed to do, and then I needed to accept whatever sacrifice the Force required of me. You might not have been speaking directly to me, Anakin, but I heard you. Your words helped me to finally understand what I needed to do to free myself and all of you from the terrible legacy that I had created, and the strength to do it."

Anakin was momentarily stunned. During his confrontation with the Emperor, he had been so thoroughly focused on his enemy that he had forgotten that he had been sending strength to his gravely injured master through the Force. Somehow Obi-Wan, hovering on the verge of death, had not only managed to seize upon Anakin's message, but also channel that strength to throw off the lingering specter of Darth Vader … at least temporarily. Vader, as Anakin remember with acute clarity, had come roaring back with a vengeance, ravaging Obi-Wan's mind and body so thoroughly that the Jedi had nearly been overcome again … until he had decided to let go, carrying the Dark Lord of the Sith with him into the eternal abyss.

"But you're still here," Anakin asked haltingly, unwillingly looking hard into his dear friend's eyes to see if any trace of the terrible, vengeful darkness remained. "You're here, and he's gone … gone into the void?"

"I think so, Anakin," Obi-Wan said steadily. "I cannot be sure, for his soul and mine were so tightly bound together that I don't know if I will ever truly be free from his influence. All I know is that here, in this place, that part of my mind which was overrun by his thoughts for the first time in many years is finally silent."

Relief flooded Anakin's mind, and an enormous smile broke across his face. There was always doubt, he knew, and there was always danger. He was well aware that despite finally expelling Vader from his own heart, he would have to take great care to ensure that the vengeful darkness never broke out to disrupt the Balance again. But that was no reason not to try to move on, to heal what scars had been left behind. He had earned that chance, and so had Obi-Wan.

"Then you're free," he said confidently. "You're free to come back to us! Free to start over and live again!"

He stepped forward, extending reaching out to take his brother's hand. Just before he touched it, however, he felt an invisible barrier spring up between them. Obi-Wan had stepped back, a heavy expression on his face.

"I can't."

Anakin halted, his proffered hand still hanging in midair and his face masked with confusion and disappointment. "What are you talking about? What do you mean you _can't_?"

Obi-Wan smiled sadly, and though they were standing only about two meters apart, Anakin was suddenly conscious of just how much distance there was between them, a divide of years and memories that could not truly be breached.

"The conditions of my freedom are limited, Anakin," he said softly. "I do not know why I am still here and have not yet merged with the Force, but whatever the reason, I cannot try to defy fate or change my destiny. It was the will of the Force that it should be this way. I must atone for my mistakes before I can move on."

"That's nonsense," Anakin said fervently. "You don't have anything to atone for. You're not Vader."

"Even if Vader is gone," Obi-Wan said slowly, "I cannot my own accountability for the terrible actions that he committed, or the responsibility that I bear for the suffering which he caused. The fact remains, Anakin, that for all the so-called divisions between us, the two of us were one man. We shared the same body, the same thoughts, and the same life. It was through my weakness that he rose up to carry out the massacre of the Jedi Temple and unleash war upon the galaxy in the name of justice. The blood of the millions who died in service of a false truth is on my hands every bit as much as his. Only here are we separate. If I were to defy the will of the Force and withdraw from my sacrifice, then I would not come back alone. I would bring with me the terrible legacy of my past, a legacy which would be enough to destroy the entire galaxy along with all those who I gave myself up to save … including you."

Slowly, Anakin allowed his hand to fall to his side. His eyes narrowed, and his face darkened with a rising pall of anger.

"So it's not that you _can't_ come back," he said bitterly, his eyes hardening into diamond chips as he scrutinized his former master's face. "It's that you _won't_."

"Fine distinctions, Anakin," Obi-Wan said tensely, his own face stiffening with righteous anger. "But perhaps you're right. I can't come back because I _won't_ subject risk more innocent people suffering at my hands. I can't come back because I _won't_ impose my existence upon all those who I claimed to love, then cast into the fire to serve as fuel for my endless quest for vengeance. I can't come back because if I do, the galaxy will pay the price for my selfish arrogance with many more years of tears and blood. Can't you see, Anakin? This is the Force's way of allowing you, Sabé, Padmé, your children and everyone else to move on with the life you deserve … a life without fear, regret, and unnecessary suffering. A life without _me_."

Anakin stared incredulously at Obi-Wan, barely recognizing the face which he had known for nearly twenty years. He could never have imagined that those words would ever come out of his former master's mouth, let alone that he would say them with determined passion and utter conviction. Obi-Wan actually believed what he was saying. He believed that Anakin, the boy to whom he had been both a mentor and a father figure, could hate him so much that he would be happier if he were dead and gone from his life forever.

"How can you think that, Obi-Wan?" he demanded softly, barely managed to force the words out through his tightly constricted throat. "How can you … the wisest person I know … believe something that foolish?"

"I have been a fool about many, many things, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him. "But not this. I have witnessed, with my own eyes, how you have gone from a powerful but tormented young man, terrified of loss and crushed by the expectations of his destiny, to a strong, confident, poised individual with enough control and wisdom to not only tap into but exceed your unbelievable potential. You have remade yourself not under my tutelage, but by following your own path while I willfully and eagerly fell victim to the very same dark delusions that I warned you against so many times. I did what I could to try and help you, but it was not until you were free from my guidance that you were able to shatter all the barriers before you … and look where you are now."

His piercing eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked upon his friend and smiled. "You did it, Anakin. You defeated both Vader and the Emperor. You brought peace to the galaxy. You fulfilled the Prophecy and brought balance to the Force. I'm so proud of you."

Anakin felt tears beginning to sting his own eyes, and he had to work hard to hold them back. To hear that vindication … that Obi-Wan was proud of him … was one of the greatest experiences he could ever have wanted. But now, in this moment, it paled in comparison to the emotion which was welling up in his heart at the prospect of losing his brother forever.

"Obi-Wan …" he said slowly, his voice cracking with the weight of his words. "I could _never_ have fulfilled the Prophecy without you. You've been my father, my brother, and the greatest friend that I could ever have. You've stood with me through every trial, every battle, even when the road ahead was so dark that I thought I was blind. It was your teachings and your guidance that allowed me to resist Palpatine's manipulations. When I was ready to throw everything away and embrace my darkest rage, your voice helped to pull me back. If it hadn't been for you, I never would have even gotten to the point where I could bring balance to the Force. I would have either fallen or been killed long ago.

"You're a part of me, Obi-Wan, just like I'm a part of you. You're still here because even when I couldn't sense you, even when I believed you were lost, you were living on through me. That's how I've been holding on all these years … and that's why I won't let go now."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, staring at Anakin with awe. He appeared both moved and taken aback at the strength with his former apprentice had delivered his speech. When he finally found his voice, however, it still carried a powerful hint of self-abasement.

"Anakin, I … I am deeply touched by your loyalty. But whatever value I had to is long since elapsed. You cannot sacrifice the future in order to cling to the past. My time is over. It's your turn now … and you will be better served without me."

"You're wrong, Obi-Wan," Anakin said quietly. "You still have so much to offer, not just to me, but to the many others who love you and need you. Think of what their lives will be like without you. Sabé …"

Pain flooded Obi-Wan's eyes and he turned away, breaking eye contact with Anakin and staring out over the shimmering orange skyline. When he spoke, his voice was laden with unbearable guilt.

"Sabé … Sabé will be far better off without me. She is a strong, proud, and resilient woman, and in the past few years she has truly come into her own. I have no doubt that she has a long, full life ahead of her … and I would be a detriment to that."

"Obi-Wan, she's been in love with you for nearly twenty years," Anakin said sharply. "She was the one who kept the faith, even when all of the rest of us believed that you were gone forever. How can you say that she'll be better off without you?"

"I hurt her, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly, tearing his gaze away from the looming horizon and back towards his former apprentice. "I have hurt her more than any living being should ever hurt another. I cast her aside, I scorned her, I tormented her with my very existence. I cannot forgive myself for what I did to her, and I certainly do not believe that she can forgive me. She deserves a chance to be happy, and to be with someone who can give her that chance."

"You're not the only one who's ever hurt someone they love," Anakin told him softly, a sharp flash of pain unexpectedly stabbing through his chest. "I have caused Padmé so much pain that my heart burns every time I think about it. I have committed unimaginable sins, and I was so blind and arrogant that I nearly brought about her death. Yet every time, even after I have given her so many reasons to turn away, she forgives me. I don't understand it. I don't deserve it. But that's the way it is, Obi-Wan. That's the power of love. Sabé loves you … and she will forgive you."

"It would be the height of arrogance for me to accept her forgiveness," Obi-Wan said forcefully. "I would be claiming absolution for crimes for which I can never atone. The only way that the wounds that have inflicted will heal is if I am not around to reopen them. The Force must pass its judgment on me. I deserve whatever suffering awaits me in death."

"And Sabé deserves happiness," Anakin shot back. "You said that yourself. You're the only one who can give that to her, Obi-Wan. She needs you. They need you."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "_They_ need me? What do you mean _they_ need me?"

Anakin smiled, a gleam of vindication dancing in his eyes.

"You have a son, Obi-Wan. His name is Jadon Kenobi. He's nearly five years old now, and he looks almost exactly like you."

The reaction was instantaneous. Obi-Wan froze, his skin paling and his entire body stiffening with shock. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he stared at Anakin blankly as though he had not fully registered the true implication of the monumental revelation which had just been revealed. Once, twice, three times he tried to speak, but each time he was unable to force a distinctive sound through his stricken throat. Never before in life or death had the great Jedi Master been so completely at a loss for words.

After several painstaking seconds, he regained control of himself. He straightened up and looked directly into his former apprentice's triumphant eyes, as if seeking something to ground himself. Nevertheless when he spoke, his voice trembled.

"How … how is this possible?"

Anakin grinned mischievously. "How do you think, Obi-Wan? _Surely_ you haven't forgotten that illuminating talk you made me sit through all those years ago."

Obi-Wan barely seemed to hear Anakin's teasing jibe. He turned away again, gazing out through the window as if it were a portal to a long-forgotten memory. "Yes, there was that one time … but it all happened so fast. I never thought, never even dreamed …"

He spun around to face Anakin again. "What's he like? Does he have his mother's eyes? Is he quiet and reserved or bursting with life?"

"Your eyes, but his mother's nose and hair color, not to mention her quick wit," Anakin told him. "As for your second question, definitely the latter. The little whirlwind has so much energy that he wears me out every time I try to keep up with him."

"By the Force," Obi-Wan whispered, seeming to withdraw into himself. "I wasn't there. I wasn't there to see him grow up. The first time he stood up and walked, his first words …"

Anakin's eyes softened and he swallowed hard to force down the lump that had risen in his throat. "No, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "You weren't. And that makes it all the more important that you come back now. Jadon is strong, just like his mother and just like you, but he can't do it alone. You can't let him grow up without a father, Obi-Wan … you just can't."

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed, and for a moment Anakin thought he might have finally broken through the invisible wall that was separating the two of them. In the next moment, however, the gleam in his master's eyes faded and Obi-Wan spoke in a tone laden with pain and bitterness.

"A father," he said softly. "What kind of father would I be, Anakin? How can I face my son when, because of me, there are thousands of children just like him who will never grow up to reach their fullest potential, and thousands of parents who will never have the opportunity to love and support them like they should? How can I endanger my son by subjecting him to my terrible legacy? What could he ever learn from me that will not leave him worse off than if he had never met me? He will be far better off with some one like you to guide him, Anakin, someone who understands what it means to love and to live selflessly."

Patience had never been Anakin's strong suit. In fact, many around him, including himself, widely acknowledged it to be his weakest attribute. Given the circumstances, he thought that he had held himself together admirably well up till now. He had known how difficult and how painful it would be to do this, to fight through a shattered legacy and drag his master back from the suffocating embrace of death. Now, however, he was close, and the Force was telling him that time was running out. He _knew_ he was right, and Obi-Wan knew it too, but his former master was being stubborn, refusing to see the path ahead because he kept looking back, letting his guilt about the past cloud his vision of the future. Anakin had to make him acknowledge that, and soon, or else their last hope for redemption would fade away into the Force forever. It was, as it had been so many times before between the two of them, a contest of wills … and this time, there was far too much at stake for Anakin to lose.

"Do you know what I do every night, Obi-Wan?" he said forcefully, his tone so striking that it unconsciously seized his master's full attention. "Every night, before Padmé and I go to sleep, I go over to Sabé's apartment and ask to see Jadon. I always think that he'll be asleep because he ran around so much during the day, but he's always awake, sitting straight up in his bed, waiting for me. He won't go to sleep unless I tell him a story. Sometimes it's about flying … he wants to be a pilot, by the way … but usually, it's about you. Or I should say, the two of us. The adventures we had, traveling around the galaxy together, and all the trouble we got in to."

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed again, the corners of his mouth ticking up into a smile. Anakin continued.

"He loves those stories. He'll sit at rapt attention the whole time, almost like he's re-imagining that moment with him by our side as we battle hundreds of droids on Geonosis or we duel Count Dooku on a collapsing starship or I fight through a herd of stampeding gundarks to save you after you fell." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the last reference, but Anakin quickly pressed on before he could respond.

"The point is that when I'm finished, his entire face is lit up with excitement, full of possibilities and pride. And when I get up to leave, before his mother comes to tuck him in, he always asks me the same question."

Once again, Obi-Wan seemed have frozen, staring at his former apprentice with the same unfaltering attention as his son. "What's that?"

Anakin smiled, raising his voice to an almost perfect imitation of Jadon's eager tone. "Uncle Ani, my father was a good man, wasn't he?"

Obi-Wan's face remained rigid with anticipation. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth, Obi-Wan," Anakin said solemnly. "He was … and he still is."

The Jedi Master could not seem to come up with an adequate response. Once again, he turned away from Anakin and resumed his vigil of the brilliant skyline beyond the windows of the Council Chamber. The sun was lower in the sky now, just scraping the horizon as it readied itself for the final descent into the unknown.

"The day is ending," Obi-Wan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's almost time." He turned back to face his former apprentice, though still not meeting his eyes. "Anakin, you have to go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Anakin said resolutely. "Not unless you agree to stop denying what the Force truly wants for you and come back with me."

"My place is here," Obi-Wan said determinedly. "I belong with the Force now."

"All of us belong with the Force," Anakin countered. "All of us will become one with the Force … someday. Your time has not come yet, and you know it. You still have work to do, and I won't let you deny it any longer!"

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as if he had been stricken by some invisible wave of pain. "Damn it, Anakin, don't do this! Don't make this any harder for me than it already is! I sacrificed myself to destroy Vader, and I cannot take even the slightest risk he will return. I'm not strong enough to resist him!"

"Yes, you are," Anakin said confidently. "I know exactly how you feel, because I once thought as you do. There was a time not long ago, if you recall, when I accepted that which had long been written in the prophecy – that I was destined to become Darth Vader. But then I found my strength … through you, Obi-Wan … and I realized what I should have known from the beginning. When we stand alone, when we allow our divisions to overtake our strengths, Vader conquers all … but when we stand together, he cannot endure. He cannot stop us from taking our destiny and making it our own. He is but a shadow, and like all shadows, he must pass away with the renewal of the light."

Obi-Wan did not respond immediately, staring hard at the darkening skyline to the side of Anakin's head. In his eyes, however, Anakin thought he saw the indelible bands of frozen, determined resistance beginning to crack. He was wavering, bending to logic and reason as well as emotion. Still, they were down to their final few seconds, and Anakin could feel the reestablished connection beginning to falter under the steady, unrelenting grip of the eternal. They had come so far, but his master would not take the last few steps unless Anakin reached across the divide to him.

For the second time, the Chosen One extended his left hand, stretching across the emptiness of time and space towards his brother. "It's now or never, Obi-Wan. I can't make you come back … but if you're willing to try, I can help you find your way."

Obi-Wan finally met Anakin's eyes, scanning them in seeming hope for any hint of uncertainty which would allow him to step away and disappear into the Force forever. Anakin gave him none. Though his throat was dry and his muscles were straining with unbearable tension, he held himself perfectly steady. He knew deep down in his core that this seemingly impossible effort was in fact no effort of his at all. The Force was guiding his actions, and as its vessel he could do no more than watch as its will played out before him.

At long last, without any further sign but a slight bowing of his shoulders, Obi-Wan's last vestiges of resistance crumbled away. With painstaking slowness, he began to raise his own hand, bringing it up from his side until it was level with Anakin's. He held it there, the tips of their fingers only centimeters apart. Neither moved to close the distance for several more moments, and anxiety began to creep into Anakin's heart. _What are you waiting for?_

Obi-Wan seemed to sense the younger man's thought with perfect clarity. He offered a small smile, and in that frame of an instant it was easy to forget that he was one of the greatest Jedi Masters to ever have lived.

"I have no idea what to expect," he said quietly. "I'm afraid."

"So am I, Obi-Wan," Anakin said with complete honesty. "So am I."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows quizzically. "But you're the Hero Without Fear, Anakin."

"I never was above my fear," Anakin admitted. "But all I've been through has taught me that my fear is not a weakness, but a strength. Fear is inevitable for those who allow themselves to freely love, and the only people without fear are those with nothing to lose … and nothing to live for."

Nothing further could be said, and nothing else needed to be. The skyline had dimmed to the point where only the narrowest strip of orange fire could be seen. Just before the last flare of light succumbed to the onrushing horizon, master and apprentice each took one step towards the other and locked hands, closing the distance between them at last.

Immediately the scene around them began to dissolve, and the Jedi Council Chamber vanished in a tornado of colored light. The two brothers were gathered up as one and thrown into a massive gale that buffeted them around like ragged leaves in a storm … yet they did not move as the torrential fabric of time and space formed a vortex around them. Blurs of light, darkness, and other shades that were completely indistinguishable to them roared by at impossibly fast speeds, far too chaotic for either of them to try and watch. Anakin tried to keep his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan's face, but eventually the storm became so disorientating that he had no choice but to close his eyes. He continued to hold on tightly to his master's hand, and even as the unseen winds tried to tear them apart he felt a tremendous heat igniting at the center of their grasp, keeping them bound together at the heart of an all-consuming fire …

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over as Anakin felt himself slam back into his own mind and body with jarring thud. A large volume of air that he had not even been conscious of holding in was forcibly expelled from his lungs, and he had to take several deep breaths to ground himself before he toppled over. At least two pairs of unseen hands reached out to steady him, but though he was grateful for their support, he found that he did not need it. His strength was returning even as readjusted to the galaxy around him.

As Anakin opened his eyes, the first things he saw were Padmé and Mace, who were peering at him with great concern mixed with evident relief. As soon as it became clear to them that he was not in any way injured, however, they fell back, struck by the invisible intuition that something monumental had occurred.

His heart pounding relentlessly against his ribs, Anakin's gaze fell upon the still form of his former master. Obi-Wan's eyes remained tightly closed and no sign of life marked his features. Yet amidst the ceaseless currents of the Force, Anakin felt massive wave of light and heat crashing over him, cascading into his mind through the long-ruptured channel that had once bound him to his brother. It was so powerfully pure that for a moment Anakin could do nothing but marvel at how something so immense and so familiar could have sprung out of seeming nothingness. Yet even as he knelt there, overcome with awe, a remarkable transformation began to take place.

Soft bluish light was coalescing around Obi-Wan's mortal wounds, including the ragged hole where Anakin's lightsaber had torn through his abdomen, the deep gash across his chest where his life-support system had been catastrophically damaged, and the cauterized stump of his right arm. The wounded areas began to glow with the same light, which grew in intensity as the tattered flesh began to pull back together and a new layer of skin stretched over the fresh scar tissue. After a few seconds, all of the Jedi Master's wounds, with the exception of his severed arm, had vanished, leaving only faint, nearly invisible scars to mark the passage of the Chosen One's wrath.

Anakin remained stricken in place, held fast by a grip that was still every bit as tight as death. The room's onlookers watched with disbelief as color began to return to the Jedi Master's deathly pale face, a slight flush marking the passage of rekindled circulation. Without any warning, an unseen impulse jolted his body and his chest expanded outward, sucking in a shallow, ragged breath that nonetheless seemed to pull all the remaining air out of the room.

No one dared to move, and no one wanted to. Time itself stood still as the long-lost Jedi Master opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan blinked slowly several times, clearly unused to the harshness of unfiltered light, however dim it was. He strained his gaze, apparently unable to focus after over five years behind a mask. Eventually, however, by some natural readjustment or the guidance of the Force, his piercing blue orbs came to rest with their familiar sharpness upon the young man whom he had mentored for thirteen long years. His eyes widened slightly, as if he could not believe the sight which had befallen them, and with a clearly agonizing effort, he forced a rasping but nonetheless distinguishable sound past his lips.

"A … na … kin?"

Anakin smiled, a dazzling and heartfelt expression that reflected an indescribable magnitude of joy and relief even as his own eyes welled up with tears.

"Welcome back, old friend."

Obi-Wan raised his head and shoulders off the floor, taking in with apparent surprise his freshly healed wounds, as well as the battered, bloodstained armor he wore. Anakin quickly reached out with his free hand, attempting to force the Jedi Master to lie down again, but Obi-Wan shrugged off his efforts, and, gritting his teeth through what was surely immense lingering pain, dragged himself into a half-sitting, half-slumping position. It was only then that Anakin realized that he was still clutching his master's left hand, and their locked grip had reached a crushing level of intensity. Beneath the Jedi's armored gauntlet, he could detect the strong hint of a pulse, which had been so absent before. It was the unmistakable marker of renewed life.

Sabé was staring rigidly at her beloved Obi-Wan's face in profound awe, a fresh wave of tears crystallizing in her deep brown eyes. Padmé, Mace, and Yoda were similarly paralyzed, acutely aware that what was unfolding before them could only be described as a miracle conjured from the most unfathomable depths of the Force. Obi-Wan, however, seemed at that moment to be unaware of the presence of the others. His lancing stare was still locked on his former apprentice, the man who had single-handedly pulled him back from the eternal embrace of death.

"Anakin …" he gasped, his voice stronger now but his frail, now unassisted lungs still struggling to draw in enough air to both keep him breathing and allow him to speak. "Help me stand."

"Obi-Wan, that's not a good idea," Anakin said haltingly. "You've just been through a terrible ordeal. You need to rest … you don't have the strength …"

"I have … the strength …" Obi-Wan whispered. "You … you showed me. Please … let me stand."

Anakin bit his lip, torn. Every modicum of rationality he possessed was screaming at him to ignore his brother's pleas and keep him down. Reincarnated or not, Obi-Wan had still lost an incredible amount of blood, and the sudden stress brought on standing might be enough to cause him to black out, possibly even trigger heart failure. Yet the determined gleam in Obi-Wan's newly reopened eyes was enough to inspire conviction. The Force would not let them fail, not after they had come so far … and if he had listened only to rationality all these years, he would have been dead long ago.

The Chosen One pushed himself to his feet, then reached down and pulled his former master into an upright position. As he did so, what remained of Vader's helmet slid backwards off of his head and clattered noisily to the floor. Obi-Wan's legs trembled from the exertion of supporting his frail, heavily armored body, but amazingly he did not fall. Nevertheless, Anakin kept a firm hand on his shoulder as he reached out to the Force to help him secure his balance.

Once he had achieved a passable degree of steadiness, Obi-Wan turned his head from side to side, taking in the ruined majesty of the room for the first time with his own eyes. His gaze passed over the shattered crater that had once been Palpatine's throne and the battered dais, finally coming to rest on the cold, broken body of the Emperor himself, lying carelessly strewn a few meters away. The Jedi Master raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise and slowly turned back to face Anakin. "Did … did you do that?"

"You did, Obi-Wan," Anakin told him. "You were the one who finally brought his long reign of tyranny to an end. Of course, I did soften him up to make things easier for you beforehand."

"Well …" Obi-Wan forced out dryly, his eyes flickering with a strange emotion, "I suppose that Sith Lords _are_ our specialty."

A triumphant, disbelieving smile spread across Anakin's face, an infectious expression that was impossible to contain. Without any warning he began to laugh harder than he had laughed in years, possibly harder than he had ever laughed before. Obi-Wan, despite his momentary weakness, began to join in as well. His mirth quickly equaled Anakin's, their voices mingling in a harmonious concordance of joy and pure exhilaration.

With that unifying release of humor, any remaining sense of uncertainty between the two of them was shattered. One second, they were standing opposite one another, caught up in the irony of the moment, and the next, even as they continued to laugh, they had moved forward and were crushing one another in an unrestrained embrace, one that carried the full weight and poignancy of a reunion of two brothers five years in the making.

Anakin's tears, which he had long held back, freely flowed down his face as he clung to the living, breathing reincarnation of his master, the man who had believed in him when so many others had doubted, and who had stood with him when everyone else had been ready to turn away. As they stood there, caught up in all the emotion, he was aware that this long-awaited moment felt much less like a reunion than a reawakening, and the stunning revelation returned that Obi-Wan had never truly left him. Qui-Gon's words, the ones which had first marked the resurgence of hope, now rang back to him, their meaning clear as day.

_Obi-Wan is alive, Anakin. He lives in you. Your love for his memory has kept him strong. If you open yourself to your heart, you will see that I speak the truth._

Anakin reached out to the Force, filling his heart with all the love, gratitude, and wonder he was feeling in that long-lasting moment, sending out a message to the man who had now twice saved him from a life of slavery. He received no definite acknowledgement, but it did not matter: he knew that Qui-Gon was listening, and that he had heard.

After a span of several minutes which felt like an eternity, Anakin and Obi-Wan broke their embrace. Anakin, mildly embarrassed at having been so thoroughly overcome by his emotions, hastily wiped an arm across his eyes to clear his vision, and saw that he was not alone. His former master had never been one for tears; in fact, Anakin had never seen him cry. Now, however, the tears were running thick and fast down his heavily scarred yet still distinct features, falling onto the black plates of his armor. It was a strange sight, yet it was so natural and so … human. It had been so easy to forget, given the awe-inspiring aura of Darth Vader, that the being who lurked behind the mask and the suit had, in fact, been human, and capable of something so simple and yet so complex as ability to cry.

Obi-Wan finally turned his head away from his former apprentice … and almost immediately froze. His gaze had fallen on Sabé, who had slid gracefully away from Padmé, Mace, and Yoda and was now standing about three meters away from Obi-Wan, waiting silently for something. A wave of deeply abiding pain hit Obi-Wan's eyes, mixed with a hint of cold fear. Nevertheless, he pulled away from Anakin's steadying grasp and, without any prompting or assistance, began to shuffle his way towards her. Off-balance, every step was uneven and hesitant, but he did not falter or turn back as he closed the distance between them, stopping only a few short paces away. Sucking in an agonizing breath, he met her eyes.

"Sabé …" he said softly, in a tone that was barely audible to everyone but her. "I'm so … so sorry. I swore to you that I would never hurt you, but I have … I've hurt more deeply than anyone could ever know. I know that you can never, ever forgive me for what I have done, but I want you to know that I …"

He got no further. Sabé closed the remaining distance between them and claimed his lips in a desperate, passionate kiss that conveyed more with its sheer urgency and intensity than any words could ever say.

A new smile broke over Anakin's face and he stepped away, graciously ceding the stage to the two long-lost lovers. With unconscious ease he reached out and found Padmé standing beside him, pulling her in close to him. Padmé melted willingly into his embrace, resting her head lovingly against his shoulder. The Chosen One looked down at his wife and exchanged with her a long, meaningful look. As between Sabé and Obi-Wan, no words needed to be said.

Yoda sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, generously choosing in the spirit of the moment to overlook the flagrant violation of the Jedi Code which was playing out before him. Mace, meanwhile, turned his attention to Anakin, who could not help but widen his smile to a grin at the sight of his friend's utter confusion. For the first time in his life, the great Jedi Master appeared completely lost.

"I … don't understand, Anakin," he said quietly, his tone still laden with disbelief and awe. "How?"

The grin did not leave the younger man's face as he answered.

"You were right, Master Windu – no power, not even that of the Force, can bring back the dead. The Force can, however, help us to bridge the divide between two conflicting sides of a whole and set us on the right path towards finding that which we believed to be lost. Obi-Wan sacrificed his life to ensure the final destruction of Darth Vader, but he never became one with the Force - because there was a small part of him that was still tied to the realm of the living. That part of him was the part that had lived on through me, through our bond, and the bonds that he shared with all those who loved him. It was sustained through all these years by our memories of him, memories and love which were untainted by the Shadow of Vader. It was the strength of those memories that I was able to tap into to pull myself back from the darkness, and that same strength which provided the energy to restore his life."

Understanding, mixed with no small measure of wonder, began to dawn on Mace's features. He smiled and, in an almost fatherly way, reached out and placed his silver right hand on Anakin's left shoulder.

"You have learned so much, Anakin, and come so far. Words cannot describe how proud I am of you. I am so sorry that I doubted you, particularly at such an age when I, as well as the rest of the Council, would have better served you by learning, as you have, to trust the will of the Force. I sincerely hope that one day you can forgive me … forgive all of us … for our foolishness and lack of faith."

Anakin smiled and looked over Mace's shoulder, where Obi-Wan and Sabé were still standing together, their eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together as they whispered words that only they could hear. "Let the past be the past, Mace. Forgiveness is a lesson best learned by working together to heal and create a better future."

Mace laughed. "That, Anakin, is wisdom to which all of us would do well to listen."

Out of nowhere, an enormous explosion, many times louder than the one that had hit the palace several minutes previously, deafened everyone, shaking the foundations of the throne room. Several others followed in quick succession, followed by several panicked shouts coming from several floors below.

"They've broken through! Fall back, men, fall back! Protect the Emperor!"

"Our forces!" Padmé exclaimed. "They must have gotten through the door!"

"And from the sound of things, it won't be too long until they're banging on this one," a familiar voice said dryly. Obi-Wan, with Sabé helping to support him, was limping towards them, his face nonetheless alight with a renewed vigor. "Might I suggest that our ongoing reunion would be better served in a different location?"

"The most insufferably sarcastic yet infallibly practical of all of us, Obi-Wan remains," Master Yoda declared, shuffling off towards the door. "Heed his wisdom, we should."

"Even death can't change some things, Master," Obi-Wan told him, smiling down at Sabé, who returned the expression with radiance. "It's good to see you, too."

"I think I know how to get out of here," Mace said, "But then again, someone else might know a better way." He turned to look at the Chosen One. "What do you think, Anakin?"

Anakin grinned. In the coming months, there would be no avoiding the responsibility that would come with leading the galaxy back to peace and prosperity. It was a heavy burden for which he now felt fully prepared and ready to take on. This moment, however … there would not be many more moments like it on the horizon, possibly ever again. Even if the entire Imperial Palace was collapsing around him, he wanted to savor for just a little longer the full magnitude of what they had finally regained. So, instead, he just leaned down to kiss Padmé.

"Trust the Force, Master Windu," he said. "I trust you."

* * *

**Next Chapter**: _The final battle between the Rebellion and the Empire draws to an unexpected conclusion as the fate of Alderaan hangs in the balance ..._


	66. Mission Point

A belated Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!

I hope that everyone out there had a wonderful time yesterday with friends and family. There hasn't been a lot of good news recently, particularly given the increasingly somber state of the economy, but though we are all facing our own personal struggles, I really believe that having the opportunity to spend time with those we love can do a great deal to ease the burdens of troubled minds. There's a lot to be said for the taking a moment to appreciate all those blessings which make our lives meaningful.

Anyway, onto the business at hand. After surviving the quarter and taking several much needed days to get my mind back on track, I finally have the next chapter of The Shadow of Vader, locked and loaded, ready to go. This chapter and the next are effectively a two-parter - I will have the next installment up in a day or two. We're really on the homestretch now, the finish line in sight, and with a little luck, there will be no stumbles the rest of the way. I hope that you enjoy this next chapter, and that you will hang with me for the next few weeks. A thousand thanks for your patience and kindness. It's great to be back!

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**Chapter 66**

_Who would have ever thought it would come down to this?_

Jax Bronson felt as though the entire galaxy was closing in around him. His limbs tense, his heart pounding, his stomach boiling with suppressed fear, he nevertheless managed to keep his eyes determinedly focused on the rapidly approaching curtain of at least a hundred TIE Fighters which had materialized between him and his target. Behind them, the Death Star loomed ever larger, a seemingly indestructible force bearing down upon the last hope for the Alliance's survival. It seemed ludicrous that he, seated at the controls of a battered, one-man starfighter, without even the support of his squadron, could ever find a way to break through the monumental station's defenses, which were easily repelling the most heavily-armed capital ships, and survive long enough to find its one weakness ... all in the narrow window of time remaining before the Death Star unleashed a torrent of firepower great enough to annihilate Alderaan and its several billion citizens.

The pressure - the sheer enormity of the situation and its potential consequences - was crushing. Jax's head throbbed painfully - if he could only have a moment to think, to plan ...

But he didn't have that moment. Those TIEs would be within range at any second, and he, still taken aback by their sudden appearance and bereft of any plan to deal with them, was barreling towards them at top speed, a single arrow aimed at the heart of an invincible beast. His thoughts tore through his mind at an even greater pace as he drew upon years of military logic and experience to devise some way of avoiding a direct confrontation. He was coming up empty and time was running down ...

"I hate to cast a shadow on our sunny little parade, but this doesn't look good." Han Solo's brash voice cut into Jax's musings. The young Corellian noted, with no mild surprise, that the _Millennium Falcon_ was still hanging on his wing, even as they faced an onrushing wave of destruction. "If you've got a plan to get us through that line, now would be a great time to share it with the rest of us."

"Quiet, Solo," Jax shot back, "I'm working on it."

"Well, work faster," Solo retorted. "Because if I don't hear something in about ten seconds ..."

Jax barely heard him, his entire conscious compressing painfully to one point as though caught in the coils of a steel snake. For years, he had fantasized about vanquishing the Empire and avenging the deaths of all those he had loved and cared for, but while he was confident in his skills and his underlying conviction, he had never braced himself to handle the truly crushing weight of such expectations, the brutal grind of every second he would have to eke out to reach the deciding climax, or, most importantly, the all-consuming fear of what awaited not only the citizens of Alderaan but the entire galaxy if he should fail. That fear, in its crushing and inescapable omnipresence, was enough to cripple his limbs and paralyze his mind, overriding his ingrained military instincts just long enough for him to make a single crucial error that would destroy his chances and send him spiraling into nothingness.

Fear had kept him alive so far, but now it was turning against him at the worst possible moment. Jax's lungs ached with the realization that every breath he took might be his last, that he might in the next moment simply cease to exist, that he might never see the faces of those he loved again. But if he didn't find a way to master his fear, to soldier through it and stay focused on his goal, then billions of others would never have those opportunities either. Crazy, impossible, suicidal ... none of it mattered. He had to succeed. He had to at least try.

"We're going for it," he said abruptly, and Solo's voice faded away in surprise. "Full speed, straight through the line. We'll pick up pursuit, but if we're fast enough, we'll be in position to start our approach before they can get a lock on us."

"That's the best strategy you can come up with?" Solo demanded incredulously. "Are you _trying_ to get us all killed? We're fast enough to make an end-around and circumnavigate this thing ..."

"We don't have time for that, Solo," Jax said steadily. "This is the only chance we've got. You can still walk away."

There was a heavy pause, one that hung in the air so long that Jax thought that the _Falcon_ would indeed peel off and leave him to face the TIEs alone.

"Hey, I told you I'd watch your back," Solo responded finally, the brashness gone from his voice. "But you're not going to make it easy for me."

Jax smiled. "I never promised this would be easy, Captain."

"No, you didn't," Solo said tensely. "In that case, Bronson, let's make these Imperial stiffs eat some ions."

Jax's eyes flashed as he pushed his accelerator to maximum. "Couldn't say it better myself."

Aligning in tight formation, the two mismatched craft screamed toward the cordon of TIE Fighters at a speed that would have shamed a space racer. The TIEs drew lines of fire on them, but they were unprepared for such a dramatic increase in acceleration. Even as they condensed towards the center of the formation, however, the two young pilots did not slow their approach. Their own guns blazing a trail of molten light before them, they smashed into the center of their enemies' roadblock, sending Imperial fighters and pulverized debris scattering in all directions before them. Jax's craft rattled mercilessly as it was buffeted on all sides by laserfire, solid objects, and the steadily increasing force of continued acceleration. Then, less than five seconds later, they were through, streaking across a completely open stretch of space towards the Death Star.

Han whooped, but Jax did not allow himself to show any signs of triumph. The path before them might be clear now, but it would not remain so for long, and meanwhile, there was a far greater threat bearing down on them from behind as a hundred vengeful TIE Fighters spun around and raced after them, a hail of green laser fire leading the way.

"We're clear, but not for long," Jax announced grimly. "Fall in with me and bank for the Death Star - now!"

The young Corellian shoved his control stick forward, sending his X-Wing into a steep dive. Solo copied him. The Death Star's steel grey surface rushed up to meet them, growing larger and larger until it filled Jax's entire viewport, blocking out the stars around it and everything else. Jax's vision began to grey slightly under the force of such tremendous acceleration, but he refused to let up. Despite the shadows creeping into the corners of his eyes, the station's seemingly smooth surface began to grow more and more distinct as they drew in closer, revealing an endless field of control towers, satellite receivers, and gun turrets. A few hundred kilometers to the south, a thin dark band was visible, marking the Death Star's equatorial trench. That was were he needed to get to, but the path there was sure to be treacherous, as a direct approach was out of the question.

A few seconds before his craft would have crashed into the Death Star's surface, Jax pulled up hard and to the left, sharply redirecting his craft to skate just above the enormous durasteel plain. Almost immediately, the gun turrets began to turn in his direction, attempting to bring their enormous yawning barrels to bear on his starfighter. Out of respect, Jax designated them for tracking on his in-flight computer, but in truth, the guns were among the least of his worries. Their massive firepower was designed to be used against capital ships, the kind of vessels which the station's designers would have expected to be used in staging an attack against the Death Star. As long as he didn't get too close, his X-Wing and Solo's freighter had little to fear. His most pressing fear was that the TIE Fighters, which only now seemed to be realizing that he was making an apparently suicidal approach to the massive battle station they were charged to defend, would swoop down in force and pin him against the surface before he could reach the trench and start his run.

"Here they come!" Solo exclaimed. "Get ready to fly, Lieutenant."

Jax did not answer, but locked his jaw in a grim expression. _Right, time to show off my moves._

The TIEs came roaring in, a wing of about ten fighters in perfect V-formation. Interesting ... it seemed that they weren't going to use swarm tactics, at least not right away. In all fairness to them, they could hardly expect that they would need to employ over a hundred craft to take down an ordinary Rebel pilot. But in all fairness to Jax, he was no ordinary pilot.

A strafing line of laserfire erupted behind Jax's tail as the TIEs fell in behind him. Without conscious exertion, Jax fell into his standard routine of evasive maneuvers, sliding in and out of their targeting scopes with the practiced ease of a veteran. No sooner had one managed to achieve lock-on than Jax broke it, slipping away and allowing another member of the squad to hone in. Then just as their fingers came down on the trigger, he would dance away again, a maddening display of skill and perceptive instinct that quickly wore away even at battle-hardened nerves of the Imperial pilots.

A short distance away, Solo was engaged in a similar pattern of duck and weave, only he was adding vertical dimensions as well. Despite having the larger and more maneuverable craft, the TIEs were not focusing as heavily on him as they were on Jax, perhaps because the freighter outwardly appeared less threatening. Whatever the reasons, the Imperials seemed to believe that they could handle the Falcon with only two or three craft. It was an assumption that was all too easy to make, and Solo was making them pay. His ship deftly swept through their lines of traffic, forcing their pursuers to take notice and divert some their attention to containing him. Meanwhile, the young man handling the gun turret - Lando - was hammering the formation with a near-constant stream of fire, gradually thinning out their ranks. In less than a minute, four TIEs had already vanished from Jax's screen, leaving the survivors more diffuse and allowing him greater room to maneuver. He continued to zigzag towards his target at top velocity, the dark band representing the trench growing ever larger and wider as he closed the distance. By this time, three more TIEs had either peeled off or been destroyed - the Falcon and its young captain were proving surprisingly effective.

"Good job, kid," he declared. "Keep it up, we're getting close ..."

Arfour suddenly let out a high-pitched wail, and Jax did not have to look far to see the cause of his distress. Another wing of TIEs, much larger than the first, was bearing down towards them from ahead and above, their trademark twin ion engines howling with foreboding. They had materialized between Jax and the trench, and the young pilot quickly realized that he had less than two seconds before his craft ran headlong into a hailstorm of laserfire.

"Look out!"

Jax threw his craft into an upward spiral, ascending back towards the stars. Potshots rattled the underbelly of his craft as he carried himself over the wave of TIEs, who adjusted their angle of pursuit to track him. Higher and higher Jax climbed, rocketing back towards open space at an angle approaching vertical. Then, several dozen kilometers above the surface, he leveled out, reversed course, and plunged back towards the surface as rapidly as his fighter's construction would allow. His vision graying out yet again, but Jax nevertheless fixed his gaze to fixate on the dark scar of the trench just visible through his narrowed eyes.

The TIEs, which had not managed to follow him through his maneuver, were now honing in on him again with renewed veracity. Blood pounded dully in Jax's veins, matching the rhythm of the explosions erupting on all sides of his ship. The force of acceleration tore at his body, causing his muscles tremendous strain as they fought to keep his dive steady. He could feel the darkness calling to him even as he pushed himself still harder. Hold on ...

As the trench rocketed up towards him like a yawning chasm, Jax pulled his X-Wing level. Sensing an opportunity, the Imperials swept in behind him. Then, without any warning, a blinding burst of light filled the cockpit, followed by an enormous explosion that overwhelmed all his senses.

Jax tensed involuntarily, expecting to feel the heat of the blast scorching his skin. However, after a second he realized that his craft was, remarkably, undamaged. Furthermore, his display screen, which had been swarming with red dots depicting the enemies trailing him, was now almost entirely clear.

"What the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself.

"Those Imperials slugs ran into crossfire from one of their own cannons," Solo's voice drifted through over the channel. He had managed to anticipate Jax's maneuver and follow him through it. Jax was impressed; the young captain was proving himself even more adept than he could have anticipated. "It was tracking you, but either you were a hair too fast or their reflexes were a hair too slow."

"It had better be the former," Jax quipped. "I don't think that we're going to be able to count on getting an assist from our erstwhile friends on the station a second time."

"Probably not," Solo said evenly. "But we can count on not being left to our own devices for too long."

Solo was right, Jax thought grimly. Already his display was filling up again, a swath of red dots heading straight for him. They had to know he was up to something by now. They didn't have much time.

"Right," he said. "Let's make our run. We're only going to get one shot at this."

"How much time do you think we have?"

Jax set his mouth in a bitter line. "Before the Imperials are on us again or before this station blows Alderaan out of the sky?"

"Not long, huh?"

"No," Jax tightened his grip on the controls and punched the button to bring up his targeting computer. "Not long at all."

**************************************************

"The Death Star is on its final approach vector to Alderaan. Estimated time to firing range, twenty minutes."

Moff Wilhuff Tarkin narrowed his eyes and sighed, making no effort to conceal his mounting impatience. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, the Death Star would be close enough to Alderaan to discharge its superlaser and turn the rebellious planet into dust. In twenty minutes, the Empire's glorious and everlasting victory would be complete, and his glory assured. In those twenty minutes, however, there was nothing he could do but wait.

Tarkin despised waiting. The Moff was a man of singular focus, and he took immense pride in his capacity to control his operations down to their finest detail. His men, his battlestation ... all would respond immediately to his smallest command. But time ... time he could not control. It would only ever move at its own deliberate pace, and no force in the galaxy could compel it to change its cycle.

"Sir?"

Tarkin turned his head a few degrees to the right to see the Death Star's captain standing beside him. The man's face was even paler than usual and he looked strangely shaken. Tarkin felt a momentary flash of annoyance at this barely concealed display of weakness in their hour of triumph - what could this man possibly be distressed about when they were so close now to victory? Nevertheless, he was inwardly glad that he had been drawn out of his musings, as long as the matter at hand was not something utterly trivial. Taking charge of a temporary matter would allow him to momentarily distract himself from the interminable plague of waiting for the seconds to tick by.

"What, Captain?"

"Sir ..." the man said slowly, his voice halting - it was almost a stammer. "Sir, we've ... we've just received a message from the Imperial Palace."

Tarkin straightened his already rigid posture even further. The Emperor had expressed a desire to be informed as soon as the station had completed its mission - doubtless he was seeking an update on their progress. The Moff smiled thinly and fixed his subordinate with a cold, imperious stare.

"Ah, yes. Inform the Emperor that we are still too far from the planet to discharge the superlaser, but we are routing the rebels and shall be in range momentarily. Tell him that I will be honored to give him a full and detailed report as soon as we ..."

"S...Sir ..." the captain cut him off. Tarkin glared at the white, shaking man with a cold fury - never before had any of his subordinates dared to interrupt him. Before he could issue the impudent officer a withering rebuke, however, the captain spoke again in a jumbled rush, as though he were afraid that he would lose his nerve if he hesitated for a moment longer.

"I'm sorry sir, but the Emperor ... he's dead. They've found his body, sir."

Tarkin spun around on his heel so fast that his impeccably polished boots left a mark on the durasteel floor. His razor-sharp mind seemed to gone momentarily numb – he must have misheard.

"_What did you say_?" he demanded harshly, his steel grey eyes lancing through the officer's quickly fading facade. His voice, low and controlled, was almost a hiss. "The Emperor … that is impossible!"

"Sir, the message came over the Imperial Palace's emergency frequency - the Rebels have succeeded in breaking into the Emperor's inner sanctum. His Majesty's Royal Guards retreated to his throne room to evacuate him ... but they were too late. They found him at the base of his throne, half the room destroyed, and no sign of His Majesty's killer."

Tarkin's carefully controlled heartbeat suddenly began to increase, and he felt blood pounding relentlessly through the thin walls of his veins. Even after years of hardened military discipline and of cultivating an unfailing disregard for life in any form, his system was not quite prepared for the shock of what he had just heard.

It could not be true - his Highness had foreseen everything. He was far too powerful to succumb to the pitiful efforts of the Rebellion to dethrone him, especially at the very dawn of his total and everlasting victory! This had to be a ruse put forward by the Alliance to distract him from the act he was about to commit. It was the only rational, reasonable explanation ... the only explanation possible. And yet ...

"Have they examined the body?" he asked forcefully, refusing to betray any sign of weakness that would demonstrate that this underhanded ploy was affecting him. The Rebels were too stupid to have thought things out this far; if they could not provide a convincing answer ...

"Yes, sir, by the Emperor's own specialists. According to their report, the cause of His Majesty's ... demise ... was a long slashing wound across his chest which penetrated his heart and lungs. His right arm was also found to be severed, and he had suffered numerous other burns and internal injuries. The wounds ... the wounds were cauterized, sir."

Tarkin felt a cold spear of realization pierce his stomach. Even before the first wave of shocking truth had ripped through him, however, it was burned away by an incontrollable wave of malicious heat. Cauterized ... that could only mean ...

_Vader._

So the cursed usurper had acted at last! Tarkin closed his eyes as an avalanche of pure hatred cascaded through him, every muscle in his body tensing and his hand curling into fists. He had never been able to comprehend why the Emperor, omnipresent and all-knowing as he was, had allowed his apprentice to have such an excessive degree of free reign, especially when the Dark Lord of the Sith had proven himself untrustworthy following the destruction of Dantooine. Vader's ideology and driving motivation had never truly been in line with Palpatine and Tarkin's vision for the Empire - even after being burned past the point of all recognition he had maintained his commitment to lofty, unreachable concepts like peace and honor and justice. Even as he had relentlessly (and, Tarkin had to admit, effectively) protected and advanced the interests of the Empire all across the galaxy, the man who had once been the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had never accepted the true mission of the Empire: the domination, through fear, of every living being in the galaxy. He had done everything in his power to undermine it, from opposing the deployment of the ultimate weapon to diverting the Emperor's attention with his endless vendetta against and pursuit of the all-but-extinct order of the Jedi - most prominently Anakin Skywalker. Now, at this most crucial moment, the two-faced sorcerer had pulled off his greatest coup of all. He had most likely been planning this moment for months, timing his treachery so as to seize power under the cover of the final battle.

Tarkin opened his eyes and barely suppressed a tight-lipped snarl. He had to admit - it had been, up until this point at least, a masterful deception. The Dark Lord had read his cards well and had played a nearly perfect hand, crossing his master as smoothly as he had once crossed his former masters among the Jedi. Unfortunately for him, however, he had left one very important factor out of his calculations: the Death Star. Nothing that Vader had in his arsenal could hope to compete with the firepower Tarkin had under his command. Palpatine was gone - but the destiny of the Empire had not changed. Once the final obstacle of the Rebellion was out of the way, he would turn the tables on the lumbering mechanical brute before he could take more than a few ill-gotten breaths on his newly-gained throne.

The Captain, oblivious to Tarkin's revelation, was still recounting the details of the attack. "There was no sign of forced entry, so the killers must have come from inside. They will have more substantive details for you when we return to Imperial Center. I have already issued the order to withdraw ..."

"That's enough, Captain," Tarkin snapped, silencing the officer with a cutting glare. "Cancel the order to withdraw immediately. We are going to finish this, right here and now."

The captain's mouth fell open in shock and he stared at the Moff as though he had never seen him before. "Sir, the Emperor has just been murdered ..."

"I'm aware of that, Captain," Tarkin said coldly. "The loss of His Majesty is tragic, but it will not distract us from our present plans. The Emperor's final command to us was that Alderaan, the heart of the Rebellion, be obliterated, and I intend to see it done. Do you understand?"

The Captain's pallor had faded; a rising red flush was creeping onto his face as he stared directly into his superior's eyes, drawing himself up to his full height. "Sir, with all due respect ..."

"I have given you an order, and you will obey it! Your loyalty is to _me_!" Tarkin shot at him venomously, his grey eyes flashing with controlled rage. "_Do you understand_?"

The Captain shook his head slightly at the furious Moff and slowly backed away from him, a look of utter contempt working its way onto his face. "Find yourself another captain, Moff Tarkin. My loyalty is to the Empire, and _you_ are not the government I swore to serve."

He turned away, marching rigidly down the bridge. Tarkin stared after him for a long moment, paralyzed by fury. Then, with a sudden, abrupt movement, he lunged forward and snatched a blaster pistol from the belt of a shield technician seated only a few paces away. Snarling, the Moff swung the weapon up to shoulder height and aimed it at the retreating back of his mutinous captain. He pulled the trigger once, and a streak of red light lanced from its barrel, striking the officer between the shoulder blades. The captain collapsed, lying facedown on the floor, a thin trail of smoke rising from a wound marking the passage of the fatal bolt into and out of his body, through his heart.

A stunned silence fell across the bridge. Tarkin, his eyes glowing with a cold, fanatical light, stared hard at the body of the slain man lying on deck a few meters away. Then, almost carelessly, he lowered the blaster to his side and surveyed the bridge with an imperious glare, scrutinizing the face of each and every member of the crew as if searching for other signs of latent treachery.

"_I_ speak for the Empire now," he said harshly, his lip curling and his voice laden with the weight of newfound authority. "Is there anyone else who would like to question my judgment?"

No one spoke - every living being on the bridge was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. Tarkin waited for a few seconds, then, seeming to take their silence for an answer, offered up a grim smile of satisfaction. "Carry on, then. We fire the moment the target enters our range."

The officers scrambled hurriedly back to their stations, pressing buttons, throwing switches, and reactivating monitors. Tarkin nodded imperceptibly in approval, then pressed the technician's pistol into the hands of a nearby stormtrooper and jerked his head in the direction of the captain's body. "Clean that mess up. Now!"

He strode back to his original position, gazing through narrowed eyes out the viewport, a renewed sense of power and destiny through him. The heavy news of the Emperor's demise had already faded from his thoughts; had it not been for the smoldering sense of range which was still festering in his soul at the thought of his rival, he would have felt positively light-hearted. Everything had already fallen into place for him; Fate, it seemed, favored the bold, the dominant, and the ruthless.

The way forward now was perfectly clear. He would use the Death Star to destroy Alderaan, and then he would return to the capital to confront the traitor. What did it matter if Vader now had the entirety of the Imperial Fleet under his command? The Death Star was indestructible; Tarkin had assured himself of that before he had approved the final designs. When he emerged over Imperial Center, the entire system would tremble before his coming. Vader, the usurper, would have no choice but to yield to his demands, or else face total annihilation. For he would stop at nothing, even if he had to stake his rightful claim by destroying Imperial Center, and with it, over one trillion sentient beings. There was a sacrifice that not even the Dark Lord of the Sith could make.

_Emperor Tarkin_. He quite liked the sound of it. Cold, yet noble. Cruel, yet regal. Truly, his was a name worthy of the highest title.

And Vader ... he would suffer. Ordinarily Tarkin despised administering a long, painful death when a quick, ruthless one would serve just as well, but just this once, he would be willing to make an exception. Vader was an abomination, an inhuman fiend whose twisted ideology had no place in a galaxy that was meant to serve the needs of the powerful. He would tear the cursed mask from the traitor's face just so that for one moment, he could look into his enemy's eyes and let him know who truly possessed the strongest, most unbreakable will in the galaxy.

"The Death Star will be in firing range in fifteen minutes."

Tarkin folded his arms even tighter across his chest and stared coldly out at the pastoral green and white globe that revolved helplessly in space before him. Time was still his enemy, but even it would bend to his will soon enough.

**************************************************

The rest of the universe had disappeared - past, present, and future. For Jax Bronson, all that mattered was the path laid out before him - one hundred thousand meters of high-walled trench separating him from the two-meter wide thermal exhaust port that was his target. His X-Wing's targeting computer was locked on, gradually ticking down the distance until he was within range to strike. With each passing meter, Jax felt his focus narrow even further, locking in on his endpoint with deliberate intensity. The next few minutes of his life, to say nothing of the lives of over a billion residents of Alderaan, were going to come down to a single shot which he would have to make traveling at several thousand kilometers per hour. While the targeting computer could help him, the most important factor in both lining up the shot and in choosing the moment to fire would come down to his own unaided natural instinct. For the briefest flash he wondered what it would be like if he could tap into the power which had, years ago, been used by the Jedi - what his chances would be if he had the Force to guide him. However, he quickly dismissed the notion. He was not Force-sensitive - no mystical voice was going to whisper out of the ether how to tap into some great and mysterious power. Instead, he would need all his skill - and just a little bit of luck.

In spite of his determined focus, Jax's thoughts involuntarily settled for a moment upon Alderaan, and the fate that awaited the innocent people on its surface should he fail. Despite the clear and overbearing threat presented by the Death Star, the surface of the planet seemed to Jax to be far too still. Why in the Nine Corellian Hells had the government not begun evacuating its citizens by now? Was it bureaucratic incompetence or simply irrational, widespread fear? Did they not truly understand the danger that they were in? He wished he could reach out to them somehow, to warn them that they needed to act now or all would be lost. But he couldn't - he had to focus on what small part of the future he could control, and hope that others would know in their hearts to do the same.

A rapid beeping sound from his console tore him away from his inner speculation. A thick wave of red dots had invaded his display, each one representing a single craft from the large wing of TIE Fighters which was bearing down upon him. As he watched, more and more indicators began to glow, slowly filling the lower half of his display with red. As it drew closer, Jax had a sudden, ominous premonition of an hourglass slowly filling with blood ticking down the time he had left. An involuntary chill ran down his spine.

"We've got company!" Solo shouted over the channel, and for the first time Jax detected an audible hint of fear in the young man's voice. "Look sharp!"

Jax's eyes flashed back to his targeting computer. Eighty thousand meters to firing range. It would take him at least a few more minutes to reach his target. His fingers rested hesitantly over the throttle. With his damaged engines, he was traveling as close as he dared to top speed already - any more pressure and his risked rupturing his coolant lines and becoming a fireball. But every second was precious, and allowing enough of them to slip by could mean the difference between victory and annihilation.

He pushed the lever a few more degrees forward, and his craft jolted forward. Even such a small increase in acceleration prompted Jax's engines to moan in protest. Jax did his best to ignore the sound and concentrated once more on his target. Seventy-five thousand meters away. He spared a glance at the display. The wave of red was now almost directly on top of him, a fact that was confirmed by the massive hail of laserfire which suddenly besieged his X-Wing from every direction.

"Here they come!"

No less than fifty TIE Fighters appeared overhead, the howling of their engines merging together to form a tremendous shriek which Jax perceived even across the silent vacuum of space. He gritted his teeth and bent low over the controls, trying to keep his focus on his targeting computer. Seventy thousand ...

"Hutt's breath, they're everywhere!" Solo muttered over the channel. "Chewie, divert power to our aft shields. Lando, you better be working overtime up there ..."

"You don't need to tell me that; I know that my ..."

An explosion rocked the _Falcon_, and the channel was consumed by a sudden hiss of static.

"Solo!" Jax exclaimed "Solo! You all right?"

"Yeah ..." the young pilot's voice filtered through, broken up by interference. "Took a direct hit, but Chewie got the shields up in time. The bird's fine - she's sturdier than she looks ..."

"Maybe so, but I don't think she can take many more hits like that one," Jax cautioned him. "You've got to stay low, keep moving ..."

A second explosion rocked the side of the trench, spraying flaming hot debris across Jax's path. Jax bounced up to avoid the burning metal fragments. In the corner of his display, he saw that a small group of TIEs had detached itself from the massive wing pursuing them and was accelerating to direct engagement range. They were closing fast, fully intent on wiping out the opportunistic Rebels were foolish enough to make an unsupported run on their battle station. But while Jax had Solo to cover his tail, Solo had no one to cover his ... and the Imperials knew it.

"Come on!" he urged tensely. They had no choice but to press on as fast as they could. "We're almost there!"

Fifty thousand meters to go. It would not take long for them to cover that distance, but even the relatively short duration remaining was more than enough time for the Imperials to vaporize both of them if they did not remain completely focused. And they still had no idea how long it would be before the Death Star was in range to fire ...

Jax felt a bead of sweat run down his forehead past his left eye. No experience in his life could ever have prepared him for this sort of pressure. He would either emerge hardened by fire ... or he would break.

_Forty-five thousand..._

His display flashed. He spared a glance down and saw that the Falcon had taken out two of the pursuing TIE Fighters with its turret guns. The surviving six TIEs responded with a withering barrage that caused the ancient freighter to shudder ominously. The old freighter's gunner kept up a steady stream of retaliation, but the Imperials smoothly dodged the blasts and kept up the pressure. The lead Imperial craft in particular seemed to be particularly adept at evading the returning strikes, slipping through the narrowest gaps with seeming ease.

Seeing a TIE Fighter moving so deftly, far surpassing even its normal high maneuvering capability, caused an involuntary chill to settle in Jax's stomach. His suspicions momentarily overriding his most ingrained instincts, he glanced back over his shoulder. The chill immediately intensified into a full-borne blast of ice. The curved-winged, blood-striped TIE had returned.

Jax opened his mouth, fully intending to warn Solo about the pressing danger presented by this old adversary. His finger on the comm switch, he stopped. The Falcon and its crew were stretched to the limit trying to defend themselves at the same time they were shielding him. It made little difference who was trying to kill them; what mattered was that they had the focus to channel all their energy into staying alive.

_Forty thousand ..._

The _Falcon_'s guns found another TIE, and the Imperial craft vanished in a storm of sparks. The remaining pilots scattered to avoid the explosion, then effortlessly reformed on their leader's wing. Their bombardment kicked up another notch.

"Solo, watch out!"

"I see them, Bronson!" Han shouted. "Worry about yourself!"

Jax bit back on a retort, instead trying to coax even more speed out of his craft with little results. Arfour moaned, trying to draw Jax's attention to a dismal report about the deteriorating condition of his own engines. The young pilot shut him out. Jax eyed the blood-striped TIE on his display, wishing with all his might that there was some way he could strike back, but there was nothing he could do ... nothing at all.

_Thirty thousand ..._

A laser strike slammed into the X-Wing's cockpit. Jax glanced back over his shoulder to see if one of the new arrivals had managed to get a shot past Solo's guard. A second later, however, he realized that the shot had come from above. Another squadron of TIEs was tracking them along the trench, taking potshots from overhead. Several more streaks of hot plasma rained down on the Falcon, weakening its faltering defenses still further.

On tortured impulse, Jax reactivated his comlink. "Solo, you're getting hammered. Get up front. Let me take their fire for a while."

"Like hell you will!" Solo snapped. "This damned crazy scheme was your mission, your idea! You're the one who has to take the shot!"

"I will take it. We'll switch back in a minute. But if you don't get some relief, you won't be there to see it!"

"We're fine!" Han retorted angrily. "Do me a favor and shut up, will ya?"

Jax gnashed his teeth together. He hated this. He had taken responsibility for Solo's life when he had coerced the young man into running cover for him, and now he was losing him, just like he had lost so many of his squadron mates. With each hit, the Falcon and its crew were cutting down their own chances for survival so that Jax could focus on the big picture, but try as he might, all the obvious rationale for the balance of one life against millions could not seem to keep his focus on the all-important moment that was rushing furiously up to meet him. It was a sacrifice he was not sure, even now, that he could make. If he did not find a way to overcome the guilt and uncertainty that were tearing him apart even now, then all of those lives - Solo, the Alderaanians, his fellow squadron mates - would be reduced to nothing.

Another explosion caused an eruption of feedback, momentarily cutting off Solo's channel. The icon representing the _Falcon_ on Jax's display did not vanish, but it did blink red, showing that the freighter was under heavy stress. Its aft shields were gone.

_Twenty thousand ..._

Jax kept his eyes on the model simulation of the trench, willing himself to remain steady. With aft shields down, the Falcon could take maybe two or three more hits before it imploded completely. Solo, in all his rebelliousness, self-assuredness, and hard-grained survival instinct - struck Jax profoundly, even in the blistering anticipation of the moment and the encounter he was racing toward. He realized, in a remarkable flash of kinship and understanding, just how alike the two of them really were - just how truly young he was. He had been forced to grow up fast when his family had been killed, but he had never fully grasped just what it meant for him to take the lead in his own life. Even after the death of his parents, he had been blessed to have father-like figures step in and take him under their wing - to teach him, to shelter him, to die for him. Commander Calton, Captain Antilles, and so many others had been instrumental in helping him make it this far, but they could do nothing else for him. Now was truly the moment for him to come into his own - as a pilot, as a leader, and as a member of the Alliance. In that moment, the icy surge of resolution and acceptance cascaded through his veins. He knew what he needed to do.

Jax reactivated his channel, his voice frighteningly calm. "Captain Solo, follow my wing. We're pulling up."

"What?" The shock radiated through Solo's voice like a flash of lightning. "What the hell is wrong with you? We come this far on your orders to save your friends, and now you want to cut and run? What kind of coward ..."

"We're not running," Jax told him. "We need more room to maneuver - we're not going to make it if we keep following this course. Trust me on this, Captain - pull up."

Solo fell silent, hesitating. In that short moment, yet another blast shook the _Falcon_, tearing a ragged hole in the hull. The freighter's status icon on Jax's HUD display was now flashing repeatedly, indicating severe, possibly critical damage. It had maybe seconds left. As he watched Solo struggle to control his crumbling freighter and prevent it from succumbing to a fiery demise, Jax's mind slowed to a crawl. Commander Calton rose up before him, stepping in front of laser blasts that would have killed his young subordinate. Captain Antilles, clinging thinly to life, lunged forward, meeting the TIEs head on. Both had protected him ... both had died. And now Solo, who had been drawn into this deadly, decisive exchange by nothing more than chance, was determinedly refusing to leave Jax's side, even if it cost him and his crewmates their lives.

Ten thousand meters away. Jax began to rise, tearing his eyes away from the targeting computer and focusing with all his will on the rapidly fading dot on his screen representing the Falcon. _Come on, damn it ... no one else is going to die for me!_

Finally, grudgingly, Solo responded. The _Falcon_ nosed upward, clearing the trench and rising towards the stars. It did not split for space but seemed to continue on-line, staying level with Jax's angle of ascension. The TIEs following them quickly altered course for pursuit, pulling away from the trench. The other TIEs tracking them from above, quickly moved down, seeking to box its seemingly beaten prey in for the kill. They were taking the bait.

Solo's voice was tight and cold. "Now what?"

Jax set his mouth in a grim line. "Now, I finish this."

"Now you ... wait, no!" Solo exclaimed. "No, you don't ..."

"You've done everything I could have asked of you, Solo," Jax said, his calm and unwavering voice belying the turmoil which was tearing at his heart. "But this is as far as I can let you go. I'm sorry."

Before Solo could even blink, Jax jammed the control stick back down, plummeting back into the trench, and opened the throttle as far as it would go. The X-Wing's engine status indicators immediately darkened to a bloody, flashing red. Arfour screamed in distress as the drive systems began to overload and the heat of the connection seared his circuits. Jax felt a rush of pity for the little droid, who surely knew what was about to happen, but he did not let up.

The Imperials' shock at his sudden about-face did not last long. Every TIE in the vicinity, led by their blood-striped leader, immediately converged on him again, racing after the now lone Rebel pilot with a renewed sense of vengeance and, quite possibly, fear. The starfighter's engines were overheating, and his own fragile shields were now approaching the point of collapse. Solo was screaming something into his earpiece - Jax shut it out. He had to get into position to take the shot before it was too late.

The blood-striped TIE leading the attack wing behind him had locked onto him, its powerful laser cannons ruthlessly tearing away the last tattered remnants of the X-Wing's defenses. The cockpit became unbearably hot as the metal cage surrounding him began to melt, and Jax knew that he was fading fast. Emergency alarms blared in the tightly confined space and warning messages overrode the X-wing's HUD screen, urging him to eject immediately. Jax's finger's rested over the evac button, but he did not press it. He would not press it until the end. There was no point - he was already dead.

One thousand meters away. The end of the channel loomed into view. The targeting computer flashed, then the graphics representing the trench converged to a single point.

_Zero_.

Jax was steady. His eyes narrowed, honing in with absolute precision on the two-meter-wide port before them. In the depths of his eyes there was no doubt, no hesitation, no sense of fear. He had become a vessel of fate - it was all out of his hands.

He took a deep breath, then fired.

The instant Jax let his torpedoes go, the blood-striped TIE Fighter unloaded on his X-Wing with maximum firepower. Without warning Jax was slammed forward, his X-Wing hurtling mercilessly out of control. Arfour screamed in distress, a scream that was cut short as flames engulfed the X-Wing's cockpit, melting the durasteel girders protecting its pilot. Agony boiled up in Jax's body like a volcano, far too great to be controlled or ignored. His consciousness broke, and he was spiraling out into space, his body engulfed by fire, riding the unstoppable tide of light into oblivion.

**************************************************

"Bronson!" Han yelled desperately. "BRONSON!"

There was no response. The channel connected to the rebel X-Wing hissed ominously with empty static. Then, without any warning, it cut out, leaving dead silence in its wake.

On board the _Millennium Falcon_, shock permeated the air. Han stared blankly ahead, the sudden, crushing weight of what had just happened descending upon him like a ton of durasteel bricks. Once again, he saw Jax guide his burning craft back into the Death Star's trench, hotly pursued by the blood-striped TIEs. He saw him unleash two proton torpedoes, which streaked down the trench, honing in with incalculable precision at their unseen target. He saw the Empire's servants retaliate with their own payload, a second too late to prevent the attack, but more than enough to exact their vengeance He saw the lasers hit home, and Jax's battered X-Wing's disappear in an instantaneous storm of fire. Then, as suddenly as they had arisen, the flames disappeared, leaving nothing behind. Lieutenant Jax Bronson was gone.

Han looked over at Chewie and saw that the Wookiee was just as shocked as he was. Han drew in a breath, struggling to muster the strength to speak - neither his brain nor his body seemed to want to comply. Eventually, however, he managed to force out a few strangled words. They were not however, the words that he had expected himself to say.

"Did you see what happened with the shot?"

"He got it off," Lando replied, his voice sounding strangely distant and strained. "I was distracted, obviously, but ... it looked good."

It certainly had ... and they hadn't yet witnessed any detonation which would have signaled a failed attempt. If Jax had actually managed to hit the exhaust port, then that meant the two proton torpedoes were now on their way down the thermal shaft towards the Death Star's immense reactor core. That meant that his sacrifice had not been in vain. It meant that the _Falcon_ was skimming the surface of a station which was only a few minutes away from doing a suitable impression of a supernova.

"Han ..." Lando said bracingly, "I think it's time we got the hell out of here."

Lando was right ... their battle was over. Jax was gone, and they were alone, speeding along just above the Death Star's equatorial trench, surrounded on all sides by TIE Fighters and nestled up against what was now in all likelihood a ticking time bomb. They had given their all, but there was nothing more they could do now, for Jax, for Alderaan, or for the Alliance. It was all out of their hands. Now, it was time for them to save their own lives.

Somehow, however, Han found himself inexplicably paralyzed. It had only been seconds since he had witnessed the attack; his mind remained frozen and his heart was heavy and sick with despair. In such a state, he could not be expected to reason clearly; in fact, it was a near certainty that his senses were playing him for a fool. After all, he had seen Jax's X-wing break apart under relentless fire, and he had seen the blood-striped TIEs pursuing him peel off, certain that their target had been dispatched. All visual evidence convincingly told him that Jax Bronson had been destroyed.

Yet still, the young Corellian renegade remained stubbornly and resolutely unconvinced. What if Jax had managed to get out? What if he had survived? The Rebel had saved all of their lives - and Han, against every rational instinct of self-preservation, had stuck with him until now. Could he really reverse course now, embrace rationality, and leave his comrade behind to die?

It was if his mind and body had been possessed, and he was either unable or unwilling to fight for control. As much as his rational mind screamed at him that it was all an illusion brought on by shock, anger, and despair, he couldn't overcome his certainty. He couldn't let his last hope go.

Han's eyes snapped open, burning with fury. His hands gripped the controls so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You know what? It ain't over until it's over ... and it ain't over yet.

"Chewie," he announced, "Scan all emergency frequencies for distress signals. I have to be sure."

"Han, are you crazy?" Lando bellowed, as Chewbacca obediently activated the sensors. "Did you even see what just happened? There's no way he could have survived!"

"You don't know that, Lando!" Han shot back. The sheer level of vehemence in his tone surprised him. "What do you want to do? He just saved all of our lives ... I'm not leaving until I'm damn sure that there's nothing more we can do!"

Chewbacca's urgent growl cut off Lando's response. Han's head snapped to the display board and his heart leapt: on the center of their radar screen a few kilometers ahead, a blue icon was drifting aimlessly through space, sending out a faint but discernable pulse. It was far too small to be a starfighter - it could only be ...

Han's mind suddenly surged to life. "Chewie, cut the sublights and divert power to our lateral thrusters. Lando, get out of that gun turret and into a vac suit. Open the top hatch. We're going in."

"Han ..." Lando's voice was almost pleading now. "We'll never get close enough. If he's even still alive, you'll fry him!"

"If we don't try, he's dead anyway!" Han retorted. "Just do it!"

Cutting off the channel, Han narrowed his eyes, honing in with hawk-like precision upon the tiny dot now only a few hundred meters away. His arms shook as he fought his instincts to move in at full speed. Confident though he was in his flying abilities, this kind of maneuver would require another kind of precision all together. There was absolutely no margin for error.

Chewbacca suddenly growled in alarm. Imperials fighters, possibly the very same ones which had destroyed Jax's fighter, were closing in.

Han swore silently, but he refused to look at the monitor to see how much time they had. What they were attempting to do already bordered on impossible - he couldn't afford to worry about any other complications. He had only one chance, and a single misstep could doom them all.

They were meters away now - the two dots on the radar screen were so close they had merged into one. Han seized the lateral thrusters with both hands and began to direct them upwards at an agonizingly slow pace. Several green jets of light flew past the unshielded cockpit - the Imperials' opening salvo. Han closed his eyes and willed himself not to panic ...

"The hatch is open," Lando's voice unexpectedly drifted to his ears over the channel. There was no audible hint of resentment now - only fear and determination. "I see him. Just a few more meters ..."

Hoping, praying, Han pushed the thrusters another millimeter forward. A bead of sweat that had nothing to do with the effort he was exerting trickled down his forehead and past his eye. His heart was hammering so hard against his chest he could feel his entire body shaking. He felt completely powerless, without any means of control ... except, perhaps, through the hand of destiny.

Just as the tension reached its breaking point, he heard it: a resounding clash of metal that echoed jarringly throughout the entire ship.

"I got him, Han!" Lando shouted over the intercom. "Go!"

*********************************************

"The Death Star will be in range in one minute."

Moff Tarkin willed himself to maintain his steely outwardly calm. His heart was pounding, throbbing so hard that with every beat he thought it might leap out of his emaciated chest. His palms and forehead were slick with sweat. His very muscles were quivering inwardly with anticipation. His body was betraying him, yet his expression did not lose its mask of cold calculation, and neither did his soul. He stood stock-still, paralyzed by the enormity of this moment, a moment that would mark the beginning of his supreme reign with deaths of a billion needless pawns.

For, truly, what better way was there for him to assert his omnipotence in this galaxy than by willingly destroying that which made it significant - namely, life itself? For eons life in this galaxy had tossed itself about in a chaotic uproar of disorder, alternately thriving and crashing, often at the same time. It had no pattern, no determinate goal, because there had been no all-powerful central authority to tame it. Now, however, life could at last be prevailed upon to serve some greater purpose - by living in fear of destruction. He, Tarkin, could now be that force which the galaxy had been waiting.

He could fully understand now how Palpatine had felt in his final days. The Emperor, however, had failed to protect his mastery. He had allowed himself to become distracted with the mystical ways of the so-called Force, and in doing so he had brought about his own destruction by the hands of Darth Vader, the weapon he had so callously fashioned and never foreseen that he might be turned against him. Tarkin would not make that mistake.

They were mere seconds away now, so close that the taste of overwhelming victory saturated the air around him ...

"The Death Star is in range. We have achieved target lock. Counting down ..."

Tarkin let out a measured breath. He set his jaw. His eyes gleamed with triumph and his heartbeat rose ...

"Five seconds ... four ... three ..."

And then the world turned white.

*********************************************

Back in the cockpit, Han didn't need to be told twice. He slammed his right hand down on the throttle, pushing it for all it was worth. The _Falcon_ lurched forward, shuddering ominously under the sudden force of acceleration. Han grit his teeth; he had lost track of time, and his heart was burning with fear. Their whole maneuver had taken no more than a few seconds at most, yet those few seconds might have been all the time that they had.

The _Falcon_ shook as the Imperials found their range and their laser cannons began to pound on the ancient ship's scarred and welded hull. Whatever shield power they had managed to regenerate since the last attack was drawn down in an instant, leaving them completely open to attack. Han did even notice. His attention had been diverted, consumed by the incredible sight which was unfolding just beyond the transparisteel viewport.

The Death Star, which only moments ago had filled his entire range of vision, had been obscured by a wall of brilliant light. As Han's eyes strained to adjust the torrent, the light suddenly condensed, blossoming out into a colossal fireball several thousand kilometers wide. The raging inferno raced after them at a terrifying speed, consuming everything in its path.

Han tore his eyes away from the incredible sight and threw all his weight against the throttle. "Chewie, let her rip!"

In the co-pilot's seat, the Wookiee began frantically flipping every switch he could reach, shunting all available power to the engines. The _Falcon_ screamed through space, passing indecipherable objects, from TIE Fighters to debris, on all sides as it tried to outrace the merciless wave of death which was gaining on it from behind. Flames danced around the seals of Falcon's viewport, melting rubber and durasteel as they sought a weakness, an opening ...

_We're not going to make it_, Han's mind shouted feverishly at him. _We were way too close to that thing when it blew. We're not going to make it ..._

The young pilot locked the voice out. He kept his eyes focused resolutely ahead, refusing to think about anything but the stretch before him, He did not allow himself to think about the _Falcon_, wracked by flames, shaking so badly that she might come apart at any moment. He did not allow himself to think about the fire, pursuing them at impossible speeds like a vengeful spirit of chaos. He did not allow himself to acknowledge his doubts, less they become a bitter certainty.

The heat of the incendiary torrent reached its peak, and the light became blinding. The wave had caught up with them. Han instinctively shielded his eyes, braced himself for the touch of fire to his skin, knowing all the while that it would do no good. His string had played out; the next breath he took would surely be his last ...

Without any warning, the tremors ceased. The light faded away. The _Falcon_ leveled out, and the shuttering, rattling, and groaning which had surrounded them for several terrifying seconds faded away. As the young Corellian glanced anxiously out of the side viewport, he saw that the flames which had been pursuing them were shrinking back, condensing into a single point and slowly fading away. The Death Star was gone, and several thousand kilometers ahead, Alderaan hung peacefully in space, unscathed, glimmering like a polished green jewel. The clouds covering its pristine surface were passively reflecting the remnants of the explosion, an incandescent array of colors and flame which framed the system like a newborn star.

"YES!"

Han jumped out his seat, punching the air, and let out an unrestrained whoop. In the seat next to him, Chewbacca threw back his head and roared triumphantly, his fearsome face alight with exaltation. The two unlikely comrades turned and swept each other up in a jubilant embrace - an embrace Han immediately regretted as his ribs cracked under the force of the Wookiee's hug. A noise halfway between a shout and a groan escaped his lips, and Chewbacca, recognizing the implication behind it, mercifully let go.

Han, ignoring his newly aching chest, fell back in the pilot's chair of the _Millennium Falcon_, shaking his head in disbelief. Words failed him; whatever had just happened, it could not be described. It was completely unreal. A few short hours ago he had been nobody, a seventeen year-old Corellian dropout of the Imperial Academy who was scamming and working as a mercenary for a living, scrounging the streets of Coruscant with nothing to his name but his wits and a DL-44 blaster pistol, plus a giant walking carpet and smooth-talking, flamboyantly-dressed gambler in tow. Now, here he was, minutes removed from having participated in one of the riskiest and most ill-advised stunts of all-time, an assault on the Galactic Empire's ultimate superweapon, the Death Star. Not only had he survived the assault, he and his friends had succeeded. The Imperials' supposedly invincible space station was history, nothing more substantial than a massive cloud of superheated atoms expanding throughout the system. Alderaan was safe. The Emperor's carefully constructed, ironclad plan for galactic domination had been undone; foiled by nothing more than few instinctive piloting skills and a couple of well-placed proton torpedoes. He, Lando, Chewie, and Jax ...

Han's euphoria suddenly evaporated. Jax was the real hero. The idealistic Rebel pilot was the only reason that they were all still here, the only reason that billions of Alderaanian citizens had been spared from their horrific fate. He, Han, had been perfectly willing to flee, to abandon the condemned world and its hopelessly outnumbered defenders to their fate. Jax had convinced him to stay. He had managed to sweep aside Han's cold rationalization of self-interest and awaken the fighting spirit underneath. He had given himself up to do what needed to be done. Now ...

Han bowed his head, his heart suddenly sick with remorse and the weight of a lifetime descending on his seventeen-year old shoulders. They risked everything to rescue Jax from the void, but now that they were out of the moment and their own lives were out of immediate danger, he was forced to confront the fact that all of their efforts might have been in vain. All of Han's convictions did not change the fact that Jax might have been dead long before they had gotten to him. He had barely managed to escape from his exploding starfighter, and he had spent several minutes exposed to the frigid, raw vacuum of space, protected by nothing more than a flimsy environmental suit. There was a very real chance that their daring rescue had accomplished nothing, and that when Han found the courage to venture back into the _Falcon_'s main cabin, he would find nothing more than a body.

Chewbacca's own somber face reflected an understanding of Han's distress. The great Wookiee reached out and placed a heavy paw on his charge's shoulder, offering a soft grunt of encouragement. You made a very brave choice back there, Han. Whatever the ultimate result, you owe it to yourself to see this through.

The sage words pierced through Han's anxiety and compelled him to look up into the Wookiee's sharp black eyes. A weak smile rose onto his face and, taking a deep breath, he nodded. Then, he forced himself to his feet and walked apprehensively towards the main cabin, steeling himself for whatever he might find.

Lando, the mask of his vac suit pushed back, was kneeling on the floor, a crumpled helmet and open medkit at his feet. On the bench in front of him lay a body, wrapped in a blood-red emergency blanket and lying perfectly still. Hearing Han's approaching footsteps, Lando looked up. His usually devilish and carefree face held no hint of merriment or good will; it was drawn in a somber mask of concentration.

Han mustered his strength and found his voice. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know," the gambler replied faintly. "If he does have a pulse, it's extremely weak, because I can't feel it. He's burned ... real bad. Probably got broken bones, too, and who knows what kind of internal damage. But when I set him down, I thought I saw him move. There might be a chance ..."

Han took another half-step forward. "Is there anything we can do?"

"There's epinephrine here." Lando held up a medkit needle full of clear liquid. "An injection could start his heart, but I'm no medic. In his state, it might kill him."

Han stepped forward beside Lando and stared down at the still form of the Rebel pilot. His stricken heart ached with concern, and he noticed his eyes were growing hot. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have felt embarrassed about such an unrestrained burst of emotion, but he found he had no strength or desire to conceal it. After the ordeal that he and Jax had just been through, he felt like he was losing a brother, one he had known all his life. In fact, he had never actually laid eyes on Jax before this moment.

Yet even if he had, Han realized, he would not have recognized him now.

Jax's face was a gruesome mass of burns and scar tissue. His features, which might at one point have been considered handsome, could now barely be identified as human. His form was crumpled beneath the blanket, twisted and diminished with what undoubtedly amounted to a hideous array of injuries. What little skin was visible was charred and streaked with what looked like frozen trails of blood. Despite the devastation, it was still possible to distinguish a few rudimentary characteristics; Jax appeared to be only a few years older than Han himself. The young Corellian felt a strange but irrefutable sense of kinship as he gazed down at the scarred and broken body of the Alliance Lieutenant.

"How soon could we get him to a bacta tank?"

"Not soon enough. If he's not dead now, he will be in the next few minutes. He's slipping away as we speak."

Han nodded. "Then we don't have a choice. Give him the shot."

Lando looked directly into Han's face. "You sure?"

Han closed his eyes and tilted his head back. No, he wasn't sure at all. He had never been less sure of anything in his life. However Lando, as always, had made the stakes at hand perfectly clear. If they gave him the shot, there was a good chance Jax might die; if they didn't, his death was all but certain. Now was not the time for inaction.

"Yes."

Lando nodded in acceptance. As gingerly as he could, he pulled away the blanket and raised the needle to the outline of Jax's jugular vein. He took one deep breath to steady himself, and then pushed it in.

Han studied Jax's face intently, waiting, hoping, for any sign that their desperate plan had worked. But there was no instantaneous response. Five, ten, fifteen seconds ... nothing. Jax's eyes remained closed, and his body remained still and cold as ice.

Lando's head fell, and he rose to his feet, avoiding his friend's eyes. Han bit hard on his tongue, fighting back a crushing wave of disappointment.

"We did all we could," Lando said quietly. "We did all we could."

Yes, they had, Han thought sadly, but in the end that didn't matter. They had nothing to show for their efforts. They were too late.

The two friends turned away, preparing to head back to the cockpit. As they were about to step through the doors, something reached them and made them freeze: a slow, agonized gasp.

Han spun around, feeling as though someone had just punched him hard in the chest. On the bench before them, Jax's body was stirring, the partially crushed chest rising and falling in a fitful yet steady rhythm. Han and Lando exchanged disbelieving looks, then simultaneously dove back to the broken pilot's side. Jax's eyes remained closed, but the exposed vein on his neck was pulsing visibly; a renewed sign of life.

Jax's eyes flickered open, his dilated pupils rapidly contracting in the cabin light. He didn't seem to be able to focus, but the sudden flash of surprise told Han and Lando that he was able to distinguish their shadowy forms leaning anxiously over him. His disfigured face contorted noticeably, possibly in confusion, or fear.

"Jax Bronson," Han asked, enunciating as clearly and painstakingly as he could. Given how anxious he was, his voice held remarkably steady. "Can you hear me?"

Jax's neck strained visibly as he tried to force his damaged throat and jaw to carry his words. Finally, a harsh, yet recognizable sound emerged from his lips. "Y...yes."

Han and Lando exchanged a brief glance of relief. Catastrophically injured though their comrade might be, being able to speak had to be taken as a good sign. Hurriedly, they leaned in close to catch Jax's next words.

"W...who are y...you?"

"Han Solo and Lando Calrissian," Han responded. "You're on board the _Millennium Falcon_. You're safe now, but you need serious medical attention. I need you to stay with me."

"S...Solo?" Jax's scarred brow furrowed noticeably in confused recognition. "I...I'm not dead?"

"No." In spite of the gravity of the situation, Han felt an earnest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Don't ask me how, but you did it. You did it all. The Death Star's space dust, and Alderaan and all your friends are safe."

"The D...Death Star's g…gone?" Jax gasped weakly, sounding faintly incredulous. "T...the shot was good?"

"Yeah, it was," Han replied, grinning. "And then somehow you survived getting spaced long enough for us to pick you up and fly you out of there before the whole thing went supernova. I've got to hand it to you, Jax ... you are, without a doubt, the luckiest son of a gun I've ever met. The odds on all that have to be something like a billion to one."

Jax's eyes flickered shut, a sudden wave of pain or weakness racking his brutally ravaged body. Despite the injection of the adrenal stimulant, he appeared to be slipping back into unconsciousness. As he laid his head back down, however, the young Corellian's burned, scarred, and agonized face unexpectedly came together in a recognizable smile.

"Hey S...Solo ..." he stammered weakly, "_Never_ tell me the odds."

****************************************

**Next Chapter:** _The view from Coruscant and across the galaxy as the Galactic Civil War draws to a close._

It will focus primarily on resolving those storylines which are still outstanding. We will find out the fates of Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Sabe, Mace, Yoda, and all the rest soon.

One more thing; as a reward to all my faithful readers, who have stuck with this story through thick and thin, long struggles and unreasonable delays, I will be writing a "missing moment" scene which I was not originally planning to include in the story. I haven't yet decided whether it will be posted here or sent out by PM request, so I'll let you know more as things move forward. I don't want to give too much away; however, I will say that it involves our major characters and addressing a very important topic, about which many of you have talked about in your responses to the later chapters.


	67. Freedom Reborn

Welcome to 2009!

Abounding with hope and ready to get the new year started in style, we have a new chapter to post in our increasingly-long winded epic, The Shadow of Vader. The end is so close now, we can all taste it; after this, there are only two more official chapters to go (see author's note at the end of this chapter). I go back to school on January 5, but now that we have wrapped up most of the subplots, it is my fervent hope that I will able to efficiently wrap things up in a satisfyingly emotional conclusion.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of you who have read and responded following the long layoff. It means a great deal to me that so many of you have remained loyal readers despite the pitfalls we have encountered. Once again, a very Happy New Year to you all! hugs

**************************************************

**Chapter 67**

Above Coruscant, the Shining Light of the Galaxy, hope was giving way to darkness. The _Fool's Dream_ was dying, and with it, any lingering chance the Alliance still possessed of victory. Having been drawn far out of position, the great ship hung alone in between the lines of warring Rebel and Imperial cruisers, an arrow without a shaft, a defiant warrior with no army to answer her rallying cry.

The entire allied fleet was in dire and desperate condition. Fully half of its ships had been disabled or destroyed, and the rest were in pressing danger of following them soon. Trapped in-system against the gravity well of the city-planet and fully half of the Imperial Navy, they had no hope of fleeing the system, and surrender was out of the question. Deprived of any other option, the Rebels continued to fight bravely on, giving everything they could to their enemies until one by one their hulls were breached and their guns fell silent.

Every ship on the Imperial front line was now targeting the Rebels' flagship, confidently assured that once the standard-bearer fell, the spirits of their foes would finally be broken. Every single vessel which had attempted to come to its aid had been met with overwhelming successive waves of turbolaser fire until it had either retreated or else been reduced to atoms. The _Fool's Dream_ itself, meanwhile, continued to relentlessly pursue each and every challenge with a will, driven ever forward by its captain's inexorable lead.

Ever since he had learned of Palpatine's twisted plan for Alderaan, Bail Organa had been consumed by an irrational, rage-driven fire. He had directed his capital ship to throw itself into battle after battle with reckless abandon. Though larger and better armed, the Star Destroyers opposite them had been unprepared for such unchecked fury. The _Fool's Dream_ had destroyed two of the massive Imperial craft single-handedly, along with numerous smaller ones. They were now very close to overwhelming the shields on a third.

Their furious offensive, however, had come at a cost. The _Fool's Dream_'s shields were now depleted to critical levels, and their hull was taking severe structural damage. They would not last more than a few more minutes in the line of fire, yet Bail had refused to order the ship to pull back. He remained a man possessed, determined to hurt the Empire as much as he could in order to distract himself from the impending moment of judgment ... until he could avoid the crushing weight of despair no longer.

"Sir!"

Bail tore his vengeful eyes from the pitched battle raging outside his forward viewport, rounding to face the communications officer whose call had distracted him from his immediate task. "What, Lieutenant?"

The young man's pale face was laden with frightened anticipation. "Sir, we're receiving an urgent message from General Kota at Alderaan."

Bail's heart clenched painfully, and it took all of his considerable willpower not to collapse in grief. It was as he had feared. He was about to receive the news that would completely break his spirit, the news that the Death Star had destroyed his beloved Alderaan, and with it everything that he held most dear to his heart.

_Breha ... my wife ... my love ..._

He would no longer be able to see her smile, or hear her laugh, or feel the comforting warmth of her hand in his. The two of them had been together for many years, through the joys of their early years and the agony of two painful miscarriages. They had no child of their own - only the Skywalkers' daughter Leia, whom they had nevertheless loved dearly - but they had so hoped that one day, they might be blessed by a miracle. Now, they would never have that chance. Breha, along with the rest of his family and well over a billion Alderaanian citizens whom he had taken an oath to protect and serve were now gone, sacrificed to serve as an eternal memorial of the Emperor's cruelty.

His eyes stinging with the onset of rising tears, Bail somehow found the strength to speak. "What does it say?"

The communications officer listened intently for several seconds, seconds in which Bail Organa did not dare to move or even to breathe. Then the young officer turned his head once again to face the Senator, his eyes alight with exhilaration.

"Sir, General Kota is reporting that the Death Star has been destroyed! A few of our pilots discovered a weakness and figured out how to exploit it! Tarkin is dead, the surviving Imperials are running, and Alderaan is safe!"

Bail heard the joyful words as if they were coming to him out of a dream. All the tension and fear that had kept him rigid for the past agonizing minutes fled from his body, leaving suddenly weak and lightheaded. He staggered backwards and would have fallen over had not Sheltay quickly seized his arm and guided him to an empty command chair. The leader of the Alliance sat down and stared straight ahead, still not fully comprehending the true magnitude of such an incredible turn of events.

"That's not all, sir!" the communications officer continued excitedly. "We're receiving reports from the surface that our strike team and the Leader's forces have succeeded in breaking through to the Imperial Palace! Details from preliminary reconnaissance are still coming in, but it sounds like the clones are being subdued and the Emperor is dead!"

Palpatine ... dead. The capital ... liberated. Alderaan ... saved. It was all too much for Bail. For five years ... no, for much longer than that ... he and small dedicated group of loyalists had been working to undermine the corruption and evil which had taken root in the galaxy. The battle had been arduous and, at many points, hopeless. They had taken defeat after defeat after defeat, and lost many good friends along the way. Recognizing that it would not be long before the light of their cause itself was extinguished by the onrushing darkness headed by Vader and Palpatine, he, Padme, and the others had decided to risk everything - from their own lives to the future of the Alliance itself - on one last-ditch, desperate attack. And against all odds, against all the rules of rationality, it had worked. The ultimate threat of Palpatine's greatest weapon had been broken, and the long-standing shadow of tyranny had been driven away at last. They had done it.

Momentarily overcome by emotion, Bail buried his face in his hands. The looming specter of death and guilt would _not_ haunt him for the rest of his life. He, and all those who had fought alongside him, were going to be able to go back to their homeworlds and see their families again ...

Yet even as that joyful thought was formed, the grim reality of their immediate situation seeped back into Bail's mind. Despite the general sense of exaltation which had swept over members of the crew on the bridge at the news of the two distant triumphs, the mood was still much less subdued than he would have expected. A blaring alarm, signaling a breach of the hull somewhere in the ship, reminded him why. Despite the amazing victory that the Alliance had won in the war against the Empire, the battle at hand was all but lost. He and everyone around him were trapped on an imploding battle cruiser whose shields were about to give out. The Fool's Dream was surrounded on three sides by enemies and too far from any allied ships to receive support. Despite the chaotic and detrimental effect that the news of their Emperor's death was obviously having on the Imperial forces, the commanders of the ships opposite them clearly retained enough of their focus to ensure that all those aboard the dying Rebel craft would not live to savor their friends' triumph. And that wasn't all ...

"Sir, I'm picking up a massive wave of Imperial ships emerging from hyperspace - at least a hundred Star Destroyers, probably more! Looks like the Empire's reinforcements are finally coming in ... just in time to see us out."

Grim silence greeted this doom-sealing proclamation. The sudden reemergence of so many enemy capital ships could only mean one thing: when the tide of the battle had turned, the Emperor had recalled all the outlying fleet groups from the Outer Rim, leaving behind the frontier garrisons so as to make one last all-out effort to recapture his capital. When they had planned their operation, the Council had considered the implications to their chances of success should such an action actually occur, but they had deemed the risk worth taking. The reinforcements were enough not only for the Empire to rout the surviving Alliance vessels, but to snatch Coruscant back from its liberators as well. Even from beyond the grave, Palpatine had outmaneuvered them one last time.

The captain looked anxiously at Bail, his arms trembling only slightly. "Sir ... orders?"

Bail stood up and moved towards the forward viewport, where directly in his view the Star Destroyer Vengeance was bearing down upon them. He stared hard at the jagged prow of the enemy craft, with streaming lines of turbolaser fire aimed directly at them and, inexplicably, smiled.

"We've done everything we can," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off the Star Destroyer. "All of you ... everyone on this vessel and all our friends out there fighting beside us ... have their hearts and their deepest commitments to our cause, the cause of freedom. Thanks to you, we have achieved more than I could have ever dreamed, and given this galaxy a chance at redemption. Now I know ..." here he faltered, only for the slightest moment before continuing, "I know that this may not end as some of us hoped that it would, but it would be remiss of us to discount what we have gained in the face of our final sacrifice."

He turned to face the crew, Sheltay, and all those who he had served with during the battle. "It has been my honor to stand with you through this, our greatest trial. I offer my most profound thanks and my deepest regrets to you all. If any of you wish to take advantage of our remaining time together to head to the escape pods, I would urge you to do so now, and may the Force be with you."

Silence reigned amongst the officers on the bridge. They all continued to stare at Bail, some with sadness, a few with confusion, but most with pride. No one moved for the exits, or even glanced in that direction. After several awkward seconds, Sheltay moved up to stand next to Bail.

"I've been with you for many years, Senator Organa," she said softly. "And I think it's safe to say that through thick and thin, I've always had your back. Don't you think for even one minute that that's going to change now."

Her declaration was greeted by a rousing ascent from the crew. The captain took two sharp paces forward. "Should I have Shield Control shunt all remaining power to the front, sir?"

Wordlessly, Bail nodded. The captain saluted and spun back around to face the crew. "What do you say, men? Shall we give them hell for the Alliance one last time?"

An affirmative roar went up from those manning the stations, then all smartly resumed their duties. Sheltay raised her eyebrows approvingly at her charge and Bail, his eyes alight and a renewed look of determination on his face, turned back to the forward viewport, where the _Vengeance_ was rushing them at full speed.

"Well then, my friends," he said strongly, "Onward!"

**************************************************

On board the Imperial Star Destroyer _Reaper_, at the head of a massive fleet of warships, Captain Seti Roswall stood in his usual position on the bridge, overlooking the scene before him. His stance was about the only usual thing about this situation; in all his years of military service, both in the Republic and now the Empire, he had never encountered anything like this. Though he maintained his rigid command posture, he could never remember feeling so ill at ease before an engagement, even when Lord Vader himself had been standing only a few meters away, scrutinizing his every move with his death-like stare. No matter what happened here today, tomorrow would bring something else entirely. With Palpatine now dead, big changes were coming for the Empire ... and the rest of the galaxy as well.

The other officers on the bridge seemed to be only slightly less tense than he was; willing and ready to execute their duty, yes, but as uncertain as Roswell himself as to what purpose it would be. They were all waiting once again, waiting for their commander, and the final directive to engage the enemy.

The hiss of a pneumatic seal breaking drew Captain Roswall's attention away from the approaching battle. He turned and stood at attention and Vice Admiral Thrawn stepped out of the elevator and strode gracefully towards him. The Admiral stopped and inclined his head graciously towards the captain. "Are all systems ready?"

"Yes, sir," Roswall told him. "Have we received the final confirmation to proceed?"

"We have, Captain," Thrawn said evenly. "We shall move to execute momentarily."

"Sir ..." Roswall could not stop himself - as foolish as it was to make such an appeal to his superior officer, he felt that he had to know before he took such drastic action. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

Under ordinary circumstances, questioning a superior officer was grounds for immediate disciplinary action, but Thrawn, in so many ways, was far from ordinary. His blue skin darkened slightly and his red eyes narrowed as he pursued his lips in an almost thoughtful expression.

"No, Captain, I am not sure. The Rebels, to my best considerations, have not yet proved themselves deserving of such a fate, even under circumstances such as these. But I trust our Lord's judgment, and so we will proceed with the protocol, as he would have wished."

Roswall tightened his jaw and nodded stiffly. "Then should I open the channel and issue the ultimatum?"

Thrawn shook his head. "Thank you, Captain, but no - I will do it myself. I believe that it is only fitting, given my unique history of service, that I be the one to proceed with such a radically elegant final step."

The Chiss officer turned and smoothly strode back towards the communications station, leaving Captain Roswall standing alone at the front of the bridge once more. The Imperial was secretly glad that Admiral Thrawn had decided to take on the responsibility himself, as he did not relish the task. It was inherently distasteful to his nature, though, as Lord Vader had said so many times, it was necessary.

Roswall resumed his silent vigil, seeming to gaze intently out at the Rebel and Imperial vessels which were still dueling relentlessly above Coruscant's glistening surface. In actuality, he was barely registering what was happening right before his eyes. He was thinking about Darth Vader, the man who in so many ways had embodied the heart and blackened soul of the Empire. Vader, who, like his master, had now left them without any guidance ... save one.

Roswall had served under Vader for only two years, but during that time he had accompanied him on many missions to protect the interests of the Empire all across the galaxy. He felt that among his colleagues, he had known the Emperor's faceless enforcer better than most; indeed, he thought with some degree of bitterness, it was extraordinarily rare for an officer in his position to last more than a few months serving at Vader's disposal. The Dark Lord was a man possessed of an uncompromising purpose, an indestructible will, and a terrible, awe-inspiring wrath. Those who could not meet the exacting standard he demanded in the service of his all-consuming and intransigent vision of justice were coldly and remorselessly dispatched. No mistakes could be tolerated, no mercy could be shown. It was the ultimate test of competence in the face of oblivion, and Roswall, by surviving as long as he had, felt that in some way he garnered a degree of kinship with the Dark Lord of the Sith, in which he had taken an immense degree of pride.

However, as he stood now on the bridge overlooking the final battle, the Imperial captain was forced to acknowledge that he had never really known the man behind the armor at all. He, alongside untold trillions of other galactic residents, had no idea where Vader had originally come from, which forces had shaped him, and what impulse had sparked his terrible and brutally successful quest to bring the galaxy under his heel. The Sith Lord had been demanding, yet objective; cold, yet brilliant; ruthless, yet still in some way human. He was, and would now forever remain, an eternal mystery, an enigma that Roswall had never had time to fully consider, and one he had been too terrified to understand. All he knew, as an officer and a keeper of the galactic peace, was that for a time he had been privileged to experience and live in the presence of a true force of nature, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon who had single-handedly inspired both fear and respect from a galaxy that gave neither easily.

Now, as he looked back, Roswall could see that there were many lessons to be taken from the time he had lived in the presence of the Sith. Vader had left his mark upon him, just as he had left his mark upon so many others in the galaxy. What the true and lasting significance of that mark was, Roswall didn't know. He could not be sure that he ever truly would know. To be certain, he was not sure that he wanted to know. The truth, if he ever were to fully discover it, might break him.

Yet even as the golden age of Darth Vader's New Order drew to towards its close, even as the Shadow of Vader slowly withdrew from the hearts of all those who had known him, Roswall had no doubt that the Dark Lord's remarkable legacy would endure and live on, standing in history's sharp relief as both a memorial and a warning for many generations to come.

**************************************************

The shields had given out at last. The _Fool's Dream_ was on her last stand, her hull breached and burning in over a dozen different places as the Vengeance pounded her relentlessly into latent submission. The other Alliance ships had tried to reach her, but with the impending threat of the approaching Imperial reinforcements, there was nothing they could do. They had to look out for themselves, or else suffer the same fate.

On the ship bridge, alarms rang out in a nearly continuous drone, and were steadfastly ignored by all present. Bail Organa stood calmly at the forefront of his vessel, Sheltay standing faithfully at his side. The leader of the Alliance had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply, savoring every last drop of the sweetness that was filling his lungs. Soon, it would end. Soon, he would die, along with all the brave men and women aboard this vessel. And then ...

Who knew what would come then? Maybe nothing ... or maybe it was what he had hoped so fervently for many years - the chance for a new beginning. Whatever it was, Bail was ready for it. He had lived a long and fulfilling life, surrounded by happy memories and people he had loved. Many of those people would live on, including his wife, who had been spared from her own impending fate. She would be able to grow old on their beloved homeworld, perhaps with someone who could give her all the love and care she would need after he was gone. Leia, the little girl he had taken into his heart and cared for like a daughter, would live on too, perhaps with her parents and her twin brother. She would be able to reclaim the lost years and grow into a vibrant young woman who would make all around her proud ...

Another explosion rocked the ship, and a new alarm joined the chorus, signaling a critical failure of their engines. They were dead in space now, and the next barrage was sure to finish them off. A sense of peace stole over the Senator and he reached out with his mind.

_I love you, Breha. I always have ... and I always will._

Sheltay's hand found his, and Bail squeezed it silently. There was nothing further to say. It was their time, and they would not resist.

"Sir ... we're receiving an incoming hail from the leading vessel of the Imperial reinforcements, designated the _Reaper_. Shall we acknowledge?"

Bail opened his eyes and frowned, mildly disappointed that his final moments of solidarity had been disturbed. Frankly, he was surprised that the ship's communication's arrays were still functioning at all after the damage they had sustained. As he regained his senses, however, he received and even greater shock: the _Vengeance_ had stopped firing and was hanging in space like a disembodied arrow. Completely at a loss, Bail turned to face the communication's officer. "The Imperial reinforcements are hailing us?"

"Yes sir, but it's on a general frequency. I believe that every ship on the vicinity, on both sides, is receiving the same message."

Bail glanced at Sheltay, then at Maris Brood, both of whom looked just as uncertain as he was. They had already established that the fleet that had just emerged in-system was massive, more than enough to retake Coruscant after they had done away with the remaining stragglers. The idea that the Imperials would want to talk when they held such an overwhelming advantage was ... unprecedented. Did their enemies want to rage against them for the death of the Emperor? Mock them for their inability to outlive their victory? Had some upstart Admiral decided to make a play for Palpatine's now vacant throne?

Whatever the reason was, it was in their best interest to listen.

Bail let out a deep breath and nodded to the communications officer, who was waiting attentively. "Patch it through."

The communications officer nodded and turned back to the panel, flipping a switch to authorize reception of the transmission signal. Almost immediately, a smooth, cold voice permeated the air, and Bail felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, repressing an instinctive impulse to shiver. The voice was not cruel, nor did it carry a mocking edge, but it was harsh, authoritative, and somehow inhuman - he sensed deep in the pit of his stomach that this was a man that it would be exceedingly dangerous to cross. So taken in was he by the unknown speaker's town that he barely registered at first what was actually being said, but as the words continued to slip through his consciousness, he felt shock paralyze his limbs.

"Surviving members of the Alliance to Restore the Republic and the Galactic Empire," the voice said imperiously. "This is Vice Admiral Thrawn, commander of the Imperial Seventh through Twelfth Fleets. By order of the Lord Darth Vader, all combatant vessels in this system must stand down immediately. Commanding officers will compel their subordinates to disengage, power down their weapon systems, and await further instructions. Any Imperial divisions operating on the orders of the late Emperor Palpatine which refuse to comply with this directive will be designated as traitors to the Empire and marked for destruction. Any Alliance vessels which fail to comply with this same order will likewise be destroyed.

"For many years this galaxy has been divided by conflict and deep ideological strife, and much blood has been shed by both sides. The time has come, however, when we cannot continue on this path without jeopardizing the very ideals that we fight to uphold. It is Lord Vader's wish that this conflict be brought to an end so that leaders from both sides can begin to rebuild what has been lost and construct a just, balanced government worthy of the sacred trust offered up by the citizens of this galaxy. Anyone who in the pursuit of revenge or self-interest seeks to stand in the way of this opportunity for reconciliation shall be deemed a necessary sacrifice.

"We shall oversee the process of disarmament and the commencement of negotiations. This war must now end. We all must learn to set aside our differences and join together to establish the foundation for an enduring peace."

The channel hissed and went dead, Admiral Thrawn's cold, authoritative voice gradually fading away into nothingness. The crew of the Fool's Dream remained petrified, remaining just as still as they held themselves for the entire duration of the Imperial officer's proclamation, gazing at the now-silent communications monitor in an almost-dazed stupor. No one moved, spoke, or even breathed for several long moments. Then, without warning, the spell was broken. Bail and Sheltay turned to face one another and began to speak in hushed, rapid tones that carried a heavy degree of shock and awe.

"Did we just hear what I think we heard?"

"I think we did."

"Do you think it's a trick?"

"It's possible ... but why would they do something like this? If they want to press on with the war under a new Emperor, what better way than to wipe out the surviving Alliance hierarchy right now? They outnumber us at least three to one - there's nothing stopping them from blowing us to atoms and then sweeping in to reclaim Coruscant."

"Then ... I guess the only explanation is ..."

"They really do want peace."

Sheltay stepped away from Bail, edging to the side so that she could lean, albeit discretely, against the bulkhead. "Unbelievable. I never could have seen this coming ..."

"No one could."

"And Vader ..."

Bail shook his head, a wondrous, disbelieving expression rising to his face.

"Who would have ever thought that after everything that's happened, after all the people he's killed and all the terror he's unleashed, _Darth Vader_ would be the one to save us all?"

Sheltay rested her head back against the unforgiving metal wall. Her normally calm and composed features were transfixed with undisguised bafflement; she looked every bit as stunned as Bail felt. "I don't suppose it would too much to say that maybe he just had ... a change of heart?"

Even as she spoke, sounding hesitant and completely unsure, an idea vaulted to the forefront of Bail's mind. It was ludicrous to believe ... everything he had seen over the last five years - forget that, his entire life's experience - told him that such an explanation could not be true. Yet that thoroughly and entirely rational denial could not suppress the lingering sense of incredulous amazement that was building deep in his core.

Long ago amidst bitter tragedy, he had accepted that there were people who were so deeply immersed in darkness and cruelty that they simply could not be saved: they could only be fought, and stopped, before they could pull others down the same path. It was this revelation, in part, which had finally compelled him to set side his long-held pacifist beliefs and take up arms against the Empire. On the roof of the Jedi Temple, he had looked into the eyes of the man who had once been his friend, seen the darkness he despised, and lost all hope. It had never occurred to him, not until this very moment, that another might look into those same eyes and see something else - something worth saving. Someone worth fighting for.

With an assuredness that surprised even him, Bail walked forward and placed a hand on his faithful bodyguard's shoulder. As he looked into her inquiring eyes, he couldn't help but smile. "You know what, Sheltay? That might not be too far from the truth. Stranger things have happened."

Sheltay raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief. "Really? Like _what_?"

"I don't know," Bail admitted, the smile still lingering on his face. "But after everything we've been through, I have to admit that I'm in no hurry to find out."

**************************************************

Several thousands kilometers below the arrested battlefront, another equally remarkable shift of fate was taking place. For nearly twelve tense and terrifying hours, the surface of the Imperial capital of Coruscant had served as ground zero of a galaxy-wide uprising, transformed by circumstance from a shining model of order, efficiency, and prosperity to a chaotic battlefield. Following the passionate and resolute call to defiance set forth by the Alliance to Restore the Republic and the Leader's underground resistance, first hundreds, then thousands, then millions of Coruscanti citizens had gathered their courage and ventured forth into the streets to raise their own hearts, arms, and voices against the cruel and oppressive shadow of tyranny. Young, old, male, female, human and alien, poor and wealthy ... citizens of all races, worlds, and circumstances had stood shoulder to shoulder, their astounding differences rendered insignificant by the overreaching ideal of one common purpose: restoring liberty to the galaxy.

Their battle had not been easy. The ragtag alliance of the oppressed and the disillusioned had met a formidable and unyielding resistance in the form of millions of the Emperor's finest soldiers: clone warriors, willing conscripts, hired mercenaries, unmanned drones, and a imposing array of massive Imperial war machines. The fearsome Imperial Army had coldly unleashed its power on the same citizens which long ago it had been commissioned to protect. Against such a cold-minded and purposeful retaliation, the resistance had struggled and been pushed back, their lines faltering and the streets of the capital running red with their blood.

Millions had perished. Countless more were grievously injured. But the Rebels had persisted. Every time a gap in the line was opened by a fallen rebel, it was quickly being filled by another ready to make their mark. And after what seemed like an eternity of pitched battle, their faith and determination had been rewarded.

The Empire, by the very nature of its ideal and its design, was bound together by and followed the direction of a single individual, one man possessed of a powerful, unbreakable, and unyielding will. With the death of its Emperor, Palpatine, the one common thread which had bound the Imperial entity together was broken, and with it, the ruthless driving force keeping its myriad and disparate enforcers focused on its overriding and singular purpose was lost. The clone troopers, so long a model of cold discipline, unexpectedly broke down into confused, uncoordinated factions, and true believers in the dominant government suddenly experienced a vast and inexplicable loss of morale. The once-irreversible tide of both the battle and the war had finally shifted, and the rebels, sensing it, had pressed their advantage with a renewed determination born of courage and hope. The stunned and disoriented Imperials, bereft of any leader and unable to reorganize, were quickly and readily subdued. A few of the most devoted and the most desperate, those who neither wanted nor expected mercy, resolved themselves to fight on to the bitter end. They, however, were a decided minority. Many more fled and untold thousands lay down their arms and surrendered, unwilling to make any further sacrifices in the memory of a master whose cold-hearted pursuit of the ultimate power had finally claimed his life.

Now, the bitter struggle was finally coming to a close. A vast and triumphant crowd had gathered outside the Imperial Palace, a landmark which since its construction had dominated both the skyline and the hearts of the people. The great door sealing off the late Emperor's residence from the rest of the galaxy had been unceremoniously blown off its hinges, and thousands of the jubilant victors had flooded the once sacred structure, some to gloat, others to loot and steal, but many simply to reflect and marvel at the imposing remnants of the government which by their fear they had allowed to rise, and now by their courage they had helped to bring down.

Outside, a thin trail of smoke rose from the Palace's spires, climbing towards the early morning sky. Far above the surface, an array of faint lights dotted the sky, signifying the massive lines of Alliance and Imperial cruisers. For several hours the unseen titans had waged their own fierce struggle for supremacy, setting the heavens alight with waves of fire which seared the horizon like an aurora of warring stars. Now, as on the ground, they too had fallen silent.

On Coruscant, the world that never slept, no secret could be kept silent for long. The word of the cease-fire traveled rapidly through the streets and down the levels, from the highest spires to the lowest slums. As it traveled, a great and resounding cheer went up from the masses, gradually building in strength until it shook the foundations of the highest towers themselves.

"_Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!_"

The call was raised in every language and dialect known to the galaxy, but its meaning rang out true and clear. No voice of oppression could tame it, and no threat of persecution could suppress it. Traveling across invisible lines of communication, from the HoloNet to backchannels, the call spread out from Coruscant, through the Core Regions and out across the galaxy, sweeping across Kuat, Borleias, Corellia, Commenor, Fondor, Bilbringi, and Ord Mantell. Gaining strength, it continued on, passing Kashyyyk, Ithor, Bothawui, Denon, and Obroa-Skai. So great and resilient was the message that eventually, it even made its way to the lawless Outer Rim, where the faraway residents of Bespin, Sullust, Ryloth, Nal Hutta, and Mon Calamari were as one moved to action. Across every world, fireworks were released, statues of the Emperor were toppled, and crowds of citizens danced in the streets in jubilant exaltation of the sacred value that they finally regained.

On Alderaan, spared by the narrowest margin of chance from ultimate destruction, fathers and mothers who had been clinging anxiously to their children and to each other finally released their hold and emerged out of their doors to gaze at their unbroken world with a renewed sense of wonder, silent words of thanks and prayer making their way from their lips to the glimmering heavens. In the Royal Palace of the capital city of Aldera, their Queen knelt beside her bed, clasping a portable holoprojector and carrying on a tearful conversation with her equally emotional husband several thousand light years away.

On Tatooine, far out amidst the sands of the Judland Wastes, Owen and Beru Lars took each other's hand and ventured out of their modest dwelling. The twin suns of Tatoo were slowly disappearing beyond the horizon, painting the sky a rich and magnificent red. The humble moisture farmers made their way around to the stand before the small row of sandworn headstones bearing among them the names Cliegg Lars and Shmi Skywalker. Silently, they held one another and watched as the burning fire which had long reigned over them yielded peacefully and willingly to the forgiving night.

And on Naboo, the Naberrie family gathered together in the small grassy yard behind their own worn-stone house. Sola Naberrie and her husband Darred stood together arm and arm, gazing up at the deep blue sky which was being graced by the brilliant trails of colorful rockets let off by their triumphant neighbors down the street. Beside them, the grandparents, Ruwee and Jobal, were watching warm and satisfied eyes as the two teenage girls, Ryoo and Pooja, danced happily through the garden with their new cousins, Luke and Leia, and their young friend Jadon Kenobi. The joyful shouts of the children mingled with those of the nearby revelers, creating a harmonious sound that warmed the hearts of the four adults. They knew instinctively that beyond the wider implications which the victory at hand would have for the galaxy and their world, it brought with it a far more personal blessing as well. The dream for which they had long held out hope was no longer impossible. After nearly eight years of war, their once-scattered family could finally be whole again.

Across every world, every city, and every home, such scenes of simple grace were occurring as the voice of liberty grew ever stronger. Such a transcendent moment had seldom been attained in the long history of the civilized galaxy ... and it could not last. Within a few months, weeks, or even days, the newly-unified citizens of the galaxy would drift apart once again, the lessons of their glorious triumph fading away amidst the chaotic and tumultuous aggregation of renewed disputes, nefarious enterprises, and the simple concerns of everyday life. Neighbors would resume their quarrels, families would press on together in the eternal struggle to survive, and it would fall to a new government to maintain order, met out justice, and preserve the ever-fragile peace. All the while, life in the galaxy would continue on, much as it had for the past thirty thousand years, in a never-ending balance of life and death, fear and hope, hatred and love.

Yet in that one glorious moment, no one gave such concerns any thought. Brought together by some unknown entity, be it Fate, Destiny, or the Will of the Force, trillions of individuals citizens allowed the barriers created by their differences to melt away and stood together as one, hailing the new birth of freedom.

**************************************************

Though everyone rejoiced, not all joined in the revelry. No war may pass without leaving its mark on those who must live to endure it, and this war had left a prominent and lasting scar across the face of the galaxy. In five short years, over one trillion lives had been lost. Five hundred billion people more had lost their homes and their livelihoods, leaving them on the brink of destitution. Three hundred billion more had been classified as missing; separated from their loved ones, forced into slavery, or abandoned in the field of battle. Dozens of worlds had been burned, or in some cases, been wiped from the galaxy altogether. Untold numbers of families had been scattered, torn to pieces, or destroyed.

Yet these staggering statistics failed to convey any real understanding about the balance between what had been lost and what had been won. The incomparable joy felt by a mother reunited with her child was tempered by the crushing knowledge that her husband and three other children had been lost in the bombing of their home city. The hope of two lovers who had survived the war, only to be separated by fate, was pierced by the excruciating awareness that they might never find each other again. The newly won of a freedom a former slave was hollowed by the realization that everyone that he had ever known and loved was gone.

The true cost of the suffering left by the Galactic Civil War, many realized, could never and would never be quantified.

And then there were those who hung in suspension, cast off to wonder if their destiny had left them to be blessed or cursed. For these scattered individuals, the torture of not knowing was an unbearable burden, dead weight rending at their very soul. They and all those cared for them had offered up the sacrifice necessary for victory, but in the new light which shone upon them, doubt lingered if their faith would indeed be rewarded.

In the outer orbits of Alderaan aboard the Alliance medical frigate _Recovery One_, there gathered a small group of individuals who could be counted among these.

Han Solo, the young intrepid captain of the _Millennium Falcon_, leaned heavily against the doorframe of a small medical observation room just off the main bay. His head bowed and his shoulders slumped, he stared determinedly at the floor, avoiding raising his eyes to behold the bittersweet scene before him. The Wookiee Chewbacca stood beside him, tall and silent as a great pillar of stone. A few paces away, their erstwhile companions, Lando Calrissian, were pacing tensely back and forth, absent-mindedly scuffing his polished and expensive shoes on the durasteel floor.

Han was sore, exhausted, and completely drained. It had been six hours since the destruction of the Death Star, yet despite the fact that his euphoria had long since given way to mounting levels of delirium, he had found himself unable to close his eyes for more than a few tumultuous minutes. He would have given almost anything to be able to collapse onto the nearest passively soft thing and surrender to blissful unconsciousness, but he couldn't. He couldn't rest until he knew.

Unwillingly, he pulled his head up to gaze at the other occupants of the room. Joining him, Chewie, and Lando in uncomfortable silence were three battered Rebel Alliance pilots, still clad in their scorched and torn orange jumpsuits with helmets in hand. Han had not managed yet to catch their names - conversation had been scarce and the pilots, whether out of habit or deliberation, continued to refer to one another by their respective call signs. Red Three, a tall and hardened older man with dark skin and flecks of silver-grey in his close-cropped hair, was flanked on either side by Red Five, a lithe, intensely focused woman with her black hair done up in a series of intricate and ornate braids, and Red Seven, a broad-shouldered young man with a untidy brown mane and a face that appeared to usually carry a devil-may-care smile. None of the pilots were smiling now, however; they bore equal expressions of somber anxiety as they waited, along with Han, for any trace of news, be it good or ill.

Finally, Han's gaze drifted to the room's final occupant. A young, stunningly beautiful woman with a kind, yet regal face and long cascade of blond hair, she was standing by the room's lone paneled window, her slender hand resting gently against the glass. Her shoulders appeared tense and slightly bowed, the only outward sign in her otherwise tightly controlled posture of the great weight which was bearing down upon them. Her solemn green eyes were fixed on what lay beyond the glass, and in them, Han was sure he could see the faintest glimmer of unshed tears.

Han allowed his own gaze to follow the young woman's to rest upon what dwelled in the room adjacent to them. There, suspended in a large and closely monitored bacta tank, was Lieutenant Jax Bronson, his brutally ravaged body drifting limply in the viscous pink fluid. Most of his terribly scarred face had been hidden behind a large breathing mask, but Han, knowing full well what lay behind it, found himself unable to look for more than a few seconds before needing to avert his eyes. The hot tide of guilt that had followed him from the moment he had set foot upon Recovery One was immediately and painfully redoubled.

Several more tense minutes slipped by, during which nobody moved nor spoke. Then, unexpectedly, the door to the observation room slid open, and the ship's chief medical officer stepped through, still clad in his sterilized surgical smock.

The room came to life as every head turned to meet the surgeon's tired gaze. The three Rebel pilots and the young woman immediately converged to form a half-circle around him. Han, feeling decidedly out of place, slid further away down the wall beside Lando and Chewie, tilting his head slightly so that he could hear.

"How is he?" Red Seven demanded immediately before the officer could even open his mouth. "What do you have for us?"

Red Three gave his younger comrade a reproachful look, but the medical officer seemed unfazed. "He's stable, finally. For a long while there I thought we were going to lose him."

A deep sigh of relief went up from every occupant in the room. Han felt his own shoulders ease noticeably, but the tenseness did not leave them entirely. Something told him that the officer wasn't finished.

Red Five's voice sounded faintly hopeful as she spoke up. "Then he's going to be all right? He'll make a full recovery?"

The officer sighed, and Han felt his heart plunge again. He hated it when his instincts were always right ...

"No," the officer said heavily. "We were able to keep his vital organ systems from failing, but the damage he suffered from the explosion was extremely severe. His lungs are scarred, his spleen is ruptured, and there is a significant amount of shrapnel lodged in his chest cavity. He has thirty-eight broken bones, including two fractured tibia, numerous broken ribs and vertebrae, and a cracked skull. His eardrums have been perforated, and he is partially blind."

Red Five raised her hands to her mouth, Red Seven turned away, and Red Three stared straight ahead, his face a fierce mask of despair. Han, his stomach twisting painfully at the recitation of every gruesome injury, bit his lip to keep himself from swearing in anger. This was all his fault ...

The beautiful young woman, who up until this moment had remained silent, suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft and harmonious melody, almost like a song. Han recognized it immediately - it was the voice which had answered him from Alliance Central Control when he had sent out an urgent distress call reporting Jax's injury.

"Is there anything else you can do for him ... please?"

The officer met her gaze. "We are doing everything we can, Natrina. Unfortunately, there is only so much we can do with the resources we have here. Lieutenant Bronson will need a long period of extensive monitoring and treatment at top-level medical facility, followed by an even longer period of rehabilitation. I believe that if he gets the best care, there is a definite chance that he will eventually be able to live what amounts to a normal life, but that is far from certain. He will most likely need mechanical implants and a respirator to get by in the short term." The officer turned his gaze to Red Three. "He will never fly a starfighter again."

"I expected that," Red Three said heavily, the tone of his voice suggesting that he had nonetheless been holding out hope. "Still, if what this young man tells me is true ..." he turned to face Han, who looked up, startled, at the unexpected invocation, "Then Jax has done far more for this galaxy than many pilots could hope to do in a lifetime."

The medical officer looked over seriously at Han. "You and your friends did a very good thing in getting him here so quickly, Captain Solo. Lieutenant Bronson owes you his life."

Han tried to respond, but found that his throat was stuck. The three Rebel pilots and the young woman, Natrina, had all turned to face him, and the somber intensity of their gazes was more than he could take. He suddenly wished he were anywhere else, anywhere but here ...

The medical officer began to withdraw. "I am going to begin making contacts to transfer Lieutenant Bronson to a more suitable trauma facility. It will take several more hours at least. In the meantime, I suggest that all of you leave this room and get some food, some clean clothes, and some sleep. You will do neither yourselves nor the Lieutenant any good if you end up in the sick bay yourselves."

With that, the officer slipped back through the door, leaving it open behind him. At the same time, the window into the medical ward went dark, and Lieutenant Jax Bronson vanished from their sight.

The four Rebels were still staring at Han, and the young Corellian felt his face beginning to grow hot as shame built up within him. Subtly, he tried to catch Lando's or Chewie's eye to indicate his pressing desire to leave. Before he could, however, Red Three stepped forward and placed a gloved hand on Han's shoulder.

"We owe you a great debt, Captain Solo," he said seriously. "Not just for the life of our friend, but for Alderaan, for the Alliance, and for the galaxy as well. If you hadn't done what you did to stay on Jax's wing and keep him alive, the Death Star would have claimed many more lives in service to the Emperor's cruelty, and the victory we have won today would not have been possible."

Red Five and Red Seven nodded in solemn agreement. Han, feeling as though a great vice was crushing him, suddenly found his voice.

"All of you ... need to _stop_ looking at me like I'm some sort of hero. I'm not. I got swept up into this whole thing by chance. I was stupid and reckless enough to put myself in the line of fire, and he somehow got this crazy idea lodged in his head that he needed to sacrifice himself to save me. I'm the only reason he's like this."

He waited, fully expecting a harsh withdrawal and a sharp rebuke, but he was surprised. Red Three did not withdraw his hand or narrow his eyes in accusation. On the contrary, his weathered face softened into a smile.

"Be that as it may, Captain, but it does not change what you did for him. You could have turned away, but you stuck with him, and were there to catch him when he needed you most. True heroes do not go seeking to perform great deeds; in a time of need, greatness is thrust upon them. It can happen at any moment. It happened to you ... and you were ready."

"Hey, Three," Seven said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did you come up with that pretty speech all by yourself?"

Red Five elbowed Seven hard in the chest. Seven winced, then flashed a rueful smile at her, which she met with an icy glare that nonetheless held a noticeable hint of exasperated amusement. Three shot Seven a brief look of annoyance, then turned his head again to face Han.

"Captain Antilles told me that once," he said. "He was our squadron leader, and he always stressed the importance of never leaving your wingman's side in battle. He would have been proud of you, Captain Solo, and of Jax, too."

Han tried to respond, but his throat seemed to have become stuck again. Before he could clear it, Red Three removed his hand from his shoulder and left the room. Red Five and Red Seven gave Han and his companions one last meaningful look, then followed.

Natrina remained, staring at the now-darkened window, the light of tears still visible in her stunning green eyes. Han wished that she had gone, too - the guilt and shame that he felt when he looked at her was almost more than he could stand. To break the spell, he turned to face Lando and Chewie, who seemed quite relieved that they were now alone. Doing his best to muster up his usual cocksure grin, Han spoke up.

"Well, I guess all that's over with. The _Falcon_ ought to be repaired and refueled by now. You two ready to blaze a trail on out of here?"

"Gladly," Lando responded. "These Alliance types seem like fine people ... very fine people, in fact ..." his gaze lingered for a long moment on Natrina before Chewbacca let out a low warning growl, "But unfortunately, I find that there is only so much of their _respectable_ idealism that I can take."

"I hear you, Lando," Han said, trying to keep the relief in his voice to a minimum. "After you, then."

Lando swept out, flashing a winning smile at Natrina as he passed. Chewbacca gave Han a pat on the back that knocked him a full pace forward, then exited as well. Han lingered for a moment, debating whether to say something to Natrina, but his nerve failed him and he quickly stepped out the door after his friends.

"Wait."

Han froze, unwillingly. Behind him, Natrina had given her head a gentle toss, set her shoulders, then turned away from the window to face the tense young Corellian pilot. "I'll walk with you."

Han wasn't sure whether to feel thwarted or relieved. He had been anticipating that Natrina, who had seemed to be on the verge of tears throughout the many hours they had spent silently in the observation room, might finally break down after he left, and was not keen on serving as a soundboard for the grief of a young woman for whose emotional condition he felt partly responsible. Yet Natrina seemed to be in remarkably good control of her emotions at the moment, and Han did not wish to seem cold by refusing her.

"If you want," he said casually, trying his hand once more at a confident, lopsided smile. "My ship is this way."

Natrina nodded and the two of them set off towards the hanger, Chewie and Lando bickering animatedly a few meters ahead. Natrina walked with her arms crossed over her chest, while Han strolled along, injecting as much nonchalance into his manner as possible.

"So you're not staying?"

Han started and looked over to see Natrina staring directly at him, her sharp green eyes burning into his. The question had caught him so off-guard that he found himself searching several seconds for an appropriate answer.

"No," he said finally. "No, I'm not."

Natrina's gaze lingered on his. "Why?"

Again, the question took Han off-guard. Natrina's unfaltering stare was making him increasingly uncomfortable, but neither her expression nor her tone appeared to be judgmental. She seemed to be honestly curious. This in and of itself was surprising; few people in Han's life had ever been curious enough about him to ask such questions, and for the most part, he preferred it that way. This was a new experience for him, one he found himself wary to embrace.

"I'm not a part of your Alliance. I've got no place here, and to be honest, I don't really want one. I'd rather be on my own, cruising up and down the known and unknown lanes of this galaxy. There's a lot to see, and I've only got one life to do it in."

A faint smile touched Natrina's lips. "Aren't you a little young to be joyriding from end of the galaxy to the other?"

Han rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't give me that whole young-is-the-fool speech, sister. I've heard it all before. Besides, you're only a few years older than I am."

"But I'm not the one who's leaving," Natrina responded, her smile becoming decidedly amused. "There's a place for everyone here, Han. You're a good pilot - we could use someone like you."

Natrina's use of his first name gave Han some pause. During his hard formative years, from the Imperial Navy to scraping a living across the galaxy, he had gotten used to dealing with only two kinds of people - those who wanted something from him, and those who wanted him dead. Now, Natrina might fall under the first category - she was asking him to stay, after all - but she was doing so in a manner that was neither coercive nor overbearing. She was not expecting anything from him. She was merely making a request - as one would to a friend.

"Maybe, sister," he said finally. "But I don't like staying in one place for too long. I'm always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next attack, or else I'm looking around the next turn to see if the stars shine brighter on the other side. I wouldn't last too long if I tried to stick around - more than likely, I'd just drive myself, you, and anyone else around up a wall."

Natrina, seeming to understand what he was saying, finally looked away. Han thought that she seemed disappointed. He felt something stir in his stomach, and for a moment he was strongly tempted to take back what he had just said and tell her that he would stick around. Was he really sure that he wanted to go? Wasn't he tired of running around, living from day to day? Maybe it would be nice to spend more than one day in the same place, help to build something new, get to actually know a few people rather than always seeing them as nameless faces in an ever-changing crowd ...

But was he really ready to give up his life of freedom before it had even truly begun? After years of longing, he had finally received his own ship, the Millennium Falcon, and now that the Empire was folding, he could roam the uncharted hyperspace lanes of the galaxy at will without constantly having to shake Imperial cruisers off his tail. He could be whatever he wanted to be, do whatever he wanted to do, be it smuggling, privateering, bounty-hunting, space racing, thrill seeking, or as Natrina had put it, simple joyriding. He had been to dozens of worlds in his life, but there were still millions left to see, and he had years left before fate or misdeed caught up with him. He would be the embodiment of freedom, bound by no man's law or whim but his own ...

The choice gnawed at him, and to his surprise, he found himself torn. To buy himself some time, he decided to turn the tables.

"If you don't mind me asking, sister, why do you even care what I do? You don't know me - we only met a few hours ago."

Natrina turned to face him again, and Han had to work very hard not to find himself hypnotized by her mesmerizing eyes. The earnestness and care in her gaze was tangible.

"You saved Jax's life, Han," she said quietly. "I'm very grateful to you."

Han felt his stomach fill up with lead. He couldn't take much more of this. He _needed_ everyone to understand that he was not some pure and all-protecting saint. He had acted selfishly and recklessly, thinking first and foremost about himself. He had gotten lucky. That was it. As it was, he had still nearly ruined everything.

"You have no reason to be grateful to me," he told her, much more harshly than he had intended. "I wanted to leave. I would have left, if Jax hadn't practically forced me to stay. I didn't protect him. I nearly got him killed."

"No, Han, you didn't," Natrina said sharply. "Jax did what he had to do to destroy the Death Star. He made a conscious choice, one that saved billions of lives, and he has paid a terrible price for it. But if you hadn't been there, he would have died. So _don't_ tell me that you don't deserve my being grateful for what you've done. You _do_, and I am."

"Listen to me," Han said weakly, all harsh confidence gone from his voice now. The young woman's retort had been so vehement that Han found himself taken aback. "I don't think you understand ..."

"Understand what?" Natrina asked him challengingly. "The cost of inaction? Han, I joined the Alliance four years ago, when I was sixteen. The Imperial magistrate on Commenor had accused my father of selling food and medical supplies to a local opposition movement. I watched as stormtroopers dragged him out of the house before beating him senseless. My mother pleaded with the magistrate, but he wouldn't listen, and when she tried to stop him, he had her beaten too. I was too scared to do anything, so the stormtroopers knocked me unconscious and left me there, alone. When I woke up, every house in the neighborhood had been burned, and my parents were gone. I never saw them again."

Her voice caught briefly, but she pressed on. "When I left Commenor, I filled with guilt and with hate. I was determined never to let anyone into my heart again because I was certain it would only lead to more pain. That's why it was so hard when I met Jax. I tried to keep my distance, but I couldn't. When I found out he had gone up against the Death Star, I thought I had lost him as well ... and that's when I knew."

Han stared openly at the passionate young woman before him, understanding finally dawning on him as he spoke.

"You ... you love him, don't you?"

Natrina smiled bravely, her brilliant green eyes glittering once again. "Yes, Han, I do. I'm still coming to terms with it. I knew that I cared for him, but I never knew just how deep my feelings ran until I believed that he was lost. Once that happened, I thought I would never get the chance to tell him. But you, Han ... you gave me back that chance."

Han didn't know what to say. He noted, with some degree of surprise, that they had traveled such a great distance that he and Natrina were now only a few meters away from the hanger bay. The battered, saucer-shaped disk of the _Falcon_ was visible just beyond the open double doors, and he could see Lando and Chewie arguing vaguely with the mechanic about something or other. Apparently, it was easily settled because the Wookiee gave a serious bark and the mechanic stepped hurriedly aside, looking more than a little fearful. Smirking, Lando tossed his cape over his shoulder and stepped jauntily up the ramp and into the cabin, Chewbacca behind him.

Without warning, Han stopped walking, and Natrina pulled up beside him, staring at him with an earnest, yet almost defiant look. The young Corellian, unsure why he was stopping with his escape so clearly in sight, took a deep breath, trying to condense the maelstrom of emotions swirling within him into a coherent set of words. He was trying so hard to take responsibility for his actions, to get someone else to see why he felt so lost at this hour of triumph, to own up to the blame he knew belonged squarely on his shoulders. But in the face of such open understanding, he was finding it increasingly difficult to justify his guilt-driven mindset. He found that he wanted to believe what Natrina was telling him, but it was so Sith-forsaken hard ...

"Natrina ..." he said finally. It was the first time he had used her name aloud, and it rolled off his tongue like a peaceful and melodious note in a familiar song, giving him the confidence and strength to finally meet her gaze again. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, Han," Natrina responded. "I just want what's best for you. You don't have to tell me, but I can see in your eyes that you've lived a very hard life. You've never known peace. I just hope that, whatever path you decide to follow, you might finally begin to find it."

Han looked back over his shoulder at the Falcon, waiting eagerly in the wings, and then back at Natrina, standing before him with a faint smile on her lips. As he stood there, contemplating her words, the young pilot finally felt the crushing vice which had locked upon his heart finally begin to loosen its interminable hold. His thoughts unexpectedly disengaged from the restless, self-destructive pattern along which they had long been content to travel, and one by one, the malevolent cacophony of voices that had plagued him since his run on the Death Star began to fall silent.

Taken for a momentary loop by his unexpected reprieve, Han did not allow his feelings to show. He felt lighter than he had in years. As a wave of heat swept down his spine, Han felt a remarkable sense of assurance take over him. He knew, in that moment, how to find the balance he longed for, and the road that his fate had set for him.

"You're right, Natrina," he said quietly. "You and I may be as different as they come, but we know what we want. You've found your peace. Me, I'm still searching for mine, and I'll be the first to tell you that I haven't the faintest clue where I might find it. Maybe somewhere else, under a different sun, I'll understand better. Maybe not. But I can promise you this: no matter where I go or where I end up, I won't stop looking."

Natrina smiled warmly, her face alighting with a captivating radiance. "That's all I can ask for, Han. Just know if you ever change your mind or need a place to stop over while you decide where to go next, the Alliance will still be here, and the offer will still be standing."

Han gave her a lopsided grin. "I'll think about it, all right?"

"You do that, Han," Natrina responded, almost teasingly. Without warning, she moved in and wrapped him in an embrace. Han, thoroughly surprised yet again, stood there for a moment with his arms awkwardly at his sides, then raised them up and placed them gently across Natrina's shoulders. The embrace lasted for several long seconds, then Natrina stepped back, but before she pulled away completely, she raised herself up and gave Han a light kiss on the cheek. The young pilot's skin burned at the lingering traces of contact, and he had to work very hard not to keep his heart from racing and his face from going completely red. Natrina, seemingly oblivious to the stir she had created, took several more steps back, heading towards the door.

"Thank you, Han," she said softly. "Take care of yourself, whatever happens."

"You too," Han told her, meaning every word. "Oh, and Natrina ..."

The young woman, who had begun to turn away, stopped and looked back towards Han. "Yes?"

Han stood there for a long moment, trying to find a way to put his thoughts into a few concise, yet meaningful words. "If ... when ... Jax wakes up, tell him I wish him the best ... and that I'm sorry."

Natrina nodded, and a lone tear, which she had held back for so long, slid down her face, leaving a graceful trail on her cheek. "I will."

Han began to move away up the Falcon's ramp, then stopped again. "Oh, and be sure to tell him that the next time he wants to blow up a Death Star, he better bring something bigger with him, like an armada. I'm _never_ doing something like that again."

Natrina offered him a winning smile, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Never say never, Captain Solo."

Han did not answer, but simply gave her a wink and another lopsided grin. Then he jogged up the ramp of his ship and into the cabin, his heart feeling lighter with each and every step.

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"What took you so long?" Lando demanded, the moment Han ducked into the pilot's compartment and settled into the captain's chair. "You were out there with her long enough to tell her your life story! I hope that you at least got a goodbye kiss out of it!"

In the co-pilot's seat, Chewbacca let out an earnest growl. Han, ignoring Lando's jibe, grinned and took his hands off the controls, placing them cockily behind his head.

"You said it, Chewie," he announced. "You can't buy moments like this ... though that won't stop me from trying."

Lando, apparently deciding he would press for more details later, settled comfortably into the chair directly behind Han's and putting his expensive boots up against the pilot's chair. "Well now, looks like we got ourselves a regular old hero on our hands, don't we Chewie? What say you, Mr. Hero? Feeling like sharing any of your _heroic_ insights with us?"

Han scowled and looked over his shoulder at his irritating friend. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Lando. I'm no more of a hero than you are a ladies' man."

"Then you are no less than the greatest champion ever to grace this galaxy with your presence," Lando shot back languidly. "So, my young pirate friend, now that you've single-handedly saved the galaxy, where are we off to next?"

Han smiled deviously. "What makes you think you're coming, Lando? I only agreed to take you off Coruscant because you still owe me a hundred credits from our last game of sabacc. Once we've squared that debt, what's stopping me from dumping you off on the next semi-habitable rock that we pass along the way?"

"C'mon, Han, old buddy, you know you don't want to do that," Lando said, adopted a mock-wheedling tone. "In addition to the many irreplaceable skills that I possess as both a gunner and a co-pilot ... if necessary" he added quickly, glancing with apprehension at Chewbacca, "I also raise the attractiveness of our party to such a level as to attract the most exquisite young ladies. Besides, who are you going to test yourself against in sabacc if not me? That last game was a fluke - I fully intend to put you back in your place next round. If you don't play nice, I might even take your ship."

"Hey, don't even joke about that," Han said sternly. Nevertheless, he was finding it hard not to laugh. He turned to face his co-pilot. "What do you think, Chewie? Should we let this loser tag along for a while?"

Chewbacca turned and tilted his head at Lando, as if sizing him up. Lando gave the Wookiee a wide, winning smile, though it was obvious he was slightly intimidated. After a few seconds, Chewbacca turned back to Han and woofed an affirmative, followed by an ominous caution.

"Looks like you've got the big lug's seal of approval," Han told him. "Of course, you'll have to behave yourself ... otherwise he'll tear your arms out of their sockets."

"Never fear," Lando replied gallantly, clearly not wanting to dwell on the alternative. "I shall conduct all my business aboard this vessel with both honor and humility ... within reasonable limits, of course. I'm still young, and as such I am entitled to a certain degree of stupidity, as Han knows full well."

"All right, I think that that's the best we'll get out of him, Chewie," Han muttered, rolling his eyes. "Strap yourself in, Lando. Once we clear the fleet, we're going to let her go full throttle."

He returned his attention to the _Falcon_'s navigation system in front of him, activated the repulsors as he plotted the course they would take once free. The ancient ship rose up into the air and glided out of the hanger, emerging into a vast collection of Alliance battleships, ranging from wings of one-man starfighters to enormous cruisers several hundred meters long. The group was congregating together, possibly preparing for a jump to hyperspace. Beyond the tip of the fleet, the still-expanding nebula left by the destruction of the Empire's ultimate weapon lingered like a great cloud of multicolored sand. It was an eerily beautifully sight, yet Han, who had lived through the terrible and costly battle leading up to this moment, knew that beneath the shimmering surface of the moment lay a swirling undercurrent of life and death which could never be overlooked or forgotten. As he stared straight ahead, absorbed in the past, Natrina's words drifted back to him, clear as the unbroken sky.

_You've never known peace. I just hope that, whatever path you decide to follow, you might finally begin to find it._

The hope and care in those words settled around Han like an old friend as he reflected on what lay before him. He thought about the millions of beings who had devoted themselves to the cause of freedom and would now be able to build a galaxy where it could endure. He thought about Natrina and Jax, who with a little luck would finally get their chance at happiness together. Finally, he thought about himself, Lando, and Chewie, three unlikely companions thrown together by chance, who now had the opportunity to set off into the unknown and choose the course of their own unique and special destiny.

Han allowed a true smile to break across his face as he flipped a switch and pressed the throttle forward with both hands as far as it could go.

_This is where the fun begins._

And so the Millennium Falcon raced on, a lone ship silhouetted against the endless backdrop of stars. With incontrovertible grace and invisible ease, it outstripped the fleet of massing ships, the outlying asteroid fields, and the golden trails of swirling dust as it left both Alderaan and the Alliance effortlessly behind, soaring ever onward, towards eternity and the rising sun.

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**Next Chapter:** _One year after the end of the Galactic Civil War, the galaxy's wounds are slowly yet noticeably healing. Amidst the trials of rebuilding, two individuals who thought that fate had passed them by finally get their chance at happiness._

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**Author's Note:** You might have noticed that the last two chapters have done little-to-no checking in on our beloved main characters, Anakin, Padme, Obi-Wan, Sabe, Yoda, and Mace. Because all of you have been so patient and so helpful, I will be writing an additional interim chapter for anyone who wants it, which fills in the gaps of what happened right after the crew escaped from Palpatine's throne room on Coruscant. I am currently planning to send this chapter out by PM, and this is because one, it is not explicitly essential, and two, it does not fit quite so smoothly into the structure of the story as it has been laid out here. Please let me know if you would like to read this chapter, either by messaging me or posting here. Of course, if there is a big call for me to just post it in the forum, I can do that instead.

I will be writing this chapter concurrently with the next official chapter, so I can't tell you as of yet which will be released first. Hopefully, both will be finished quickly and herefor you to read soon.

To give you a little preview of what the bonus chapter will contain, I provide the following details.

1) It will include two scenes, one starring Anakin and Padme, the other focusing on Obi-Wan and Sabe.

2) The scenes will be dialogue-driven and emotional. Just because Anakin balanced the Force and Obi-Wan was saved doesn't mean that our heroes don't have some issues to deal with and some demons to confront.

3) At the very end, Obi-Wan and his son Jadon will make contact for the very first time.

Hopefully that's enough to entice you. Until then, my thoughts and prayers to all of you for a safe and happy 2009!


	68. Reconciliation

Hey everyone! "Long time no see" seems like a familiar greeting for us now, doesn't it?

This is the chapter I originally announced that I was going to send out by PM. However, two things happened to change this: one, several of you stated your preference for a direct posting, and two, I ended up writing the chapter in such a way that it ended up being both longer and more relevant to the overall story than I had originally expected. Therefore, I no longer have any concerns about including it on this thread – in fact, this means I will get to write a shorter concluding chapter and epilogue (and therefore get them to you sooner). I have finals coming up very soon, so you won't hear from me after this for over a week at least, but I hope that you enjoy this new and expanded chapter! Thank you all so much for your continuing interest and wonderful comments - I continue to read and deeply appreciate them all.

On to the chapter.

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**Chapter 68**

"Am I to understand then, My Lord, that we have your final confirmation?"

Seated precariously in the communications chair of the small Imperial Shuttle overlooking Coruscant, Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled and nodded with a pointed sense of finality. "Yes, Admiral. You have my authorization."

Imperial Vice Admiral Thrawn's impeccably crisp voice carried smoothly over the channel. "Then, My Lord, we shall proceed with the protocol immediately."

"Thank you, Admiral," Obi-Wan replied steadily. "Lord Vader out."

He pressed a button on the console and the channel to the Imperial Star Destroyer _Reaper_ disconnected with a definitive click. As soon as the line was broken, Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and let out a shallow, marginally steady breath, a quiet and yet somehow assuring sound which nevertheless felt and sounded to every soul gathered together at that moment in space and time like a whispered word from heaven. His work finished, the newly redeemed Jedi Knight turned his head up and smiled with slight amusement at the two individuals who had stood beside him, one hand on each of his shoulders, for the entire duration of the transmission, ready to steady him should he betray the slightest sign of weakness.

"I think you two can let go now."

Anakin Skywalker offered his old master a somewhat sheepish grin as he withdrew his hand and moved back to stand at the far side of the pilot's compartment with his wife, Padmé Amidala Skywalker. On Obi-Wan's other side, Sabé Nabberie removed her own hand somewhat more reluctantly, and remained by her long-lost lover's side as he slowly raised himself out of the communication officer's chair. The other occupants of the cockpit, including the Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu, kept their anxious eyes fixed on him as, with no small degree of difficulty, he drew himself up to his full height and turned around to face them.

Yoda was the first to speak. "Successful, you were, Master Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan inclined his head respectfully towards the ancient Jedi. "Yes, Master."

A look of deep solemnity settled across Yoda's deeply lined face at Obi-Wan's response. Slowly, his great head bowed and his body settled as if the weight of nearly one thousand years had been lifted from his shoulders. "Then finished, it is."

"Just like that?" Padmé asked, almost reverently. "The war ... it's over?"

"Yes, Padmé," Obi-Wan turned his head to look at her, a warm smile on his face. The smile, however, contained a visible hint of a wince. Though it disappeared quickly; the reassuring expression was not quite sufficient to fully mask the torturous strain which lingered just beneath the surface, the tremendous exertion it was costing him to stand upright unaided. Concern flickered in Anakin's eyes as he watched his former master struggle to maintain his calm, unconcerned façade, and a brief flash of empathy mixed with guilt pierced his heart. From the unstated tension flickering in the room through the Force, he knew that Mace and Yoda had also noticed their colleague's momentary loss of control.

Obi-Wan was aware of the concern his weakened condition was causing, but he did not show it, continuing his answer to Padmé as if nothing had happened.

"Admiral Thrawn will see to it that the fighting ceases. After that, he will reach out to you and Senator Organa to see that the Empire and the Alliance are brought together to negotiate how best to disarm our forces and build a new governing coalition, one which will meet the best needs of all citizens."

"Do you trust him, Obi-Wan?" Padmé pressed forcefully. "That man - Thrawn - thought that he was speaking with Darth Vader - do you really think that once he learns the truth he will carry out the orders you gave him?

"Admiral Thrawn is a very astute man, Padmé," Obi-Wan replied calmly. "He understands what needs to be done. Whatever he knows ... and I suspect that he knows more than we think ... he will not allow it to affect his rational judgment. He will carry out Lord Vader's final order with the intent of building towards what lies ahead, not dwelling over what will no longer be."

"We have done all that we can," Mace agreed, a warm smile rising to his lips as he met the eyes of his old friend. "Especially you, Obi-Wan. It is time that we begin to look forward as well."

Padmé seemed ready to reply, but she hesitated; there was something in Obi-Wan's steadily-maintained gaze that was so confident, so utterly certain of the truth to come, she could not help but believe him. Her doubts faded from her lips and she found herself returning Obi-Wan's warm and reassuring smile, a smile so calm it belied the tumultuous experience which they had all managed to survive - an upheaval so great that in the span of a few short hours it had turned all of their lives completely upside down.

Following the destruction of the Emperor, the terrifying struggle between light and dark, and finally the incredible, mind-bending circumstances of Obi-Wan's resurrection, the Rebels' escape from the heart of the Imperial Palace seemed had positively mundane. The residents of the Palace had been in complete chaos as they struggled to compensate for the unthinkable provision of their leader's death with the equally unfathomable condition of a ragtag army of insurgent citizens tearing down the door of their most hallowed sanctuary. The four Jedi and the two women had met virtually nothing in the way of resistance on their way to the Emperor's personal hanger bay; the few Imperials they did encounter had mostly been low level aides and diplomats, all of whom had been far too panicked even to recognize that the intruders were bearing the half-unconscious body of the former Dark Lord of the Sith in their midst. Upon their arrival at the hanger, Mace's subtle use of Force-persuasion techniques and Anakin's not-so-subtle use of a lightsaber had allowed them to commander a shuttle with no significant bloodshed. From that point, they had easily navigated out of Coruscant's atmosphere through a hole in the collapsing planetary defense shield and emerged in a stretch of space some distance from the still-raging battle. Now, even as they watched, the lines of Imperial and Alliance warships were slowly but surely falling silent, marking an end to the great conflict which had nearly torn a world and a galaxy apart.

"If no one has any other objections ..." Anakin said after several long moments of weighted silence, "then I think we should plot a course and go to hyperspace."

"Certainly, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, offering his former apprentice a tired, grateful smile. "Where should we go?"

"First things first," Sabé injected forcefully. All eyes turned to her, but the fiery young woman was still gazing fixedly at Obi-Wan. "We need to go somewhere secure where you can get immediate and unbiased medical attention."

Obi-Wan shook his head. In doing so, he grit his teeth noticeably as some unseen flash of agony racked his body once more. Everyone saw it this time. The anxious tension in the cockpit jumped another notch, to the level were it was palpable even to those who could not touch the Force. Seeming to realize that his calm ruse was not fooling anyone anymore, Obi-Wan drew himself up to his full height and a note of stern defiance crept into his voice. "Sabé, don't worry about me. Trust me, I've been through much worse. I'll be fine ..."

"Don't tell me you're fine, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Sabé said imperiously, her deep brown eyes boring directly into those of the Jedi, flashing with a fierce and heated determination. "I _know_ you're in agonizing pain right now. You can barely stand. You can barely _breathe_. You're still missing your arm. And, if all that weren't enough, you nearly _died_ less than two hours ago. So don't play games with the rest of us by saying you don't need medical attention; you need it and you need it now!"

"She's right, Obi-Wan," Anakin interjected abruptly. "You've done what you needed to do, you shouldn't be putting yourself through anymore stress. As matter of fact, I think you should go back into the rest bay right now, go into a healing trance, and not come out of it until we revert from hyperspace. I did not go to all the trouble of saving you from the dark side and pulling you back from death just so you could keel over in the shuttle before you really get to start living again."

Obi-Wan raised a thin eyebrow at his former apprentice, seeming both exasperated and amused by his apprentice's anxious posturing, yet also surprised at the sheer level of conviction in Anakin's tone. His voice lost its defiant edge and took on an almost playful tone.

"Tell me, Anakin ... since when did you become my mother?"

"Since you made it clear that you're not interested in looking out for yourself," Anakin shot back. Unexpectedly, his sharp blue eyes softened, and his tone took on an almost pleading note. "Please, Obi-Wan, at least try ... for Sabé, for me, for all of us. We …" he hesitated, his voice unexpectedly catching in his throat. "Obi-Wan, we ..."

Again he stopped, unable to finish. The Chosen One struggled to compose himself, the sheer weight of the emotion and turmoil that were racking his thoughts threatening to overrun him. He struggled for a long moment until, unexpectedly, someone took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Padmé.

The familiar, reassuring warmth of his wife's touch cut through the storm that had embroiled Anakin's mind, restoring clarity once more. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his head and looked his former master directly in the eyes once more. "We can't lose you again."

All eyes turned to Obi-Wan again, resting on him as if for the first time. As they did so, it was as if an invisible fog had been lifted away from their own senses. All of them realized that since the events of the Imperial Palace, they had more or less been living in the midst of a fragile, unspoken illusion. Overwhelmed by the circumstances of having Obi-Wan, redeemed and reincarnated, returned to them at last, none of them had stopped to consider just how thinly worn was the strand from which all of their hopes still hung. None of them had truly registered that Obi-Wan's body was still coldly shackled inside the towering black armor, the boldly designed life support system which had kept Darth Vader alive for over five years. None of them had noticed that amidst the scattered moments of silence could be heard the faint sound of the respirator that was still implanted in the Jedi Master's chest, assisting his scarred and ravaged lungs in drawing each and every breath.

None of them except Anakin.

Anakin, like Obi-Wan, had been to the edge and confronted the endless abyss that lay beyond. Vader was gone, his terrible mask torn away at last, but the gruesome array of wounds and scars that he had sustained during his subjugation of the galaxy remained to weigh upon the man who had returned. The armor which Obi-Wan still wore - and which Anakin had been ordained to wear - was incontrovertibly bound to the legacy of the Dark Lord of the Sith, and the armor still remained - an imposing reminder of the shadow which had nearly consumed them all. It was a reminder that even with the power of the Force and the even greater power of love, not all injuries could be forgotten, and not all scars could be healed.

The light of banter faded from Obi-Wan's eyes as he bore his peers' concerned scrutinizing stares. He met Anakin's eyes, and the deep, forcefully-restrained pain which he saw in them mirrored the silent agony now openly visible in his own. The retort that had risen readily to his lips gradually faded away, and he swallowed hard, no longer attempting to hide that which he had held within.

"If ... if you insist, Anakin."

Profound silence lingered for a long moment after his words faded from the air. It was broken when Padmé, her eyes shimmering slightly, stepped forward.

"We'll set a course for Polis Massa," she said authoritatively. "Obi-Wan can get the best care in the galaxy there, and it's nonpartisan, so we won't have to deal with any bureaucracy. Bail and I can handle the Alliance when the time comes, but I don't think we should bring them in on this yet."

"That sounds like a wise course of action," Mace said approvingly. "I'll program the navicomputer; Sabé, could you assist Obi-Wan to the med bay?"

Sabé, protectively, slipped her right arm into Obi-Wan's left. "I would love to."

Obi-Wan did not resist as Sabé gently guided him away from the communications chair and towards the door. As they walked, they passed by Anakin, still standing rigidly as if carved from stone. Obi-Wan stopped, and the two shared yet another long glance, during which the weight of all that still needed to be said hung heavily between them. Slowly, Obi-Wan spoke.

"Anakin, before I leave ... there's one thing I have to tell you."

Anakin braced his shoulders nervously. "What's that, Obi-Wan?"

Unexpectedly, Obi-Wan's eyes warmed and a genuine, pain-free smile rose to his lips.

"You look like hell. As your friend, I feel I owe it to you to say that a little rest and relaxation wouldn't hurt for you either."

Anakin's face broke into a sheepish smile, and the heavy atmosphere between them vanished like a thin wisp of smoke. "Thanks, Obi-Wan."

"Don't mention it," Obi-Wan replied, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I'm sure I speak for Padmé when I say that it would be a shame if anything were to disfigure your perfectly arranged features any further."

"Careful, Obi-Wan," Anakin said warningly, his smile nonetheless widening into a fully-fledged grin. "If that's how you want to play it, I've got thirteen years worth of material just begging to unleashed."

Obi-Wan winked. "I'll be ready for it."

"No, you won't," Anakin shot back cheekily. "Go get your beauty sleep now."

"I'll do that," Obi-Wan laughed, taking Sabé's arm again and stepping towards the door under his own power. "And Anakin ... thank you. Thank you for bringing me back."

A rush of indescribable emotion swept over Anakin, wiping his mind blank. Unconsciously, he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could think of the right words to match such an incredible admission, Obi-Wan winked at him again, ducked under the threshold, and disappeared along with Sabé through the open door.

"Coordinates are entered," Mace's voice filtered through the air as if from a great distance. "Lightspeed in three, two, one ..."

The cabin lurched slightly as beyond the forward viewport, the stars condensed into lines. Then the entire shuttle shot forward and the glittering lights of Imperial Center, now rechristened as Coruscant once more, vanished into a whirlwind of ethereal, inter-dimensional light.

The transition jarred Anakin out of his momentary stupor, and the emotions which had welled up inside of him so suddenly fled from him just as quickly, leaving him feeling strangely cold and empty. The Chosen One was so surprised by the sharp, almost paralyzing reversal that he only barely managed to register that Master Windu was speaking again ... speaking to him. Silently, he forced himself out of his reverie.

"Our journey to Polis Massa will be a long one," Mace announced. If he had noticed Anakin's briefly distracted state, he gave no sign. "We should all get some rest, but before we do, I believe that Master Yoda and I have some matters to discuss concerning the immediate future of the Jedi Order." He turned to face the Chosen One and smiled. "Would you like to join us, Anakin?"

Yoda cleared his throat slightly. "Unnecessary for now, that is, Master Windu," he said forcefully. "Speak with you alone, I must. Senior matters to discuss, we have."

Mace looked down at his old Master, his expression halfway between puzzlement and a frown. "Master Yoda, with all due respect ... don't you feel that given what has just happened, Anakin has earned the right to be included in any such discussion?"

Yoda looked evenly for a moment at Mace and then, unexpectedly, turned his penetrating green eyes to Anakin and Padmé. "Given what has just happened," he said slowly, "Confront the past, all of us must."

Anakin met the elder Jedi's intense stare as evenly as he could. Though all his considerable mental shields were fully in place, he could not shake the feeling that Yoda was reading his thoughts, effortlessly drawing forth all of his deepest, darkest memories and forcing them dispassionately in the unforgiving light. He had to muster up all the will he could to keep himself from looking away. Just a few centimeters, he could feel Padmé's warm presence hovering at his side, but it did not offer his troubled mind the unconscious, soothing solace it usually did. He knew why, but he did not want to admit it. He did not know if he had the strength left within him to fight that battle. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Mace glanced first at Yoda, then at Anakin and Padmé, understanding dawning on his face. He nodded slowly. "Oh ... of course. You may have all the time you need. When you're finished, if you decide that you wish to join us, the door will be open for you."

Anakin nodded in turn. "Thank you, Mace."

Yoda turned away, mercifully freeing the Chosen One from his soul-searching stare. Without another word, he shuffled towards the door to the main cabin, limping noticeably without his cane. Mace offered Anakin one last look, an encouraging sort of smile, which Anakin did his best to return. Then Mace silently followed Yoda over the threshold. The door slid shut behind them.

The moment that the two Jedi Masters made their exit, Anakin and Padmé turned to face one another, the distance between them seeming to converge to nothing. As Anakin looked deeply into his wife's beautiful, heart-stopping brown eyes, he once again found himself captured by the weight of the moment. The last time he had looked into her eyes like that, he had been so sure that it he would never have the opportunity to do so again. He had voluntarily sworn to himself that he was going to sever all contact with her ... and not just with her, but with her children as well. So convinced had he been that his destiny was fixed, that he was nothing more than an instrument of its will, that at the time he had managed to delude himself into believing that what he was doing was actually for their own good. He, after all, had been cursed to wear the mantle of Darth Vader, a path which could only lead either glory in darkness, or death - neither of which he had wanted for those who he loved. They, at least, could be happy and free, even if he was bound to remain a slave.

Looking back now, in the light of all he had learned, he could see with full clarity for the first time just how selfish, how cruel, how blindingly _stupid_ he had been. Eight years ago, he had sworn a solemn, sacred oath to protect the woman before him with his life, in sickness and in health, until all around them was dust. Instead, when the darkness had reached its peak, he had willingly left her side. He had abandoned her. Padmé's words from the throne room still rang out to him, mocking him with their absolute truth.

"_You cast me aside without any regard for my happiness, what I wanted! That's a betrayal, Anakin, a betrayal of our marriage and our love. By you!"_

God, how could she even stand to _look_ at him? Why was she not running from him, or screaming at him, or punching every square centimeter of him that she could reach? She was so, _so_ much stronger than he was: had she done half the things to him that he had done to her, he would have been completely and utterly destroyed.

When confronting Obi-Wan's soul in the ether of the Force, he had promised him that if he returned, Sabé would forgive him for all of his transgressions against her ... and she had, because she loved him. It had been easy to believe his words then, but now confronted with the reality before him, they seemed like nothing more than a fanciful dream. He knew that Padmé loved him … God, he could _see_ it in her eyes ... but he had never been less sure that he deserved that love. Yes, she had forgiven him for terrible offenses before, but could she really forgive him for this? Did he even want her too?

Padmé had yet to say anything to him. Instead, she reached forward across time and space to take his hand. Silently, she guided him over to the front of the compartment, where he sank into the pilot's chair. Padmé sat down in the co-pilot's seat across from him, still holding his hand across the divide. Softly, without breaking Anakin's gaze, she began to speak.

"Something's troubling you, Ani. Tell me."

Anakin's heart skipped another ten beats. Here it was ... here was his chance to come clean, to pour out his soul to her, to explain to her as best as he could why he had done all that he had done. Yet even as he began to piece together the words, he could feel his courage leaving him. This was happening too fast - he didn't want to, in a panic, put forth some ill-considered words that would push her even further away. If he could somehow delay the inevitable ... forestall his coming judgment for a few days or even a few hours ... maybe he would be better prepared. Surely she would understand, given all that had just happened. It was worth a try.

Anakin took a deep breath and put on the bravest, most relaxed smile that he could muster.

"What could possibly be troubling me, Angel? Everything we worked for, hoped for ... it's done. The war ... it's finally over. We brought Obi-Wan back from the darkness. Not only that, our children will finally have the secure future that you dreamed of and fought so hard for. I couldn't be happier right now."

The softness vanished from Padmé's eyes, replaced with the cold temper of hardened steel.

"You're lying to me."

There was no hesitation in her voice; it was a cold statement of fact. Anakin's weak, half-hearted attempt at a smile faded away completely as he beheld the seriousness in his wife's face. Her tone was not accusatory, but it carried a heavy note which Anakin could not quite place. Was it sadness? Disappointment? Anger? Not knowing was paralyzing him, rendering him completely unsure how to proceed. He reached out tentatively with his thoughts, hoping to gain a better sense, but Padmé was completely and utterly blank – the shield separating her cold exterior from her true feelings, whatever they were, was impenetrable. Chosen One or Sith'ari, he would get no help from the Force on this one. He was on his own.

The silence was deafening. Padmé remained still as she stared directly into Anakin's eyes, neither blinking or smiling. Anakin knew that he could not bear her expectant, soul-piercing gaze for much longer. Of course she knew he was lying - she always knew. He could not lie to her. It was both a curse and a blessing born of the love that they shared, one which had deepened and yet often strained their bond. So rather than lie, he had unfailingly done his best to hide the dark face of truth from her - until the pain such deception unfailingly caused them both grew so great that he could hide it no longer.

A wave of deep-set shame washed over him. After so many years of denying his destiny, he had finally found the strength to look inward, face it down, and truly make it his own. It was time for him to assert the accountability that came with that freedom. It was time for him to own up to the mistakes of his past, and accept the consequences, whatever they might be.

"You're right, Padmé," he said heavily. "I am."

Padmé blinked, briefly reflecting her surprise at the open acknowledgment of his deception. The surprise vanished quickly; her dark brown eyes sealed themselves with the same inscrutable hardness as before. "Why, Anakin?"

Anakin sighed, and set his gaze directly even with hers.

"Because I'm not sure that I'm strong enough to face the truth about what I did."

Padmé leaned back slightly in her chair. There was no mistaking the hurt which rose behind her eyes. "I see."

"I did a terrible thing, Padmé," Anakin admitted quietly. "Unforgiveable, by any reasonable standard. I didn't just betray you; by joining the Dark Side, joining Vader and the Emperor ... I betrayed everything you stand for."

Padmé said nothing, but by the fresh wave of pain in her eyes, Anakin knew that he was right. He continued, silently asking the Force to give him strength.

"My actions had consequences, Padmé - grave ones. They go deeper than you know, and they cannot be overlooked or dismissed. I do not deny it. Nor will I deny that I did them willingly, free of any coercion, if not of regret. I am not asking for you to forgive them, or even to understand. But I owe you an explanation. The reasoning for my actions ..."

"Anakin, stop." Padmé's voice cracked only slightly as she spoke, but for someone who always delivered her words with the confidence, directness, and passion that commanded the attention of worlds, it represented a truly striking loss of control. "I don't want to hear it."

"You need to hear it, Padmé," Anakin told her softly, his heart breaking within him as he beheld her now-openly anguished face. "You always deserve the truth, no matter how painful it may be. If I have learned nothing else out of this ordeal, I have learned that."

"Have you?" Padmé asked him sharply, her fierce gaze searing itself into his thoughts. "Have you really learned anything, Anakin? Let me guess - you did it to protect me, to save me from some vague shadow of death looming just over the horizon? You honestly thought, after all that we've been through, that you could make some kind of deal with the devil - that your soul was worth my life?"

Anakin hung his head, letting her bitter accusation wash over him. He knew he deserved it - moreover, she was right. That was _exactly_ what he had been thinking. He had been so concerned with her safety that he had been willing to pay any price, cost to his soul be damned. In doing so, he had committed exactly the same mistake that had led him to slaughter the Tuskens, to butcher Assaj Ventress, to seek out Palpatine in search of the power to restore life. It was a mistake born of arrogance, of short-sidedness, of fear, and each time, his choice had lead him not to salvation, but to another precipice, one which he had been all too willing to throw himself off of in pursuit of his foolish, ever-distant goal. It was that path that had been the source of nearly all his suffering, and led to his destiny merging with that of Darth Vader.

But Padmé was wrong about one thing: he _had_ learned. After years of fruitless torment, he had finally found the courage to break the ever-descending cycle by refusing to sacrifice Obi-Wan to the same false idol of promise which had claimed so much from him already. He had only managed to break the cycle when he had arrived at the one saving truth which had been living in his heart all along, the one thing that stood as the antithesis of Darth Vader: some things were above sacrifice.

"Anakin," Padmé said, her voice falling to a level barely above a whisper. "I want to trust you. But how can I do that if you won't trust me?"

Anakin looked up, his blue eyes glistening with tears.

"There's nothing I can say that will convince you to trust me, Padmé," he told her. "That's a decision that you have to make yourself. But, if you're willing, I would like the chance to tell you everything: what I did, why I did it ... everything. Not because it will change anything, either for us or for the galaxy, but because you deserve to know, and because I was wrong to keep it all from you. When I'm done, you can make your own judgment ... and whatever that judgment is, I will accept it. Even if it means that you never want to see me again. Will you give me that chance?"

Padmé said nothing. Anakin's heart beat faster and more painfully with every second. He had done what he needed to do to complete his path; all he could do now was to try and atone for his sins. If Padmé refused to grant him absolution, then there was nothing more he could do.

Still, she said nothing. She seemed to be warring with herself, genuinely torn over accepting the burden she had been offered to share. Anakin swallowed hard and made to stand up. "If you need some time ..."

"I'm listening, Anakin," Padmé steady voice cut him off unexpectedly. "Talk."

And so Anakin did, leaving no gaps and concealing no detail. He told her the full weight of the doubts, fear, and anger which had entrenched themselves in his heart since Obi-Wan's fall and the rise of the Empire five years ago. He told her of his visit to Dagobah to see Master Yoda and his venture into the cave. He told her everything he had seen and learned there; his encounter with Bane, the crushing revelation which the Dark Lord of the Sith had imparted to him, the shadows of the future that might have been. He told her the full nature of the prophecy of the Sith'ari, how it both mirrored and diverged from his destiny as the Jedi's Chosen One. He told her of the crushing guilt and anguish which had consumed him after learning that the terrible legacy of Darth Vader, the legacy which Obi-Wan had embraced and grown to embody, had always been meant to be his own.

He told her about his confrontation with Vader on the _Liberty_, how he had made the decision to stop running from the perceived inevitability of his destiny and subsequently bargained with the Dark Lord of the Sith to exchange his own life and freedom for hers and those of their children. He told her about his conversation with Vader in the Sith tomb on Korriban, how with the Dark Lord's guidance he had set aside his fears about the dark path before him and pledged to sacrifice anyone and anything necessary to rid the galaxy of the Emperor. He told her, with voice wavering and tears in his eyes, how he had reached out to her one last time with the Force, so sure in that heartbreaking moment that the only way to protect her light and their love from what he was about to become was to let her go.

Padmé let him talk, never interrupting or pulling away, though she tensed several times and her eyes grew steadily brighter with tears as he bared his soul to her. As he talked, Anakin felt as though the floodgates in the walls he had built around his heart were being pulled open, allowing a lifetime of fear, anger, hatred, suffering, guilt, and regret to pour out and be washed away. He could literally feel his soul becoming lighter as he shed the tormented burden he had carried and suffered under silently for so long was gradually left behind.

Pressing on, he told her as directly as he could all that he had done during his weeks of service to the Empire: collaborating with Vader to bring down their enemies on both sides of the war, commanding the Imperial Fleet, leading it against the Alliance at Corellia, capturing Garm Bel-Iblis and wiping his memory, dueling with and almost certainly killing Ferus Olin ... all of it leading up to his learning of her capture, his confrontation with the Emperor, his weakness in allowing Palpatine to manipulate him one more time, and their own bittersweet reunion. From that point on, she herself had seen first hand just how close he had come to embracing his innermost darkness forever. Rather than recount the agonizing events she had been forced to witness, he closed his confessions by describing his mindset during his duel with Darth Vader, the all-consuming rage and savage satisfaction which had flooded him after striking his former master down, the soul-shattering agony he had experienced after Qui-Gon had helped him to rediscover the truth of what he was about to do, the void of despair which it had lead him towards, and finally the nature of the simple, glorifying revelation which had ultimately saved him from the fate that had been written to be his over a thousand years ago.

When he had finished, Anakin let out a deep breath, sank back into his chair, and allowed his head to fall. He felt completely drained, like he had just run several hundred miles, but although the pain of the ordeal he had survived still lingered, it felt somehow more distant, like storm clouds rolling towards the horizon which had finally passed him by. He realized that he had desperately needed to do this; keeping the knowledge within had been a crushing weight pressing down on his soul. It might yet cost him everything that he held dear, but if he had kept the truth locked within him for much larger, it would have gradually driven him insane.

He could not bring himself to look at Padmé, though he knew that she was sitting still, silently processing everything that he had told her. Several moments passed, moments which as far as Anakin was concerned, stretched into an eternity. Finally, his wife spoke.

"Thank you, Anakin."

Anakin raised his head at the unexpected words, trying and failing to muster a smile. "What for?"

"For finally being honest with me," Padmé told him steadily. "This ... explains a lot for me. Thank you."

Anakin was uncertain whether to be relieved or terrified of the meaning behind Padmé's response. On one hand, she did not seem to be angry with him; her eyes held none of the fury, the contempt, the disgust which he had fully been expecting to see. On the other, her expression was unmistakably guarded and withdrawn, telling him unequivocally that she was hiding some measure of her true feelings from him. She looked and felt more distant than ever before. Anakin looked away again - until she gave him some further insight for good or ill, he could not stand to meet her gaze.

"I can leave, Padmé," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "If you need some time to decide what ... what this means for us, then I understand."

Padmé shook her head. "Stay," she told him. "I want to respond."

Anakin closed his eyes, unconsciously bracing himself. Though his heart was beating so fast now it was threatening to burst through his chest, he did his best to remain calm. He would not allow himself to hope, or to despair, before he knew the full depth of the judgment which awaited him.

"Anakin ..." Padmé said softly. "I won't pretend that what you just told me didn't make an impression. Some of it shocks me, some of it scares me, some of it makes me angry. I have to be honest - I never thought that you would be capable of doing some of the things that you say that you've done. This ... this changes you, Anakin ... it makes me wonder how much I really knew you before now ... if I ever really knew you at all."

It struck Anakin as odd that his heart had been beating so fast before; after those words, he felt as though his heart had vanished from his body all together. His eyes sealed themselves shut even tighter than before as every semblance of strength fled from him, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell. It was worse than he had feared; not only was she denouncing him, she was doing it without passion, without hesitation ... without love. She saw him not as her husband of eight years, but as a faceless, nameless stranger, a man who had caused her pain ... and nothing more.

"You don't need to say anything else, Padmé," he whispered brokenly. "I ... I understand ... really, I do. Once we land, I'll stay out of your way... you won't have to see me again ..."

"Anakin," Padmé said sharply, the sudden shift in her tone catching his attention. "What makes you say that?

Anakin opened his eyes, which were now clearly shining with tears. "You're right, Padmé ... you never knew me. The man you thought you knew would never have betrayed you like I did. You have every right to hate me ..."

"I don't hate you, Anakin!" Padmé exclaimed, leaning forward, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Is that what you think?"

Anakin forced himself to look up and meet her eyes. If his wife's face had not been angry before, it most certainly was now. "But you said ..."

"I said that I was shocked, that I was scared, that I was angry," Padmé interjected sharply, "and I meant what I said. But I _never_ said I hated you. If I'm feeling anything else right now, it's sadness ... because now I know what you've been living with all this time. You've suffered, Anakin ... God, I can't even imagine what it must have been like to endure knowing something like that, thinking that you were destined from birth to become a murderer ... to say nothing of keeping a burden like that secret for so long! If I had known, if you had told me sooner, I could have helped you with it. Anakin ... why didn't you trust me with this?"

"There wasn't anything that you could have done, Padmé," Anakin told her quietly. "It wasn't your burden to bear. I thought I could shield you from it, so that you wouldn't have to suffer too. I swore a sacred oath to protect you, and I fooled myself into thinking that's was what I doing."

"I swore that oath too, Anakin," Padmé reminded him. "I swore that I would always stand by your side, no matter how hard it was, and no matter who or what tried to tear us apart. You can't protect me from everything ... and I don't want you too. I'm strong enough to take a little adversity and emerge from it better for the struggle - which is more fortitude than you seem willing to get me credit for. For you to think that I could hate you for what you've done ... it's like you don't know _me_ at all, Anakin."

Anakin's throat seemed to be sealing itself off; he had to strain to force the next words past his lips. "But all that I've done ... you can't forget the terrible things ... I mean, I killed ..."

"I haven't," Padmé cut him off again. "I haven't, and I won't. I have to live with it now, just like you do ... but that's what I want, Anakin. I want to share your burdens, just like I want you to share mine. I want to be there for you, now and always, if only you'll let me. You said it yourself; what you did might be unforgiveable by any reasonable standard. But love isn't reasonable."

Anakin looked up, his eyes widening in confusion and doubt. "Padmé, you can't ... you can't just _forgive _me for all this ..."

"I can't grant you absolution, Anakin," Padmé told him. "Only you can do that, if you can make your peace with the Force. But remember what you said in the throne room? _Forgiveness is a lesson best learned by working together to create a better future_. Those were wise words, Anakin. The past is the past; it cannot be undone, it should not be forgotten, but it can be forgiven, and the best way for us to do that is to move forward, rebuild our lives, and raise our children together so that they can grow up and live better, happier, and quieter lives than we have."

Relief, disbelief, and overwhelming gratitude flooded Anakin like a tidal wave. Unexpectedly, unconsciously, the first real smile in several long hours rose to his face, lifting with it his heart, body, and spirit, all with virtually no effort at all. "Amen to that."

"Just promise me one thing, Anakin," Padmé said quietly. Anakin's heart nearly broke as he saw the light mist of tears which had previously been visible in her eyes was now hovering on her lashes, threatening to fall. "And if you say it, I want you to mean it."

Anakin's left hand unconsciously drifted up from his side towards his wife's face to preemptively catch the tears. He stopped himself just short. "Anything, Padmé."

Padmé's mouth trembled ever so slightly as she fought to maintain her miraculous control and composure for just one agonizing moment longer.

"Never, ever, _ever_ do something like that again."

Anakin's heart swelled so much it hurt as he allowed all the honesty, faith, and love he possessed to pour into his words. "I promise, Angel. With everything I am, I promise."

Padmé coughed slightly, choking back what might have been a sob. Her eyes shone like distant stars from the light within them, light that was now flowing freely down her cheeks. Anakin's hand moved the final few centimeters to touch her smooth skin, thumb reaching out to brush away a single graceful tear.

"Thank you, Padmé," he whispered gently. "I don't think I could have gone on, thinking that you didn't love me."

"I love you," Padmé said softly, "That has never changed, and it never will. So get used to it, Skywalker."

"I love you too, Padmé," Anakin whispered reverently, the tears flowing freely down his own face now. "More than you can ever know."

A radiant smile rose onto Padmé's face, bathing Anakin's heart with light. He leaned in across the last remaining space between them and pressed his aching, yearning lips to hers. Padmé leaned in strongly and returned the kiss, pouring into it all the love, faith, trust, and hope which Anakin had believed lost to him forever. With the smallest part of his mind which was not completely and blissfully blank, he tried to make sense of how this had happened, how despite all his sins, despite how close he had come to losing everything, he had managed to hold on to the one thing that mattered most. Yet the wisest part of him knew it was a lost cause ... because as his Angel had said, love wasn't reasonable. He might not understand it, he might not deserve it, but none of it mattered. In that moment, nothing mattered ... except her.

When husband and wife finally broke apart several minutes later, they remained close, foreheads lightly resting together, neither one willing to be the first one to pull away. Both were slightly out of breath, but as Anakin finally opened his eyes to Padmé's loving gaze, he couldn't help but laugh. Padmé joined in, and the two of them let the tension which had hung over them throughout their entire weighty deliberation simply slide away. Once they had dismissed the last traces of toxic doubt to faint memory, Anakin smiled.

"Don't tell him I said this, Padmé ... but Obi-Wan was right. I'm exhausted. "

"You damn well should be," Padmé shot back, matching his smile. "You dueled Darth Vader nearly to your death, took down the Emperor of the entire galaxy, somehow brought Obi-Wan back to life and to the light, and then had to sit down and explain it all to your wife. That's a lot for a day's work, even for you."

"You haven't exactly been laying out on the beach yourself," Anakin admonished her. "Breaking into the Emperor's palace, leading a revolution to free the galaxy ... I think you get some rest too."

"I used to work sixteen hour days alongside the galaxy's most obstinate politicians," Padmé told him teasingly. "I've got stamina you can't even dream about, Anakin. That said, a soft bed does sound good right about now."

"Well then ..." Anakin said brightly, his smile widening even further. "Shall we?"

Padmé laughed, a clear sound like the ringing of a morning bell. "If you insist."

The two of them rose up out of their chairs and began to make their way towards the door. As they walked, Anakin's smile morphed into a mischievous grin.

"You know, Padmé, it might be a good idea for us to find separate bunks ... otherwise neither of us will be getting any rest at all."

"Oh, get a grip on yourself, Anakin!" Padmé chided him playfully. "There'll be plenty of time for that when we're _not_ on a stolen Imperial shuttle with two Jedi Masters in one room and your recently reincarnated former master the other. Can you imagine what they would say if they caught us?"

"It might be worth it, just to see the expression on Master Windu's face," Anakin chuckled, conjuring up an image of the Jedi Master's mortified expression in his mind. "He's falling a bit behind the curve ... I think we need to get him a girl."

"You have _no_ sense of shame, do you, Anakin?" Padmé asked him, sounding faintly exasperated - nevertheless, she appeared to be struggling to hold back a laugh. "Tell you what ... we'll look into it after we have a little bit of time to go out a few times and brush up on the art of romance ourselves. As things are now, we're both a bit out of practice ... I doubt either one of us could pick up a date at a bar, good looks or not."

Anakin looked down at his wife, happiness welling up within him once more.

"You really a master of negotiation, Padmé ... you've got my vote for Chief of State, if we can ever get a working government together after all of this."

Padmé smiled, but shook her head, a sad look entering her eyes. "There's only one job I want right now, Anakin ... and that's the job of mother. I'm afraid it's a job I haven't been doing very well over these past five years."

"You haven't had much chance," Anakin told her gently. "For that matter, I haven't had much chance to be a father. But I've seen you - you're amazing with Luke and Leia ... and with Jadon too. You'll have everything in hand in no time. And I'll figure it out ... eventually."

Padmé sighed and leaned in to rest her head on Anakin's shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Anakin. We always do."

It was only as they made to exit the cockpit together that Anakin noticed that throughout the entire length of their discussion, Padmé had never once let go of his hand.

**************************************************

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he leaned back onto the narrow, thinly-padded cot in the shuttle's sparse medical bay. It felt extremely strange, attempting to rest in such a position. For five long years, he had slept in full armor, upright in a sterile hyperbaric chamber, hooked up to an extensive array of machines monitoring everything from his blood pressure to his solute balance to his overall body temperature. He had almost forgotten that ordinary human beings needed to lie down to in order to drift off at night.

In fact, the entire concept of _rest_ seemed oddly foreign to him; his former existence had not exactly been conducive to maintaining anything resembling a normal resting pattern. As the Dark Lord of the Sith, there had always been matters, at any given hour of the day or night, which required his personal attention. The sun was always rising somewhere in the galaxy on some brewing conflict, and he had made it his personal mission to be there whenever possible, fist closed and lightsaber drawn, ruthlessly choking off the dissent before it could truly cross the horizon to trouble the Empire's new dawn.

As time had gradually worn by, he had found himself sleeping less and less, to the point where he could go for over three weeks without resting. He had told himself that it was necessity that drove him; if allowed himself to give into weakness and rest, then some distant threat to the safety and integrity of his New Order would rise up to become a serious, full-bodied menace. Deep down, however, he had known that it was more a function of his growing inhumanity, the unnatural nature of his very existence. The whispering tendrils of the dark side and the cold metal circuitry which kept him alive had seamlessly intertwined with one another, gradually stifling all memory and feeling until nothing remained but an eternally restless soul entombed in an otherwise empty prison, truly more machine than man.

Obi-Wan let out a shallow breath, not minding the lingering pain it caused him. It was appropriate that he feel pain; pain was an appropriate reminder of the place he occupied in the Force and in the galaxy. As Darth Vader, pain had been the only thing he had known; the Dark Lord had willingly and constantly sought pain out; to live in it, to embody it, to flourish in it. He, as Obi-Wan Kenobi, might not have the same legendary tolerance for pain that Vader had possessed, but he had endured every bit as much of it, if not more, and experienced suffering far worse than the Sith Lord could ever have imagined. Trapped beneath the crushing layers of darkness, watching his friends and loved ones suffer on his account, had been a torment that had rent the very fabric of his soul in two. Deprived of life and almost all hope, he had nearly given up and allowed himself to slip away.

But he had found the strength to endure, and with Anakin's help, he had returned. In doing so, he had accepted the intrinsic challenge that would accompany his renewal; living with and accepting the dark shadows of his past. It would not be easy, for while Darth Vader had gone, his presence had left a lasting imprint which would continue to be felt in all walks of life across the galaxy, from the greatest to the most mundane. The healing to be done would always need to pass through the lens of what had been lost ... and for him this paradox would be amplified most of all. Even the smallest things, like the simple miracle of being able to breathe on his own once more, would be tempered by the knowledge of what his legacy and ultimately now his redemption would cost him, a price that he had yet to truly pay.

He was ready to meet that challenge, no matter how steep it appeared or how painful it would be. He had been resigned to the idea that there was no way for him to return, that all his bridges were burned, but his friends had shown him that the last window to back to the light had always been open for him, if only he had the courage to venture forward and take the first step. He would not have agreed to come back and risk a life of suffering if he were not finally ready to believe them. It was time that he justified the faith that they all had shown in him. It was time for him once more to take that first step into the unknown and, slowly but surely, begin to heal.

Still, Obi-Wan mused, his thoughts resolving themselves once more to his immediate situation, this business of laying down was an adjustment that was going to take some getting used to. Truth be told, he would have preferred to attempt the trance he was about to enter from a sitting position, but Sabé had firmly insisted that he lie down, and Obi-Wan did not have the heart to refuse her.

Speaking of Sabé ...

"Are you comfortable?" Obi-Wan smiled as Sabé's anxious voice drifted into his thoughts. She was standing over him, carefully monitoring his every movement for any sign of pain or trouble. Her care and concern enveloped him through the Force like a familiar blanket, warm and soft to the touch. The sensation was soothing, blissfully peaceful, easily wiping away his previous troubled thoughts. It had been _years_ since he had felt anything like that ... truly remarkable.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to gaze upon the face of the woman he loved. "Yes, I'm very comfortable, Sabé. Thank you."

Sabé's face remained knit with worry and apprehension; unconsciously, she teased her lower lip as she sought to some way to alleviate her own concealed distress. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head silently as he looked lovingly into her anxious, chocolate-brown eyes. God, her eyes ... how could he have ever forgotten how beautiful they were? How could he have forgotten anything about her ... her elegant features, her graceful presence, her quiet strength? Even as nervous, uncertain, and disheveled as she was, she remained to him the very picture of radiance. He saw none of the trivial flaws or shortcomings - only elegance, grace, and goodness, like heaven's fire captured and held within a transparent vessel ... as close to perfection as any mortal could ever come. For the first time, he was to a very small degree grateful for the respirator implanted in his chest, as he was consciously having to remember to breathe.

How could he have forgotten _her_? He had first met this amazing, kind-hearted, beautiful woman eighteen years ago, only then he had not realized just how special she truly was. After their parting, throughout all those years leading up to the fateful moment when she had walked back into his life, he had been missing something, but still, so focused he was on his life as a Jedi, he had not truly understood. The revelation, when his eyes had finally opened to her long-suffering love, had fundamentally altered his perception of his place in the world and the very course of his destiny. So intense it had been that, although their time together had been unconscionably brief, the fire that had been awakened in his soul had driven out almost everything else, sustaining him on the strength of its memory alone. Throughout those long months of captivity in the claws of General Grievous, believing himself betrayed and abandoned by the Jedi, he had clung to her memory as his one remaining light, an incorruptible force of good that could not be suppressed or taken away.

And yet ... it had not been enough. Immersed in the heart of the darkness, beset by fear and lies at every turn, he had not been strong enough to hold on. He had fallen, and he had lost her. Darth Vader, the being which had been born from his loss, his ruin, had no need for her - to him, she was a weakness, a liability, a distraction from his dark and uncompromising purpose. When it had become clear to him that she was an impediment to his vision of subjecting the galaxy to a vengeful justice, he had coldly and remorselessly cast her aside. His love for her had seemed to be, as he had deemed it then, a necessary sacrifice.

Obi-Wan's heart swelled within his chest as he took in every detail of Sabé's face. She had suffered so much because of him ... and yet when he had finally given her the opportunity to repay him in kind, she had forgiven him almost immediately. Furthermore, she was unquestionably defending him on all fronts, evidently wanting nothing more than to put the past behind them and work towards rebuilding the future which fate had so callously stolen from them. It was a heartbreaking dream, almost tragic in its ambition, for that future, Obi-Wan knew, was far from secure. When the citizen of the galaxy at large finally discovered the truth about what had happened, the sins which he had committed against them, they would want justice, and rightly so. When that time came, he would have no choice but to willingly hand himself over them, leaving Sabé once more with a broken heart.

It overwhelmed all sensibility that she would be willing to take that chance, knowing full well how likely it was that he would end up hurting her again. The devotion, the trust, the unrestrained _acceptance_ which he saw when he looked in her eyes was almost too much for him to take. Closing his eyes again, Obi-Wan had to force down the wave of utter and complete self-loathing that had pervaded his core. His arrogance, his anger, his uncontrollable need for revenge ... they had cost him a lifetime with this woman, and now from beyond the void they were threatening to take him away from her again. In that moment, the Jedi Master swore to himself a solemn and unbreakable oath: while he would not shield himself from whatever justice awaited him when the moment came, he would devote everything that he was... heart, soul, and broken body ... until that time to Sabé, in the faint but eternal hope that he might in some way prove himself worthy of the incredible faith and love she had blessed him with - even when he had been too deeply wrapped in the darkness to see.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw that Sabé was still gazing at him intently.

The previous sense of apprehension which sensed around her had not yet dissipated - in fact, it had intensified, as some hidden struggle deep within her was forcing itself to the surface. Could she have been thinking along much of the same lines that he had?

He tried to put as much care and support into his voice as he could muster. "Yes, Sabé?"

"Obi-Wan, before you start your trance, I ... I need to tell you something."

"That's perfect, then," Obi-Wan told her, offering her a smile. "I have something I need to tell you as well."

"You do?" Sabé seemed surprised. "Would ... would you like to go first?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. Whatever Sabé wanted to tell him, it was clearly causing her a great deal of distress ... he wanted to alleviate her suffering as soon as possible. Furthermore, he wanted her to know that whatever it was, it would not in any way change the sentiments that he was about to voice. "No, please ... you first."

Relief poured off of Sabé through the Force; she offered him a small smile of gratitude which set his heart racing. The smile quickly vanished, however, as anxiety took hold once more.

"I ... don't really know how to say this," she said quietly. "You ... I don't know how you're going to react. God, you might not even want ... I mean, when I found out, _I_ was shocked, but still ... Obi-Wan, it's ... I ..."

Obi-Wan reached out with his one remaining hand and gently enfolded Sabé's smooth fingers in his own. "Sabé, it's all right," he said soothingly, gently putting the weight of the Force behind his words. "Just tell me."

"All right." Sabé took a deep breath and nodded. Setting her slender shoulders, she put on her bravest face and looked directly into the Jedi Master's eyes. "Obi-Wan ... you have a son."

Obi-Wan's smile widened into a broad, heartfelt grin. "I know."

"You _know_?" Sabé's entire body went rigid with shock; the look of disbelief which paralyzed her face was one for the ages. "What ... how could you know?"

The grin was still lighting up Obi-Wan's face, and his heart had swelled to the point that he thought it might burst. He had known that sooner or later Sabé would want to tell him about Jadon, and he had already decided what his response would be. He had to admit, it was extremely gratifying to watch Sabé as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his revelation; he knew that once the shock wore off and he had a chance to explain what had transpired, she would appreciate his honesty.

"Anakin told me."

"_Anakin_ told you?" Sabé's mouth opened, and then snapped shut abruptly - she seemed to be struggling for words. "When? Wait ..." the shock in her eyes finally disappeared, replaced by deep concern and a noticeable hint of fear. "Did he ... did he tell you when the two of you were ... before ... ?"

"No." Obi-Wan shook his head, and Sabé sank noticeably lower in her chair as relief flooded her. "No, Anakin did not betray your trust, Sabé. Vader never knew, and neither did the Emperor. Anakin told me when he was reaching to me to through the Force ... after both of them were gone."

"Oh." Sabé fell silent for a long moment. Suddenly, the anxiety returned to her face, more noticeable than ever. "When he told you, what did you ... I mean ..."

Obi-Wan smiled, warmth emanating from his eyes. "It was how he brought me back."

The emotion which radiated off Sabé when Obi-Wan's words reached her could not be fully contained or even described; it was a turbulent, overwhelming mix of surprise, gratitude, excitement, and transcendent, soaring joy. It saturated the Force around them, setting every cell in Obi-Wan's body on fire. He worked hard to maintain his composure - he did want to break down and cry in from of Sabé. She might misconstrue them, and besides, she had seen enough tears over the past several years. Now was the time for him to offer her the happiness she so desperately deserved.

Leaning in close enough for him to feel her sweet breath on his skin, Sabé looked at him even more intensely than before. "What else did he tell you?"

Obi-Wan squeezed her hand strongly. "He told me that our son's name is Jadon, that he's almost five years old, that he wants to be pilot, and that he looks extraordinarily like his mother."

A brilliant smile rose to her face, lighting up the entire room. "His father's eyes though ... I'm sure Anakin didn't leave that out."

Obi-Wan shrugged, his own blue-grey eyes twinkling visibly. "He might have mentioned something about that."

"He's so much like you, Obi-Wan," Sabé whispered. "Everything about him. He's been my world these past five years, and I've done everything I can for him, but ..."

Obi-Wan reached up and placed his metallic gloved hand on Sabé's chin, gently lifting it up so that he could see her face. "You did a wonderful job raising him, Sabé ... Anakin told me how much you've given up for him. I can see it in your eyes just how much you love him. Jadon is very, very lucky to have you as his mother."

Sabé met Obi-Wan's impassioned stare evenly, her eyes shining with emotion and all trace of hesitation gone from her voice. "He needs his father, Obi-Wan. He needs you. I can't teach him everything. Anakin and Padmé have been an incredible help, you should see how much Jadon looks up to Anakin ... but even then something's missing, and now that the war's over, Luke and Leia will be coming home, so they'll have their own family to look after ..."

Her voice caught as she struggled to maintain his gaze. "Obi-Wan, _please _... I can't do this alone anymore."

Obi-Wan strained and lifted his entire upper body off of the mat, resting on his elbows so that he was directly on level with the woman he loved. "You have every reason not to trust me, Sabé," he said strongly, conviction ringing in every syllable. "But if you believe nothing else that I tell you, believe this. You _won't_ have to do it alone anymore. I'm here. I'm here, and damn it, I'm not going anywhere. I may not know what it takes to be a good father - I'll be honest, I don't have the faintest clue - but I'm willing to learn, no matter what it takes. I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to be there, because I love you, I love our son, and no force in this galaxy, for good or ill, is going to take me away from the two of you again."

Sabé looked at him, openly staring through her now freely-flowing tears. Sensing that this time, she really was at a loss for words, Obi-Wan decided to reinforce his message. He reached down, took Sabé's hand in his once more, and tenderly pressed his lips to her cool, smooth skin. He allowed them to linger there for a moment, then gently turned her hand over to reveal the underside of her wrist. Leaning in once more, he placed an equally tender kiss on the spot where her veins conducted her lifeblood just underneath her skin.

A soft breath escaped from Sabé lips; her eyes were closed. As easily as he could, Obi-Wan pushed himself up still further until he was in a sitting position. His body painfully protested the movement, but he unconsciously shut out the response as he leaned in still closer towards Sabé, now gently kissing her soft, tear-stained cheek. Her skin was gradually getting warmer as he moved along her body, and the salty residue left behind by her tears tasted almost sweet. Her slow breath passed over his ear, sending a warm shiver down his spine.

Bracing himself, Obi-Wan moved the few remaining centimeters to the left. This time, Sabé leaned in as well, helping him close the final distance and bringing their aching lips together. As soon as they touched, the very same fire which had remained dormant but not forgotten in Obi-Wan's chest for so many years came to life once more in an astounding blaze of glory, sending an incandescent burst of heat down every remaining nerve. The lingering pain plaguing his body vanished instantaneously, replaced by a euphoria that could not be measured. The Force itself danced through his veins more freely than he could ever remember, reflecting the blaze of renewed life which was circulating through him, and through her as well. On this transcendent plane of existence, the two of them were indistinguishable, any remaining illusion of separation between them now and forever forgotten.

Eventually, their moment ran its course, and Obi-Wan drew back, opening his eyes. He smiled when he saw that Sabé's eyes remained closed, and that her skin was flushed with color. He said nothing at all, content to simply watch her for a long moment before she finally allowed her deep brown orbs to shine on him once more.

"Wow," she whispered softly. "That was ... something else."

Obi-Wan's smile widened and he let out a deep breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Yeah."

"Maybe you should come back to me from the dead more often."

Obi-Wan laughed. "I'll try ... but only once every five years, so you'll have to have to wait until then."

Sabé laughed and reached down to take his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. Obi-Wan squeezed them gently, and Sabé's face became serious.

"I love you too, Obi-Wan," she said fervently. "And I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear you say that ... especially what you said about Jadon. Anakin's told him all the stories of your adventures across the galaxy, so he knows a lot about you. You're already his hero, Obi-Wan, and when he finally gets to meet you, it won't be any time at all before he loves you as his father. You've already been an important part of his life."

Obi-Wan smiled at Sabé's words, but could not halt the hint of trepidation that crept into his soul. "That's what I'm afraid of, Sabé. If you and Anakin have been telling him all these stories about me as a hero, then Jadon's expectations of me are to be astronomically high - I'm never going to be able to live up to them. I don't want him growing up amidst lies, thinking that his father was above fault. He'll learn the truth one day, Sabé, and when he does, it will be devastating for him. I don't want him to think that I didn't care about him enough to prepare him for the burden of his legacy. I ... I don't want him to hate me when I let him down."

It was Sabé's turn to squeeze his hand. She stared directly into Obi-Wan's tormented blue-grey eyes, love and strength mixing with seriousness in her gaze. "We'll deal with that when it comes, Obi-Wan. One day, we _will_ need to help Jadon confront the truth, but it would not be wise or kind for us to burden him with it now. He's still a child, and children all have their heroes to look up to, people they revere unconditionally and strive to emulate. Over time, the world teaches them to shed their illusions that their heroes are perfect and accept them as who they are. Jadon's still young enough that he can afford to see the world in black and white, and knowing the difference between good and evil will help him figure out who he really is. When he's ready, he'll seek out the truth for himself, and in doing so, he'll learn to love you for who _you_ are ... not as the great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi or the Sith Lord Darth Vader, but as his father. That's just a normal part of growing up."

Obi-Wan gave Sabé a deep and grateful smile. She was right, of course she was. Ever practical, she always knew how to remain on level and approach a problem from the right angle, one step at time. He remembered her exhibiting that same degree of patient tactical sensibility while fighting alongside her to liberate the Theed Palace on Naboo from the Trade Federation. Impersonating the Queen, she had successfully drawn the fire of the droid armies time after time, allowing Padmé to slip past the guard and fulfill their real mission. Now she was successfully drawing away the demons grasping at his thoughts, enabling him to focus on what was truly important: connecting with his son.

"Thank you, Sabé," he told her softly. "I guess I'm just nervous. When I meet him, when I talk to him for the first time face to face ... I won't know what to say."

Sabé looked at him seriously. "Would you like to talk to him now?"

Obi-Wan's heart jumped into his throat, and he started visibly. "What ... I mean, yes ... but how?"

"Reach out to him with the Force," Sabé told him. "Jadon hasn't been trained, obviously, but Anakin's shown him enough that he knows how to control his power to a rudimentary extent. If you talk to him, he'll hear you."

Obi-Wan stared openly at her, surprised once more at the level of trust she was showing in the Force ... and in him. He had expected to have days, possibly even weeks, to think about what he would say the first time he spoke to Jadon. There was so much that he needed to tell him, and he was terrified of what would happen if he said something wrong. You only got one chance to make a first impression, after all, and he had been out of this boy's life for an unforgivably long time. If he missed this chance, Jadon might push him away, and he would never get to be a part of his son's future. The thought broke Obi-Wan's heart.

The Jedi Master found himself silently agonizing over the choice before him. Yes, he desperately wanted to finally make contact with his son. He wanted it more than anything in the world. But did he really trust himself to do it now, when he was so weak and unprepared?

"Obi-Wan, please," Sabé implored, gently drawing him out of his reverie. "It will mean the world to Jadon, and if you don't do it now, you might not get another chance for weeks. I have faith in you. Please try."

_I have faith in you._ Those words infused Obi-Wan with a new strength, one that he would never have been able to muster on his own. He took a deep breath, then nodded. "All right."

Sabé took his hand, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, withdrawing deeply into the Force. Though he had not even been aware of Jadon's existence until a few hours ago, it was easy for him to trace the boy in the Force by following the bright new signature which had already embedded itself in his soul. In what felt like no time at all, he found his consciousness floating in what appeared to be a darkened bedroom. He turned his attention to the closest bed and immediately his soul lurched with recognition. Lying there beneath the covers was a young boy, about four and a half years old, with a round face and a tousled mane of dark curly hair. The boy's features – his nose, his dark, thin eyebrows, his high cheekbones - bore an achingly similar resemblance to those of his mother. It was Jadon.

Obi-Wan could feel his heart racing, even immersed as he was in the soothing currents of the Force. Jadon was breathing evenly and deeply. An impish smile was resting on the corners of his lips even as he slept. Anakin had mentioned that Jadon had an enormous amount of energy and, from all accounts, could be quite the trouble-seeking adventurer. Obi-Wan smiled as he envisioned his son running circles around Anakin until his apprentice fell to his knees, begging the boy to let him catch his breath, or hiding in some hard-to-reach place, giggling to himself while his exasperated mother combed through every nook and corner trying to find him. He imagined her finding him at last, tucking him into bed, giving him a kiss on the forehead, followed by Anakin stopping in to tell him a story, tousle his hair, and turn out the light, perhaps turning to give him one last look before he exited the room and left the boy to his dreams.

This was what he had been missing, those aching moments of normalcy, moments which he never could have envisioned himself in but which now he longed for like nothing ever before. He found he had absolutely no desire to wake his son, even to talk to him. He did not want to be the one disrupt Jadon when he was so at peace - not for anything in the galaxy.

He did not know how long he would have simply remained still, watching his son peacefully slumber, had not the boy, without any prompting whatsoever, suddenly begun to stir. He seemed to have unconsciously become aware that something was different, perhaps prompted by some hidden impulse from the Force. Obi-Wan's already racing heartbeat reached leapt to a dangerously high level as Jadon pushed the covers away from his neck and sat up, his mind frantically casting about for something, anything ...

The boy opened his eyes and Obi-Wan's racing heart abruptly stopped: the piercing blue-grey orbs were identical to his own - the only difference was that they still contained a vibrant spark of eager innocence which he had lost many, many years ago. Jadon peered sleepily through the darkness, scanning the shadows. "Who's there?"

The boy's voice sent a paralyzing signal to Obi-Wan - there was no turning back now. The die had been cast, his son was waiting for him – ready or not, he needed to respond. Mustering all his strength and will, he forced his dry and scratched throat to form the blessed word.

"Jadon?"

Jadon blinked several times. "Uncle Ani, is that you? Aunt Padmé said that you'd gone away!"

"Jadon ..." Obi-Wan said hoarsely, "Jadon, it's ... it's your father."

Jadon sat up to his full height, a note of surprise, confusion, and wonder melding together in his voice. "My ... father?"

Obi-Wan nodded painfully, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Yes."

Jadon's eyes widened, and he began searching the darkness even more intently. "Where are you?"

Obi-Wan was standing directly in his son's line of vision - he realized that Jadon must not be able to see him. He felt subconsciously relieved - he didn't want Jadon's first visual image of him to be of a bald, pale, gravely injured man encased in the crushing black armor of the galaxy's most-feared Sith Lord. "I'm not there with you, Jadon. I'm on a ship traveling through hyperspace, using the Force to communicate with you, like Uncle Ani does sometimes."

"You're on a ship?" Jadon's eyes lit up in the darkness, excitement filling his voice. "Is it yours? How fast is it?"

"Very fast," Obi-Wan told him, an invisible smile rising onto his face. Jadon really _did_ love to fly, then. "Actually, it's not mine ... it belonged to a very bad man, and your Uncle Ani and I sort of borrowed it from him without permission."

Jadon laughed, a clear sound which sent a warm flush shooting down every nerve in Obi-Wan's body. "Uncle Ani says that a lot. Mama and Aunt Padmé get mad when he does, though."

"I'll bet they do," Obi-Wan said warmly. Subconsciously, he noted that his heart rate was settling and his nervousness had completely faded away - he was completely stunned at how easy it was becoming for him to talk to the boy. "This time though, your Mom and Aunt Padmé gave their permission, so it's OK."

Jadon's head perked up again. "Is Mama with you now?"

Obi-Wan smiled, ignoring the heat building at the corners of his eyes. "Yes she is, Jadon. So are Uncle Ani and Aunt Padmé. We're all together again. "

Jadon's entire body was practically quivering now; his tone now could barely contain his eagerness. "Are you coming home?"

The heat in Obi-Wan's eyes redoubled; his vision blurred slightly and the lump which he had successfully forced out of his throat earlier immediately rose up again, more prominent than before. "Yes I am, Jadon. I'm finally coming home, only ... only not right away. Your Mother and I ... and Uncle Ani and Aunt Padmé ... we have something we have to do first."

Jadon's face fell and he seemed to deflate slightly, the eagerness disappearing from his face along with his bright smile. Obi-Wan felt his heart threaten to splinter into a million little pieces; the pain that had flooded him when he saw his son's disappointment was more than he could stand. "Jadon," he pleaded desperately, "Listen to me."

Jadon looked up again, his blue-grey eyes shining from within. Hope rising again, Obi-Wan pressed on.

"I'm coming soon, you hear me? The minute we've finished what we need to do, I'm coming straight to you, and nothing's going to stop me. You've been so brave, Jadon, and so patient, waiting so long. You won't have to wait any longer. I'm coming to you, and when I get there, I'm never going to leave you again. I haven't been there for you for the past few years, but I'm going to be there from now on. That's a promise, and I swear it on my life."

Jadon sniffed slightly. "Will you show me how to fly?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, if that's what you want. Anything you want to do, we can do; anywhere you want to go, we can go. I've got a lot to make up for, and I'm willing to do whatever I can to make it right."

Jadon nodded in understanding, wiping the corner of his eye with his sleeve. He looked back up and the earnestness in his gaze seared Obi-Wan's very soul.

"Soon?"

"Soon," Obi-Wan told him solemnly. "Jadon ... I love you so much. You're going to be hearing that a lot from me when I see you, and you'll probably get sick of it really fast, but you're just going to have to put up with me for a while. I love you, and with everything I am, I mean it. Please know that, Jadon. Please know that I mean it."

Jadon nodded and lay back down on the pillow, a smile rising back onto his rounded face - the same smile which he had been wearing when Obi-Wan had first laid eyes on him. "I love you too, Father."

With that, Jadon settled into his pillow and closed his eyes, drifting peacefully back off to sleep. As he did, Obi-Wan felt himself sliding away, back along the currents of the Force, back through light-years of space and time, until he settled back once more into his own body, drifting through hyperspace in the medical wing of a stolen Imperial shuttle, Sabé at his side.

`"Obi-Wan?" Sabé asked anxiously, squeezing his hand tightly. "How was it? Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan looked up at her, the tears which had been stinging his eyes throughout his entire conversation with his son now willingly and freely flowing down his face.

"He called me 'Father'," he choked out softly. "He said he l-loved ..."

The hidden source strength which had miraculously been aiding him was suddenly gone, and Obi-Wan was unable to continue. Sabé reached over and enfolded him in her arms. She said nothing at all but remained silently understanding as Obi-Wan, unable to contain himself any longer, allowed himself to cry heavily into her shoulder, every emotion which been tumultuously swirling within him since his return rushing finally unrestrained to the surface. Guilt, fear, anger, worry, despair, passion, happiness and above all, gratitude, detached themselves from his soul and slid silently into the crystal vessels falling from his eyes. One by one, he let them all go.

After a long while, he was relieved to find that he could not cry any more. He looked up and gently extricated himself from Sabé's tender embrace, noticing as he did so that the woman he loved was subtly wiping away a few tears of her own. Sabé, noticing him looking, quickly offered up a smile.

"Do you feel better now?"

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully at her and let out a shallow sigh. "I feel exhausted," he told her truthfully. "If I didn't need that healing trance before, I definitely need it now."

Sabé nodded in understanding. "You should get to it right away. Come on, I'll help you."

Once again, she assisted the injured Jedi Master in lying down. Obi-Wan fleetingly noticed that the position did not feel so strange to him now - or maybe he was just too tired at the moment to let it bother him. As soon as his head hit the mat, he felt the Force reached out to him of its own accord, bathing his body in its rejuvenating currents. Dark clouds began to coalesce at the corners of his vision, condensing around the one remaining light hovering above him ...

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan heard Sabé's voice from a great distance, and consciously sought to hold off the blissful healing embrace for just one moment longer. "Yes?"

"I'm so sorry - before all this, you said that you had something you wanted say to tell me?"

Obi-Wan smiled peacefully. "I already did."

Sabé's own smile lit up the entire room. "Tell me again."

"I love you, Sabé," the redeemed Jedi Knight told her earnestly, "and you will never lose me again, for as long as we both shall live."

With that undying proclamation of faith, Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes and effortlessly allowed himself to be borne away once more into the eternally forgiving cycle of renewing life.

**************************************************

Thousands of light-years away on Naboo, a new day was breaking over the city of Theed, the first day in over five years not overshadowed by the oppression of the Empire. The first rays of the soft morning sun filtered their way through the dawn clouds of fog to fall upon the small house overlooking a quiet lane on the outskirts of the capital. The light drifted almost lazily through an open window on the east side of the residence, casting an ambient glow on a small, cozily furnished room and coming to rest on the faces of three small, peacefully sleeping children peaking out from beneath the covers of their beds. As the light reached them, Luke stirred slowly, while Leia turned over and hid her face more deeply in the pillow. Alas, the twin's unconscious attempts to ward off the call to rise were not to succeed, for a few short moments later the door to their room banged open and their cousins, Ryoo and Pooja, bounded through the door, their long dark hair trailing behind them as if caught in the wind.

"Wake up, sleepyheads!"

"Come on, rise and shine, we made you breakfast!"

Luke groaned audibly and tried to draw his pillow up over his face. Ryoo moved over and deftly snatched it away from him while Pooja raced over to Leia and began tickling her remorselessly until the little girl, beset by uncontrollable giggles, had no choice but roll out of bed to escape the menace.

"Come on you two, up and at 'em!" Ryoo said mock-seriously, folding her arms and doing a remarkably good impression of her aunt when she was in no mood for nonsense. "School's cancelled for us today, so we thought we would make you a special breakfast to celebrate, but it'll go cold if you don't get downstairs right now!"

At the doorway, Sola Nabberrie stood still, smiling broadly as she watched her daughters do their best to marshal the sleepy-eyed Skywalker twins into consciousness. Seeing them interact with Padmé's children, and so naturally too ... it was just as she had always pictured it. She only wished that her younger sister could be here to see this now, but she was doubtlessly caught up in resolving some business or another stemming from the Alliance's welcome, unexpected, and hard-fought victory. Soon, though, she would be free to return home, and when she did, Sola firmly intended to join her mother in helping to convince Padmé to take some serious time off. She hadn't been home in years - it had been far too dangerous for a leader of the Alliance to try and pay a visit to a homeworld that she happened to share with the Emperor of the galaxy. Now that the war was over, Sola couldn't wait to grill her sister on everything that had happened since their last meeting - particularly her marriage to Anakin. Sola's smile widened mischievously as she thought of the handsome Jedi protector who had accompanied Padmé to their house eight years ago, who Padmé had so strongly had asserted was only a friend. She was going to greatly enjoy teasing her until Padmé was flushed in the face and forced to acknowledge that her big sister had been right all along.

Meanwhile, Ryoo and Pooja had successfully roused Luke and Leia and were now turning their attentions to the third occupant of the room - Jadon Kenobi. Here, however, they were encountering some difficulty, as young Jadon remained deeply and soundly asleep. None of their poking and prodding had drawn so much as a batted eye.

"Shall we just lift him out of bed?" Pooja boldly suggested. "He'll have to wake up then."

Sola stepped forward. "Here, darling, why don't you let me try? The two of you can go down and help Luke and Leia set their plates. Make sure Grandma and Grandpa are up too - you know Grandpa doesn't move as well as he used too."

Ryoo and Pooja shrugged, then took Luke and Leia's hands and guided them out of the room towards the kitchen, leaving the still-sleeping Jadon to the mercy of their mother.

Sola walked over and gently sat down at the edge of Jadon's bed. Reaching out, she gently brushed a lock of curly hair away from the young boy's face. To her surprise, Jadon stirred immediately, opening his blue-grey eyes to stare clearly at her. "Morning, Aunt Sola."

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said teasingly. "You have a good dream?"

Jadon kept looking at her, a contented smile forming on his small face. "It wasn't a dream, Aunt Sola."

"It wasn't?" Sola asked him, raising her eyebrows. "What was it then?"

Jadon's eyes shone brightly as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "It was my father," he told her. "My father was talking to me."

Sola could not conceal her surprise. She knew a little bit about the Force, and from Jadon's last name, it was fairly easy to deduce that he was the son of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the legendary Jedi Knight who had helped to liberate her planet back when her sister was serving as Queen. Obi-Wan, however, had been widely been believed to be dead for nearly five years, killed during the same purge which had wiped out most of the galaxy's Jedi. There were numerous rumors that he had met his end at the hands of Darth Vader himself, and from everything that Sola knew of the hero known as the Negotiator, it would have taken no less than the full might of a Sith Lord to bring him down. She had never heard of a dead Jedi being able to communicate with the living before, even through the Force. More than likely, Jadon had just experienced a very vivid and lifelike dream, no doubt brought on by the excitement of the previous day. Still, she did not want to upset the young boy when he seemed so happy - perhaps it was best to humor him.

"Your father?" she asked him carefully. "What did he tell you?"

Jadon smiled again, his face now positively glowing. "He said he loved me ... and that he's finally coming home. I get to see him really soon."

Sola's surprise jumped up yet another notch. Rationally, she was now convinced that it had been a dream - even if the dead could speak, they most certainly could not return from beyond the grave. Yet the certainty in the little boy's eyes was so intense that she would not have doubted it for all the world. Could it be that Obi-Wan actually was alive and was coming to them? If so, where had he been all these years? She was _definitely_ missing something here.

"Are you sure that's what you heard?" she pressed him gently, not wanting to challenge him but keen for answers now, for her own sake as much as Jadon's. "Could it have been something else? I mean ... you've never actually met your father have you?"

Jadon shook his head emphatically. "No, Aunt Sola, it was my father. I know it was. I _know_ it."

The confidence in Jadon's voice was unshakeable; amazingly, Sola found all her doubts quietly sliding away. She found herself leaning forward, almost eagerly. "How do you know, Jadon?"

Jadon shrugged his small shoulders. "Uncle Ani told me I should always trust my feelings. I just ... know."

An amazed smile rose to Sola's lips, and her heart swelled within her as she looked at the young boy before her, his childlike eagerness mixed with the certainty of someone much older, wiser, and more mature. She still did not understand quite what had happened, but she no longer had any doubt at all that it had. Obi-Wan Kenobi had spoken to his son. Whatever had transpired these past five years, wherever the great Jedi Master had really been, it no longer mattered. All that mattered was the smile on Jadon's face, knowing that his father was finally coming home.

"Well, then," she said matter-of-factly, standing up and offering Jadon her hand. "If you're going to see your father soon, than you'll need to keep up your strength. A good breakfast will help with that. You might want to get yourself downstairs, before Luke and Leia clean your plate for you."

Obediently, Jadon took her hand and slid down the side of the bed, yawning slightly and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. Steadily, if a bit slowly, he tottered across the bedroom and disappeared down through the door, towards the sounds of dishes clattering and eager laughter emanating from the main kitchen.

Sola remained behind for a long moment, staring contemplatively out of the open window, where the morning sun was now fully emerging from behind the hills. Her smile brightened as her thoughts lingered on the remarkable succession of events which fate had seen fit to deliver to them in quick succession. A tyrant brought to justice. A terrible war brought to a peaceful end. Two families reunited in one day. She had always dreamed that it could happen, but for many years had seen nothing that would give her cause to sustain that hope ... until now.

_Padmé used to say we had to believe that it would all work out in the end_, she thought to herself. _Maybe it's true after all. Maybe the ones who managed to hold on to their faith in the darkest of times ... they're the ones who have their faith rewarded._

Her smile widened. It seemed that her younger sister still had a thing or two to teach her as well. Shaking her head, she turned away from the window and left the children's bedroom, and made her way downstairs, where her family, a warm breakfast, and a bright new day were all waiting.


End file.
